The imperial summons came at dawn.
Zhou bowed low as he read it aloud. "His Majesty requests your presence in the Vermilion Hall. Formal audience."
Shen Lian folded the letter. "He's waited long enough to ask the question."
The Vermilion Hall was silent when she entered. No music, no courtiers.
Only the Emperor, seated upon the dais, eyes shadowed by thought.
"You've stirred the inner court," he said. "Without title, without favor, without asking."
"I have only walked where silence allowed," Shen Lian replied.
He studied her for a long moment.
"Do you wish for elevation?"
She bowed, but did not kneel.
"If Your Majesty grants it, I will accept."
"And if I grant you nothing?"
"Then I will remain, and continue to serve."
The Emperor chuckled, low.
"You are unlike the rest. Ambition without demand. Power without noise."
He stood.
"Would you take the title of Noble Consort?"
Shen Lian looked up.
"No, Your Majesty."
He raised a brow.
She met his gaze evenly.
"I am not yet old enough to wed. To grant me favor now would discredit both my merit and your judgment."
Silence fell.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
When she left the hall, no new title followed her.
But word spread quickly through the court:
The Emperor had offered. And she had refused.
Zhou asked, "Why decline what others would die for?"
Shen Lian smiled faintly.
"Because when I take a title, it will not be borrowed."
She turned toward the rising sun.
"It will be built."