They walked toward the resting pavilion in silence.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the rhythm of their footsteps against stone and the soft whisper of wind brushing through the bamboo leaves. The earlier liveliness inside the carriage had vanished, replaced by a strange, pressing quiet.
Bai Qian led at the very front, posture straight, movements precise.
Bai Zhi walked at the very back.
Usually, he would be the loudest one—complaining, joking, asking questions. But now he said nothing. His gaze remained lowered, thoughts tangled, heartbeat still faintly uneven from that brief exchange earlier.
After several turns through the garden paths, they stopped before a spacious pavilion.
They walked further inward and halted before a carved wooden garden door.
Bai Qian turned around. His expression had already returned to its usual professional calm.
"This is the resting pavilion for the gentlemen," he said evenly. "I will escort Lady Xu to another pavilion."
The pavilion was spacious—several bedchambers arranged neatly within, a small kitchen to the side, and beyond the open veranda lay a garden pond where koi fish glided beneath the water's surface. It was elegant but not ostentatious—refined in a way that reflected Yang Luoya himself.
"Thank you for guiding us," Wu Zhen said.
Jing Lei bowed slightly behind him in gratitude.
Only Bai Zhi stood awkwardly at the back, hands stiff at his sides.
"Please remember," Bai Qian added, "the ceremony will begin tonight. I trust you will all be present in the main hall before it starts."
They nodded.
"Lady Xu," Bai Qian said with perfect courtesy, extending his hand.
Xu Yanran accepted with dignified grace, and the two departed.
The remaining three entered the pavilion and sat inside.
Wu Zhen glanced sideways. "Why are you so quiet now, Bai Zhi?"
"Are you feeling unwell, Senior Bai?" Jing Lei asked gently.
Bai Zhi quickly shook his head. "No, no. I'm fine. Just a little tired."
Wu Zhen narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. "Then rest. We still have a few hours."
Bai Zhi nodded—but his mind was elsewhere.
Meanwhile, inside Yang Wei's chamber—
Servants surrounded him, adjusting layers of embroidered silk and fastening golden ornaments into place. His attire was far more formal and magnificent than usual. White and gold fabrics shimmered under candlelight, dragon motifs woven subtly along the sleeves.
He looked every bit the heir.
Yet his fingers fidgeted.
His thoughts drifted elsewhere.
He remembered the bruise on Yang Luoya's cheek.
His elder brother—always flawless, always composed—had walked out of their father's chamber with that mark. And he hadn't protested. Hadn't defended himself. As if it were routine.
Yang Wei lowered his gaze.
When I fell into the pond… Father slapped him too.
Back then, Yang Luoya had pushed him into the water. Father had struck him for endangering the younger prince's life.
"…Maybe he had a reason," Yang Wei murmured to himself. "Or maybe it was an accident."
The servant finally finished and bowed before leaving.
Yang Wei stared into the mirror.
He looked radiant. Powerful. Worthy.
Yet his smirk carried something more private.
"Why do you always try to look strong?" he muttered to his reflection. "You wouldn't have to… if you stood beside me. I would protect you."
For a fleeting moment, his imagination betrayed him—an image of Yang Luoya vulnerable, stripped of composure, eyes wet with tears.
Yang Wei's face burned red instantly.
"What are you thinking…?" he hissed under his breath, covering his face. "He's your brother. And he's an alpha."
Shame washed over him. He forced himself to breathe.
"I must not think like that."
Night fell.
The main hall glittered with golden light. Nobles filled every seat, murmuring politely as they awaited the ceremony.
As the central figure, Yang Wei entered last before the emperor.
The moment he stepped inside, every guest rose and bowed.
Yet something felt… incomplete.
Yang Luoya's seat was empty.
So was Bai Qian's.
Yang Wei's eyes searched instinctively—but found nothing.
He sat down quietly, convincing himself his brother would not attend.
"Senior Wu… where is Senior Yang Luo?" Jing Lei whispered.
"I don't know," Wu Zhen replied. "I haven't seen him since morning."
Outside the main hall—
"Young Master… are you certain?" Bai Qian asked softly from behind.
Yang Luoya stood before the grand doors, gaze steady.
"Yes."
He removed his outer robe and handed it to Bai Qian.
Without the long outer layer, the back of his attire revealed something unmistakable—
At his lower waist, just above the curve of his hip, bloomed a black rose.
Not embroidered.
Not painted.
It was etched into his skin.
Dark as ink. Beautiful as sin.
His ponytail no longer concealed it.
He inhaled deeply.
Then pushed the doors open.
The hall fell silent.
Those who had expected Yang Soren froze instead.
Yang Luoya stepped inside calmly, Bai Qian following behind.
All eyes landed on the black rose marking.
Some guests rose halfway from their seats in shock.
Wu Zhen's wine glass slipped, spilling red across the floor.
Yang Wei stared.
Yang Luoya walked forward without hesitation, posture proud, expression unreadable.
He sat.
Bai Qian stood behind him.
Wu Zhen leaned closer. "You never told me you were an omega."
Yang Luoya's gaze remained forward. "I never said I wasn't."
Murmurs erupted.
"That mark—"
But before anyone could continue—
The doors opened again.
Yang Soren entered.
Everyone stood and bowed.
The emperor's gaze flicked briefly toward Yang Luoya—sharp, assessing—before he continued to his throne.
The ceremony proceeded as planned.
Yet the atmosphere had shifted irreversibly.
Yang Wei struggled to focus. Again and again, his eyes drifted toward Yang Luoya—who sat composed, sipping wine as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
After the formal rites concluded, the hall shifted into informal conversation.
"Young Master," Bai Qian whispered, "I must prepare the guest resting chambers."
"Go."
Bai Qian hesitated. He feared certain nobles might approach Yang Luoya with improper intentions now that his secondary gender was exposed.
But under Wu Zhen's subtle release of killing intent, those nobles wisely retreated.
"I… I need some air," Bai Zhi muttered suddenly, standing up.
He exited the hall.
Outside, he saw Bai Qian walking away under the moonlight.
"Wait."
Bai Qian stopped—but did not turn.
"What do you want?"
The night was quiet. Only wind moved between them.
Bai Zhi swallowed.
"Father… he's still looking for you. Come back."
Silence.
"…I told you before," Bai Qian said coldly. "I will not return. I refuse to live among people who see their own family as clan assets."
He resumed walking.
Bai Zhi clenched his fists.
Before Bai Qian could disappear into shadow—
"Please reconsider…"
His voice cracked slightly.
"…Uncle."
The wind stilled. but Bai Qian didnt stop nor looking back at Bai Zhi.