Chapter Text
“I must suggest that Prince Shaoyou should take a diplomatic trip,” the queen said, and Shaoyou paused mid-bite, giving her a sharp glance.
His father continued eating, seemingly uninterested, while his stepsister gave him sly smile. Shaoyou gritted his teeth. Of course.
The queen wanted him gone, and she had been planting these ideas for weeks, always suggesting some excuse to keep him out of sight.
“A diplomatic trip?” his father repeated, lowering his spoon. The queen inclined her head.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said smoothly. “It is only prudent to strengthen our ties with the neighboring capitals. Prince Shaoyou’s presence would demonstrate the South’s commitment to peace and diplomacy.”
His father frowned. “Why now? My son has never shown any interest in diplomacy, and I do not think he possesses the patience for such matters,” he said, glancing at Shaoyou.
Shaoyou’s grip tightened around his spoon, the clatter against the plate making him flinch slightly.
“But Your Majesty,” the queen continued, leaning forward, her voice soft yet persuasive.
“It would be wise to cultivate his experience. A short journey, merely to observe and represent the South. Nothing demanding, of course. It is for his growth as a prince and the benefit of the kingdom.”
Shaoyou blinked at her, caught between suspicion and disbelief. He could see through her words.
Every word was designed to send him away. He wanted to protest, but his father, ever distracted by his meal, gave only a faint nod, trusting the queen’s judgment. Shaoyou knew then that arguing would achieve nothing.
“Yes, I suppose it is necessary,” his father said at last, finally setting down his spoon. Shaoyou’s stepsister giggled quietly with a triumphant look.
Shaoyou exhaled slowly, forcing a polite smile, though the fire in his chest was anything but calm.
The queen’s plan was working exactly as she intended, and there was nothing he could do but prepare for a journey he did not want to take.
“Where do you plan to send him for a diplomatic trip?” the king asked again, his brow slightly furrowed as he set down his cup.
“Only in the provinces of the South, Your Majesty,” the queen replied with a polite tilt of her head.
Her voice was smooth, almost serene, but Shaoyou’s sharp eyes caught the lie immediately.
She knew very well the provinces of the South were tame enough for a prince to survive. He would not be in danger there.
Shaoyou gritted his teeth. She was clever. Too clever The queen had other plans. He knew it.
He glanced at his stepsister, who were sitting stiffly, pretending to sip her tea, though her eyes were bright with amusement. She was complicit, enjoying every moment of this.
“And how long will this trip take?” the king asked, still distracted by his meal but clearly wanting to appear attentive.
“A fortnight, at most, Your Majesty,” the queen said smoothly. “A brief passage through the neighboring lands to strengthen relations. Nothing more. He will be well cared for, and it will be an honorable representation of our family.”
Shaoyou opened his mouth to argue, to point out that this “honorable representation” was just a polite way of removing him from the palace, but his father barely looked at him, and the queen’s smile was sharp enough to silence the room.
Shaoyou clenched his fists under the table, the nails digging into his palms.
“Two weeks,” the king murmured finally, seemingly satisfied. “Very well. Prepare him for the journey.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the queen said, curtsying slightly, though her eyes glinted with triumph.
Shaoyou felt it as if the room itself was pressing down on him, every gaze heavy with satisfaction that he had no choice.
Once the afternoon meal ended, Shaoyou stalked through the long corridors of the palace, his steps echoing off the marble floors.
He muttered under his breath, “Diplomatic trip, my foot. She’s planning something worse. I can feel it.”
A servant appeared, holding a small travel chest. “Prince Shaoyou, your provisions for the journey,” he said respectfully.
Shaoyou snatched it from the servant’s hands, not bothering to respond.
“Pack light,” he said to himself. “And pray I survive the ‘diplomacy’ they’ve cooked up for me.”
Sheng Shaoyou was the legitimate child of the King of the South, yet even before he was born, the king had married a favored concubine who bore him a daughter.
That daughter, now Shaoyou’s stepsister, carried the queen’s bloodline with all the elegance and sly cunning that came with it.
Shaoyou had never felt welcome around her. Every glance she threw his way reminded him that in this palace, he was already being edged out.
He strode to his chambers, chest tight, muttering under his breath. “A diplomatic trip, they say. They mean exile.” His voice echoed through the empty hall, bouncing off the high ceilings.
The tapestries lining the walls, depicting generations of kings and battles, did little to comfort him.
A knock at the door startled him. “Enter,” he barked, irritated.
The chambermaid stepped in, holding a folded travel robe and a small leather satchel.
“Your Highness, the Queen requested that these be prepared for your journey.”
Shaoyou snatched the items. “I suppose the Queen also requests I don’t come back,” he muttered, letting the robe drop onto the bed.
He yanked open the satchel. Inside were neatly packed linens, dried meats, and a bundle of scrolls.
Shaoyou had been nothing but an obedient son and a dutiful prince for the court, yet it seemed the queen or his stepmother had been itching to remove him from sight, clearing the way for her daughter to take his place.
Shaoyou sighed and dismissed the servant with a wave of his hand, letting the figure scurry out of the room.
He lay back on his mattress, the soft fabric pressing against him, a comfort he knew he would miss once he left.
His tongue poked at the side of his cheek as he muttered under his breath, “Curse you, evil stepmother.”
He rolled onto his side, staring at the carved wooden beams above, tracing their patterns with tired eyes.
The palace felt too quiet, too empty without the bustle of court business and servants bustling for attention.
Even the tapestries seemed to mock him with the battles and victories of kings long dead, reminding him that he was now just another pawn in someone else’s game.
He gritted his teeth and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“A fortnight,” he muttered, “Two weeks to be shipped off like a crate of wine.”
Shaoyou rose and began pacing, rubbing at his temples. “At least I’ll be out of the palace… but where exactly? She wants me gone entirely.”
He glanced at the satchel and travel robe lying on the bed. He tugged the robe over his shoulders, feeling the coarse fabric against his skin.
The satchel was light, filled with carefully packed supplies, scrolls, dried meats, linens.
“What is it you think you’re hiding from me, stepmother?” he muttered to the empty room, as if the shadows themselves could answer. “Where are you sending me? If only the king knew…”
He shook his head, annoyed at himself for thinking his father might intervene.
The king had never been one to notice subtleties or court intrigue unless it directly affected him. Shaoyou was on his own.
Grabbing one of the scrolls, he unrolled it and studied the neat calligraphy of maps and trade routes.
The lands marked here were familiar, safe, routine. Nothing hinted at danger. He frowned, folding the scroll back carefully.
“She wouldn’t send me somewhere mundane. Too easy.”
Shaoyou stepped to the window and looked out over the palace gardens, where the fountains sparkled under the afternoon sun.
Birds chirped, unaware of the schemes unfolding within the palace walls. He pressed his palm against the cool glass.
“You may think you’ve outsmarted me,” he muttered, voice low, “but I am not so easily forgotten.”
The room grew dimmer as the afternoon light waned. Shaoyou picked up the travel chest the servant had brought earlier and began packing what little he would need.
“If the king isn’t just a greedy son of a—” Shaoyou paused, scowling at the ceiling, then let out a long, frustrated sigh.
He knew better than to curse his father too loudly, but sometimes honesty demanded expression, even if it earned him a lecture later. “—of a fool, then why does he listen to her every word? Every. Single. Word.”
Shaoyou grew up bold, unafraid to speak his mind. Every thought that crossed his head seemed to demand an audience, whether the court wanted it or not.
Straightforward to a fault, he often clashed with advisors and attendants, and his complaints could ignite small storms within the palace.
He did not care for subtlety or etiquette. Honesty, blunt as a sword, was his principle.
It had earned him reprimands more than once, yet he never learned to hide his words.
Even as a child, he had questioned ministers in council, interrupted scholars reading histories aloud, and scolded servants who faltered in their duties.
His voice, sharp and insistent, carried across hallways and corridors, leaving no doubt about his presence or opinion.
He had been raised with privilege, yes, but also with a sense that speaking truth even at his own peril was necessary.
The palace often found him exhausting, insufferable, and impossible to manage, but there had never been anyone like him who could stir the air with a single remark.
At the same time, Shaoyou’s boldness came with a restlessness.
He could not sit still when silence pressed too heavily around him. He despised waiting without purpose, and the palace, with its endless rules and carefully curated ceremonies, was suffocating.
A life confined to formalities, to polite gestures and staged smiles, felt like a cage he was born to resist.
He wanted to move, to see, to question, to speak and occasionally to complain, loudly and without apology.
The servants had learned long ago not to take his outbursts personally.
Nobles and ministers, however, rarely forgave his bluntness, and whispers followed him everywhere: “Too proud, too rash, too bold.”
Shaoyou did not care for whispers. He valued only truth, even if that truth earned him enemies. If a gesture or command seemed foolish, he said so.
If a plan was tedious, he declared it plainly. And when he was crossed or slighted, his complaints would echo through the halls like a herald of defiance.
Yet there was another side that few noticed.
Shaoyou’s boldness was paired with a keen mind, a sharp curiosity for the world beyond the palace walls.
Maps, scrolls, and ancient texts fascinated him. He devoured stories of far lands, legends of old rulers, and accounts of mythical beasts.
He asked questions relentlessly, even when the answers unsettled the adults around him.
It was this same curiosity, this need to experience and witness everything firsthand, that had gotten him into trouble more than once.