Vivian
Vivian Li had always been a good observer.
It was the first skill her mother had taught her—long before swordplay, long before negotiation, long before the art of seduction or double-speak. She learned to watch and even more importantly, to listen.
"Listen longer than they think you are," Lady Meixian had once said. "And you'll know them better than they know themselves."
So she watched and listened. From the shadowed gallery above the inner courtyard, where incense burned low and paper lanterns glowed with the softened promise of morning.
Below, Ethan Zhou moved through his sword forms. No flash. No aura flaring off his blade. No elemental flourish or chi bloom. Just breath, steel, and unshakable control.
Thrust. Parry. Head strike. Slash. Repose. Basic movements. Solid footwork.
He was precise in a way that was maddening. Centered in a way that annoyed her. She'd seen him take Qinglan's Silence without hesitation. Watched him fold it into his grip like it had been waiting for him.
He never boasted about it. He trained alone every morning—early enough that he thought no one noticed.
But the truth was, everyone noticed -- Her father. Her mother. Her brothers. Their retainers.
They all saw the quiet Zhou son-in-law rise with the sun, train until breath became discipline, then wash, dress, and vanish into whatever studies consumed him.
What did he study? She had no idea.
Vivian hadn't spoken to him in almost two weeks. He hadn't sought her out either—which was slowly driving her mad.
The empire still whispered about him.
Quietly.
Like a story no one wanted to admit they believed.
"He moved like someone unafraid to be seen failing."
"The sword didn't reject him."
"He knelt—and still won."
He hadn't gone drinking with her brothers. Hadn't shown his face at the dueling pits. Hadn't indulged in the world-class brothels of Moonlight City. Hadn't tried to prove anything.
He was, in all measurable ways, irrelevant.
And yet—
No one said his name lightly. No one ignored him when he spoke.
Vivian stepped back from the railing and returned to her chamber. The tea was cold. The scrolls untouched. She couldn't focus.
Not lately.
She still saw Jin Xun. (who had been beaten by her family but was recovering.)
They still talked—about politics, sect disputes, unfinished poetry. He was still handsome. Still charming. Just last week he'd brought her a charm bracelet. She'd smiled, thanked him. It probably cost him a month's salary.
She hadn't worn it. She couldn't bring herself to.
Because if she wore it, her husband might see.
And that was a complication she didn't feel like explaining.
Two years ago, when she and Jin reconnected, her heart had stuttered when he looked at her.
That had surprised her.
Now?
Now it still fluttered just…not as much.
He still called her Vi, still looked at her like she was the only fixed point in a spinning world.
But lately, it felt like he was waiting for a version of her that no longer existed.
And worse—something she wouldn't admit aloud—she didn't miss him as much when he left.
Not like she thought she would.
It was almost ironic. She had told her husband, her blood bond, that he was banned, banned from her bed, her heart, and her proximity.
And now the one she supposedly banned him for was slowly losing space in her heart.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.
The knock was polite. Two soft taps against the lacquered wood of her study door.
Vivian didn't look up. "Yes?"
The door opened. Ethan Zhou stepped in with his usual quiet grace. Robes crisp. Hair damp. He looked recently bathed, refreshed.
Composed and handsome.
The bastard. How dare he come to her room looking so composed. And handsome.
Damnit.
He gave her a polite nod. Not a bow. Not awkward.
He looked… finished. Like this wasn't a conversation. Just a scheduled line item.
"I'll be leaving for a few days," he said. "The traditional return to the bridegroom's household."
His grin twitched wider. "Though I suppose this time, it's the return to the groom's parents."
Vivian blinked once. "Your parents."
He nodded.
"My mother's expecting me. It's customary. You might not know this, but it's usually the wife who returns to her birth home after the wedding. She brings gifts. Apologies. Grovels. That sort of thing."
She set her scroll down, deliberate and careful.
"Yes, I'm familiar with the custom."
She was. She'd watched her brothers do it. The lot of them. They'd made fun of the tradition—but followed it anyway.
Her eyes met his.
"You'll be bringing gifts for my in-laws."
"Yes," Ethan said. "They were already arranged. I selected them ahead of time—nothing exclusive, but enough to satisfy protocol. Modest. Respectable. My mother and sisters will love them."
Vivian raised a brow.
"I won't embarrass the house," he added softly.
Of course you won't. You would never do anything inappropriate.
She didn't say it.
"I know you're busy," he said. "I don't expect you to come with me."
Her spine straightened.
"You don't expect me to come."
He shook his head. "Traditionally, the husband—or in this case, the wife—might attend. But it's not required. Especially in noble pairings like ours. I thought it best not to impose."
Her jaw tightened.
"I see."
"My mother will be disappointed not to meet you," he added. "But she understands the nature of our marriage."
Vivian looked at him fully then.
He wasn't provoking her—which just irritated her more.
She had barely seen him this month. She had expected that. Wanted it, even.
But now—he stood here, telling her he would represent the Li family, that he'd already arranged the gifts, prepared the apologies, excused her absence—
And never once asked her to come.
He didn't even consider asking. As if she weren't part of the arrangement. As if he didn't need her to be.
"That's all, then?" she said, voice like polished ice.
He nodded. "I'll be gone no more than three days. Likely after you leave for your White Lotus Sect retreat. I'll probably be in the city after that, working on my lab."
She said nothing. She studied him. And the more she looked, the less she understood.
He was going home—after a month in her household. Wearing her name.
And he sat there with that contented look on his face.
Vivian blinked.
It hadn't even occurred to her. Not once. What it must feel like to be the groom and still play the bride. Returning home with gifts, tribute, apologies.
As though he had been traded away. She might have expected a man to resent that. Be humiliated by it. But Ethan seemed faintly amused.
"Are you embarrassed?" she asked suddenly.
That earned a flicker of surprise. He snorted. "Embarrassed?"
She nodded. "To return with gifts like a married daughter. Wearing my name. Living in my house."
Ethan tilted his head, a wry glint in his eyes. "No, I knew what I was marrying into."
She studied him.
And for the first time, she couldn't decide whether that made her respect him more—
Or feel something dangerously close to guilt.
"That's all, then?" she said coolly.
He winked.
"Don't miss me too much."
She paused. The wink threw her off so much she had to stifle a laugh.
Something almost like a smile touched her lips.
He turned to go.
Then paused at the door.
"Traditions are strange things," he said. "Especially the ones that ask you to bow for something you never asked to be given."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Vivian sat perfectly still.
***
Vivian hadn't moved since the door shut.
She remained at her desk, spine straight, gaze fixed on the closed doorway as if Ethan might return—as if she might call him back.
She didn't. She wouldn't.
Her tea had gone cold. Again.
She reached for it anyway, sipping as if nothing was wrong. As if something hadn't shifted.
Then came the second knock. Light. Rhythmic.
Mei.
Vivian didn't look up. "Come in."
Mei entered with a satisfied little smirk and a scroll tube cradled in both hands like a gift she was far too proud of.
"Well," she said brightly. "Now that your husband has abandoned you, shall we review the material?"
Vivian gave her a look. "He didn't abandon me."
"Right...." Mei dropped the scroll onto the table. "Let's call it a tactful exit, then."
Vivian unrolled the scroll. "I didn't ask for a background check."
"You didn't stop me either."
She glared, but picked up the scroll, which was densely written, annotated in Mei's tiny script.
Investigation: Ethan Zhou of the House of Zhou.
Vivian read the first lines and paused.
"Imperial Academy?"
"Yes. As you know, the Imperial Academy is one of the top three in the Empire," Mei said, already pouring a second cup of tea for herself. "Graduated early. Honors in Alchemical Theory, Applied Cultivation Science, and Arcane Infrastructure. Triple major. He won two independent research grants. One of them was shut down for pushing into bloodline stability testing without oversight."
Vivian's brow arched. "Impossible. Is that even allowed?"
"Oh, it gets better," Mei said, sipping. "He was shortlisted for a personal apprenticeship under the Imperial Registry, but withdrew before it finalized. No one knows why. They say he has eidetic memory."
Vivian looked up. "So he's… brilliant. What is eidetic memory?"
"Scary brilliant. It means he remembers everything he sees, reads, or hears with perfect recall."
She scanned down the page.
Medical alchemy. Core resonance theory. Artifact calibration.
The kind of projects nobles begged their heirs to be part of.
And yet here Ethan was—married into her family, training alone at dawn, and quietly disappearing into studies no one asked about.
"Was he a research specialist or a combat developer?"
"Research," Mei said. "Mostly. But he was also part of the Imperial Experimental Combat group for two terms. His goal was to try to codify combat learning."
Vivian's mind flashed to the match with Nathan. The way Ethan had moved. Not strong, but... fluid.
Too fluid for a pure scholar.
She kept reading.
Then she found it.
A name buried in the "Social Ties" section.
Claire Wang.
Mei raised her eyebrows. "Ah. There we are."
Vivian's fingers tensed.
"He was involved with her. I knew that."
Mei continued without looking up. "Long-term. Started in their pre-Academy days. But really began courting in university. No formal engagement, but apparently she visited his dorm more often than she visited her lectures."
Vivian didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until the words were out.
"Why would you look into that?"
Mei blinked. "I look into everything. I know you wanted me to, and you'd be pissy until I did. But you were never going to ask."
Vivian scowled. "It's irrelevant."
"Of course it is," Mei said sweetly. "But if I had to share a name with someone, I'd want to know who used to whisper it."
Vivian rolled the scroll back with too much force.
The room went quiet for a moment.
She turned away from the desk, stared out the window.
He was gone now—headed toward a home she'd never seen. A mother she hadn't met. A life she'd made no attempt to understand.
She had told herself she didn't need to.
That the marriage was functional. Political. Clean.
She was Vivian Li. She commanded relationships.
She didn't ask for them.
Mei cleared her throat behind her. "There's one more thing."
Vivian didn't turn. "Let's hear it."
"Well," Mei said slowly, "apparently the Zhou family has neighbors. A Minor noble class couple. Hardworking. Not terribly influential."
"And?"
"Their daughter. Marrisa Lin. Eighteen. Bright. Apparently she's very taken with your husband."
Vivian turned.
Mei tried—and failed—not to grin.
"She's been… vocal. Claims she's going to marry him someday. She wants—uh—all the babies. Her parents are planning to visit while Ethan's home. You know. Coincidentally."
Vivian said nothing.
But the cold inside her shifted.
"Are you suggesting I should be jealous?" she asked finally.
"Of a child?" Mei said, waving a hand—ironically ignoring that Vivian was only twenty herself. "No. But the appearance of inattention can be damaging. You are, after all, the heir to House Li."
Vivian's face smoothed over. "Yes. I am."
"And leaving your husband unaccompanied on his return visit—while rumors swirl and neighbors bring their daughters—might suggest…"
Mei trailed off.
Vivian didn't need it said.
She turned back to her desk.
Sat slowly.
Took a breath.
Then stood again.
"Tell the royal stylist I'll need to depart within two hours."
Mei blinked. "We're going?"
Vivian nodded."I won't have it said that the heir of House Li allowed her husband to be paraded around like an unattended servant."
Mei bowed low, eyes dancing. "Understood."
Vivian looked toward the road that led toward the outer gates.
He was probably halfway there by now.
Still calm. Still unreadable.
That was fine.
Let him be unreadable.
She'd remind the world exactly whose name he wore.