Taking Sides, Palace New Year’s Eve Dinner Tastes Bad

This was Prince Nathan of Southlyn's way of turning the tables—using the enemy's own tactics against them. Once, Princess Yara used rumors to attack Serena Feng; now, Nathan could just as easily use rumors to destroy Yara's reputation and her so-called purity.

Nathan’s move was clearly more skillful than Princess Yara’s. By keeping the rumors confined to the aristocratic circles, he ruined Yara’s reputation—but also ensured the wrath of Lyndaria would soon follow.

Su Rou was certainly useful—no wonder Nathan brought her into the palace.

Ninth Royal Uncle swept a glance at Nathan, their eyes meeting briefly before he naturally looked away. To the crowd, this made Nolan seem deep and inscrutable, as if he held vast secrets.

If Nolan knew what everyone was thinking, he’d probably just sneer. He wasn’t interested—what was so deep or mysterious about any of this, anyway?

Princess Yara had definitely learned her lesson today. No matter how Su Rou provoked her, no matter how ugly the words, she didn’t respond at all—as if Su Rou’s accusations had nothing to do with her. Not only that, Yara’s stiff face even softened a little, and she managed a strained smile.

Princess Yara wasn’t stupid; she knew that at a time like this, only a calm, unbothered attitude could ease everyone’s doubts and make them withdraw their scornful, judging gazes.

Unfortunately, her composure wasn’t quite convincing—the harder she tried to look calm, the more twisted it appeared. After all, what woman could bear having her premarital loss of chastity and secret pregnancy exposed to the world, pointed at by everyone? The fact that Yara didn’t flip the table and storm out was already impressive.

Life without a worthy opponent is boring. The longer Su Rou talked, the duller it got—but Nathan stubbornly kept silent, so she had to keep going until the eunuch finally shouted, "His Majesty arrives! Her Majesty arrives!" That saved Su Rou, and it saved Yara too.

Yara secretly pinched herself, rose with the crowd, and put on a dignified smile. She had to win the Emperor’s favor and seek the Eastlyn royal family’s support.

If Princess Yara could see herself in a mirror right now, she’d realize just how humble she looked…

Feng Manor was decked out with lanterns and festive decorations. Before dinner, Serena stepped outside to accept toasts from her servants. After downing a cup, she quickly slipped away—she didn’t want her presence making everyone too restrained to enjoy themselves.

Serena’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes and brows glowing with happiness. She went to a small table inside to share New Year’s Eve dinner with Prince Titus of Lyndaria. There were only two of them, but Serena didn’t feel lonely at all.

As Serena sat down, she asked, "Prince Titus, are you comfortable here?"

"This is the most peaceful New Year’s Eve dinner I’ve ever had," Prince Titus said, raising his cup and clinking it against Serena’s. He thought to himself that Ninth Royal Uncle would probably be jealous to death.

"As long as you’re happy, Prince Titus." Serena didn’t say more; she knew that in past years, Prince Titus was like Nolan—obligated to enter the palace and dine with the Emperor.

Serena couldn’t help but wonder, a little mischievously, if Nolan was enjoying his New Year’s banquet at the palace.

"This is honestly the happiest I’ve ever been—it finally feels like New Year’s Eve, like a real celebration." Prince Titus raised his cup and drained it in one go.

"Don’t drink too much, Prince Titus—it’s bad for your injury." Serena understood that he was happy, but no matter how good the mood, he couldn’t overdo it.

"You’re such a killjoy—it’s New Year’s! Can’t you just let me enjoy myself?" Titus grumbled, but obediently set down his cup. "Fine, fine, I won’t drink anymore. Let’s eat."

While Nolan waited in the palace with an empty stomach for the Emperor to arrive, Prince Titus and Serena were busy attacking the feast laid out before them…

The Emperor walked in, surveying the ministers kneeling on the ground and the foreign princes and princesses rising to salute him. His stern face broke into a satisfied smile, his eyes showing a hint of pride.

This was his country, his empire—wherever he went, all bowed before him. But the moment the Emperor spotted Nolan lounging lazily at his table, his sense of triumph shattered.

Dongling Nine, you really are my nemesis.

The Emperor shot Nolan a quick glance—probably only the two of them noticed, not even the Empress standing by his side.

The imperial couple entered together. The Emperor was dissatisfied with Nolan, but the Empress outright hated him. If not for Nolan, her son wouldn’t have fallen out of favor with the Emperor—and wouldn’t be barred from the New Year’s banquet.

If it weren’t for Nolan, the palace wouldn’t be in chaos, and the New Year’s banquet wouldn’t have nearly been ruined.

The Emperor could still hide his feelings, but the Empress made no effort at all—she shot Nolan a vicious glare before ascending the dais with the Emperor.

Nolan’s face was expressionless from start to finish. This was his privilege—a privilege granted by the late emperor. He’d done the same every year, and whether the Emperor and Empress liked it or not, they had to get used to it.

The imperial couple climbed the steps and turned to face the crowd, radiating authority and nobility. Any dissatisfaction with Nolan was already hidden away.

The Emperor spoke, telling everyone to rise and take their seats. Just as he was about to announce the start of the banquet, the Empress suddenly pointed at the empty seat across from Nolan: "Your Majesty, where is the Crown Prince?"

There was only one empty seat at the whole banquet, and it was in such a conspicuous spot—yet the Emperor had somehow failed to notice it. Clearly, the Crown Prince barely registered in his mind anymore.

The Empress’s question froze the atmosphere. Nolan’s eyes flashed with mockery—this year’s New Year’s Eve banquet was certainly entertaining.

"I’m right here. Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty the Empress." The Crown Prince arrived at that very moment, his voice loud and confident—so different from his usual gentle manner. Dressed in full regalia, he seemed less delicate and far more masculine than before.

On New Year’s Eve, the Emperor personally hosted the banquet—yet the Crown Prince dared to arrive even later than the Emperor himself. Worse, he didn’t even apologize. His nerve had grown, and the faction loyal to Prince Luo was itching to file a report against him after the holiday.

Princess Yara finally breathed a sigh of relief. The Crown Prince’s arrival shifted everyone’s attention—at last, they stopped staring at her.

The Crown Prince didn’t act like the center of attention at all. He strode calmly to the front of the hall, ignoring the Emperor’s dark expression, and bowed: "Your son is late. Please punish me, Father."

Punish him?

Not only were all the ministers present, but there were foreign guests too—how could the Emperor punish the Crown Prince here?

The Emperor was displeased, but could only pretend not to mind: "Take your seat."

"Thank you, Father." The Emperor hadn’t punished him, but hadn’t said he wouldn’t either—a clear sign he’d settle the score later. The Crown Prince knew this, but didn’t care. He sat down with a flourish, picked up his cup, and raised it toward Nolan.

The Crown Prince was simply expressing his thanks, but to those watching closely, it looked like he and Nolan were forming an alliance—ignoring the Emperor entirely.

The Crown Prince quickly realized this, but just smiled, tacitly accepting the impression. The Emperor said nothing, and the ministers grew increasingly uneasy.

What a mess this imperial family is!

The Emperor wasn’t even dead yet, and his sons were already fighting for the throne—the succession battle was now out in the open.

The ministers wiped their brows nervously. Those who’d already picked a side hurried to calculate their chances of winning; those who hadn’t wondered whether it was time to choose. If they kept hesitating, they’d be the first ones targeted. But which side should they join? If they chose wrong, their whole family could be doomed.

Such a dilemma…