She pivoted on her heel, her eyes locked onto the massive mahogany double doors at the far end of the banquet hall.

’If I can make it to the gardens, I can scale the outer wall. I can hide in a merchant’s cart. I can flee to the southern spice jungles and start a new life as a hermit who only cooks radishes,’ Ji’an strategized, her boots silently gripping the polished floor as she prepared to activate her Wind-Step technique.

She took exactly one explosive step forward.

She didn’t even make it a full yard.

A shadow fell over her, moving with a speed that fundamentally defied the laws of physics and heavy plate armor.

Before Ji’an could even register the shift in the air pressure, a large, heavily calloused, leather-gloved hand clamped down onto the thick, embroidered collar at the back of her white Inner Sect robes.

Ji’an let out a strangled, undignified "Ack!" as her forward momentum was effortlessly halted.

She was yanked backward. The physical disparity between them was astronomical.

Ji’an had the compressed mass of her Qi, capable of shattering boulders.

But Lin Feng was the Vanguard Commander of the Azure Empire. His cultivation base was a terrifying, unfathomable abyss.

Lin Feng didn’t stop her; it just seemed like he merely lifted his arm.

Ji’an’s boots actually left the floor.

She was dangling. The mighty, arrogant Head Chef of the Drunken Peak, the Martial Uncle who had kicked the carriage door off its hinges, was currently suspended in the air, being held entirely by the scruff of her neck like a misbehaving stray kitten.

"Where exactly do you think you are going, little bird?" Lin Feng’s voice vibrated right next to her ear, a low, rumbling hum of pure amusement.

"Put me down!" Ji’an hissed frantically, kicking her legs in the air, her face burning with renewed, absolute humiliation. She reached back, trying to pry his iron-grip fingers off her collar, but it was like trying to pry open a sealed bank vault with a toothpick. "Lin Feng, let me go! People are watching! This is an Imperial Banquet! I am an Elder of an orthodox sect!"

"You are my younger brother," Lin Feng corrected smoothly, completely unfazed by her thrashing. "And an elder brother must ensure his sibling does not wander off and get lost in the big, scary palace."

He didn’t put her down.

Instead, Lin Feng simply turned, carrying Ji’an by the scruff of her neck, and began walking toward the side exit of the banquet hall.

He moved with long, purposeful strides, entirely unbothered by the fact that he was carrying a fully grown teenager with one hand.

The entire banquet hall watched them go.

General Lin Tianzong buried his face in his hands, sighing heavily into his wine cup.

Xiao Yichen’s folding fan actually cracked under the pressure of his grip, the Second Prince’s eyes blazing with a toxic, furious jealousy as he watched another man claim his prize.

But it was the reaction of the noblewomen that truly cemented the destruction of Ji’an’s reputation.

As Lin Feng carried Ji’an past the lower tables, the fujoshi squad collectively lost their minds.

"He picked him up! He picked him up like a kitten!" a Marquess’s daughter squealed quietly, practically biting her silk handkerchief in half. "The physical dominance! The indulgence! The Martial Uncle is struggling but entirely unable to escape his brother’s grasp! It is the peak of the domineering general trope!"

"Look at the Commander’s eyes! So cold to the world, but burning with possessive warmth for his sibling!" another girl whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears of pure, shipping joy. "We are witnessing history! The tragic artist and the ruthless warlord!"

Ji’an stopped thrashing. She let her limbs go entirely limp, staring blankly at the vaulted, starry ceiling of the banquet hall as she was carried away.

’My reputation is dead,’ Ji’an mourned, her soul leaving her body. ’Master Jiu Zui is going to hear about this. Wangchen is going to hear about this. I am going to be immortalized in a series of highly inappropriate, self-published noblewoman novellas. I should have just let Blood-Hand Tu harvest my Yin.’

"Stop sulking," Lin Feng chuckled, his voice a low vibration against her back. "It ruins your fierce aesthetic."

"I hate you," Ji’an stated flatly to the ceiling.

"I know," Feng replied, entirely unbothered.

They passed through the heavy side doors, leaving the deafening noise, the glaring lights, and the terrifyingly perceptive noblewomen behind.

The Imperial Gardens at night were a stark, breathtaking contrast to the chaotic banquet hall.

The air was crisp and cool, carrying the sweet, heavy scent of blooming Night-Lotus and ancient pine.

The pathways were paved in smooth, pale jade, winding through meticulous arrangements of glowing spirit-flora and quiet, reflective koi ponds.

The moonlight filtered down through the canopy, casting long, silvery shadows across the manicured lawns.

It was serene and isolated. It was the perfect place for a secret rendezvous or a quiet assassination.

Lin Feng carried Ji’an deep into the gardens, far past the perimeter of the palace guards.

He navigated the winding paths with the casual familiarity of a man who had grown up wandering these grounds during his youth in the capital.

Finally, they reached a secluded, open-air pavilion situated in the center of a large, perfectly still lotus lake. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The pavilion was crafted from dark, polished spirit-wood, its sweeping roof decorated with silver bells that chimed faintly in the breeze. A simple, round stone table sat in the center, flanked by carved jade benches.

It was completely silent, save for the gentle lapping of the water against the wooden pillars.

Lin Feng stepped into the pavilion. He finally released his grip on Ji’an’s collar.

Ji’an dropped the remaining two inches to the floor, stumbling slightly before catching her balance.

She immediately scrambled backward, putting the round stone table between them.

She aggressively smoothed down her wrinkled white robes, glaring at her brother with all the fury a thoroughly humiliated chef could muster.