Chapter 151: Court Whispers
The banquet had ended, but its echoes clung to the palace walls like smoke.
Hei Long’s silent defiance, the way his women had stood beside him, the unwavering presence that seemed to bend the air itself — no one could forget it. Nobles whispered in side halls, half in awe, half in fear.
"So many women by his side... it’s obscene.""Obscene? It’s terrifying. Did you not see? They weren’t competing for him. They were united.""That unity is unnatural. Dangerous.""Or maybe it’s destiny."
In the shadows, rumors bred. In the light, eyes followed.
But in his quarters, far from the gilded hallways, Hei Long sat with his women — the storm outside reduced to background noise.
Living Together
The quarters were large, but not large enough to contain tension.
Mu Yexin sprawled across the silk cushions like a queen, chin in hand, smirking. "Did you hear them? The nobles choking on their own envy. Delicious."
Leng Qingxue poured herself tea, movements precise, elegant, sharp. "Their envy doesn’t matter. Their fear does. Fear makes people act... rashly."
Zhao Yuran set a tray down, her hands graceful but her eyes distant. "And fear makes them whisper. And whispers, eventually, become daggers."
Zhu tilted her head, hugging her knees on the rug. "Daggers break if you grab them with your bare hands." She grinned, looking at Hei Long. "Right, Master?"
Hei Long said nothing. He only poured tea for Qingxue before pouring for Yuran, then Yexin, then Zhu. A simple gesture — but each woman noticed the order, the touch, the weight of his gaze as he passed the cups.
The air thickened.
Yexin arched a brow. "Hmph. Always the gentleman. Careful, Master, someone might think you’re playing favorites."
Qingxue’s eyes flicked, sharp as frost. "He doesn’t play. He commands."
Yuran’s lips curved faintly. "And we obey."
Zhu giggled, leaning into his side. "I don’t obey. I just like him."
Hei Long only drank his tea.
Rivalries in Shadows
Later, when the night stretched thin, the rivalries bloomed.
Yuran lingered, brushing invisible dust from Hei Long’s sleeve. Her hand stayed there too long, her breath a whisper. "Rest. You’ve carried enough today."
Yexin leaned against his other shoulder, smirking. "Rest? After a day like that? He should be celebrated. Don’t you agree?" Her fingers traced his collar lazily.
Qingxue’s eyes burned from across the room. "You cheapen him with games." She rose, walked forward, and set her hand firmly on his chest. "He doesn’t need playthings. He needs steel."
Zhu blinked at them all, then with childish boldness, curled into Hei Long’s lap like she owned the spot. "He needs me."
The air cracked with unspoken words.
Hei Long didn’t push any of them away. He let them clash, let the edges of rivalry scrape against each other like blades. And in his silence, in his presence, he tethered them without binding them.
It was maddening.
And intoxicating.
Moonlit Balcony
Later still, when the others drifted — not to sleep, but to restless silence — Hei Long stepped onto the balcony.
The city glowed below, lanterns flickering like fireflies. The moon was cold and full.
One by one, they joined him.
Yuran first, silent as water.Then Yexin, laughter subdued for once.Then Qingxue, her hair gleaming like ice.Finally Zhu, barefoot and yawning, tugging his sleeve.
No one spoke at first. The quiet was heavy, fragile.
Then Qingxue broke it."If the world calls us his, let it be true. I won’t yield."
Yuran’s eyes narrowed. "Nor will I."
Yexin smirked, curling close to Hei Long’s arm. "Good. Let’s see who he chooses first."
Zhu pouted, hugging his waist. "He doesn’t have to choose. He’s already ours."
Hei Long looked at them — four women, four forces, bound by rivalry, loyalty, desire. His silence was heavier than words.
And in that silence, they understood.
He would never choose just one.
Midnight Confessions
Time stretched. The moon slid lower. The city fell asleep.
But none of them moved.
Finally, Yuran whispered, almost too soft to hear. "I hated you, once. For being like this. For holding us all without ever reaching for us. But now... I wonder if it’s the only way. If you had chosen one of us, the others would have burned."
Qingxue’s jaw tightened. "Better to burn than to wither."
Yexin laughed, low and wicked. "I don’t mind burning. I like the heat."
Zhu tilted her head, voice honest as a child’s. "I don’t care if it burns. I just don’t want him to leave."
Hei Long finally moved. His hand — one hand — brushed Yuran’s cheek, then slid to rest on Qingxue’s shoulder, then tangled briefly in Yexin’s hair, then cupped Zhu’s head.
One gesture. Four bonds.
They all froze.
And in that single moment, the war between them softened — not vanished, never vanished — but softened.
Because they understood.
They weren’t rivals. Not really.
They were pieces.
Pieces of him.
Whispered Promises
When dawn finally bled across the horizon, none of them had slept.
Yuran’s head rested lightly against Hei Long’s shoulder.Yexin’s hand was still on his chest, stubbornly.Qingxue stood, but closer than before, almost at his side.Zhu clung to him as though he were her anchor.
And Hei Long?
Hei Long looked at the rising sun with eyes that gave nothing away.
But in the hush of dawn, the women swore silent vows — not to each other, not even to him.
But to themselves.
That no matter how blurred the lines grew, no matter how much it burned, they would not let go.
. . . .
The palace gardens had not yet woken. Dew clung to every leaf, silvered by the soft weight of moonlight, and the air held that fragile stillness that comes only before the sun crests the horizon.
Hei Long stood at the edge of the lotus pond, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His reflection wavered in the water, stretched thin by the faint ripple of koi beneath the surface. He looked as though he might dissolve into the ripples at any moment, yet his presence was heavier than stone.
Behind him, footsteps hesitated. Light, cautious — the kind that belonged to someone who had not yet decided whether to approach.
"...You’re awake early, I see."
It was Leng Qingxue.
Her robes trailed faintly across the grass, her hair drawn into a simple knot that made her look almost vulnerable, though the steel in her eyes was unchanged. She did not come closer than a few steps, as if testing how near she was allowed.
Hei Long did not turn. "Sleep is wasted when the air is clear."
Her lips pressed thin. "You speak as though even rest is weakness."
At last, he glanced back, and she faltered beneath that single look.
"Do you disagree?"
The words hung between them. She opened her mouth, closed it, then came forward until she was standing beside him. Their reflections stood together in the water now — her pale, untouchable, and his... unreadable.
"I disagree with one thing," she murmured finally. "That you must always bear the weight alone."
Her hand lifted, almost on instinct, brushing against his sleeve. He did not pull away.
The world seemed to stop at that small contact. For Qingxue, it was more terrifying than a duel with a thousand blades.
"...Hei Long."
She whispered his name, and before she could think better of it, her lips brushed his cheek. Just the corner — fleeting, trembling — but it was enough to set her heart ablaze.
The sound of breath caught behind them.
"Qingxue..."
It was Zhao Yuran. Her eyes, wide with something raw and breaking, locked onto the scene. She stood frozen in the archway of the pavilion, moonlight framing her like a painting of betrayal.
Qingxue’s face flushed, but her chin lifted, defiant. "I don’t regret it."
The air thickened.
Yuran’s fists trembled at her sides. "Then you’ve declared war."
Mu Yexin’s laughter spilled from the shadows. She had been there all along, lounging on the railing of the bridge, watching with cruel amusement.
"How delicious," she purred. "Even dawn can’t rise without burning someone first."
The tension cracked like glass.
Yuran stepped forward, voice shaking. "Hei Long... is he truly yours to claim?"
Qingxue’s gaze burned cold. "If he isn’t, then prove it."
The night air quivered with jealousy, with yearning, with something none of them dared name. And Hei Long — standing between them, silent, steady — let the storm rage. He did not soothe it. He did not stop it.
Because storms revealed truth.
And truth was his to command.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but it cut through them all.
"Enough."
The single word made Yuran halt, made Qingxue’s hand fall back to her side, made Yexin’s laughter dissolve into silence.
Hei Long turned, his gaze moving from one woman to the next, lingering just long enough to brand them each with meaning.
"You fight over shadows."
He stepped forward, past them, leaving the garden heavy with unshed words.
"But shadows always belong to me."