Liang Capital – Early Spring
The air had begun to soften.
Peach blossoms fluttered across the stone paths of the palace courtyard. Servants swept them away before they touched the throne steps.
Lin Ruoyi walked with purpose. Dressed in dark robes with silver lining—formal, controlled. Her hair braided high.
The scroll came just before she reached the chamber. Delivered by the head eunuch, sealed with the golden crest of Yan.
She opened it on the spot. Read it once. Folded it closed.
No reaction.
She had expected it.
But her fingers tightened slightly around the parchment.
Inside the hall, the court was already loud.
"The Third Prince himself?"
"Yan is mocking us—"
"They say he brings death—"
"He brings status," said the Fourth Prince, seated among the administrative ministers. His voice was smooth, louder than the rest. "The emperor of Yan is not sending a pawn. He's sending a prince."
Ruoyi walked to her seat behind the military line without pausing.
The Emperor of Liang tapped the armrest once. Silence fell.
"General Lin," he said. "You've met this prince. What's your impression?"
Ruoyi stepped forward. Her tone was cool as ever.
"He speaks less than he observes. He doesn't waste words. He watches reactions."
"You think he's dangerous?"
"I think he's deliberate."
The Emperor nodded. "They will arrive in five days. There will be no troops at the gate. Only honor guard, full court protocol."
He looked directly at her.
"You will lead the receiving party."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Outside, Ruochen caught up with her near the training pavilion.
"You're taking this well."
"I'm not taking it at all," she said.
"Irritating prince, wasn't that your description?"
"He still is."
"Yet you changed your robe three times this morning."
She shot him a glare. He smiled like it was worth the risk.
That night, her sleep was thin.
She sat at her desk with an untouched cup of tea, reading the envoy list over and over.
Every time she read Yan Xuan, her thoughts slipped somewhere else.
To a cold room,
A warm voice,
His fingers pressing to her shoulder,
And the words:
"Maybe I'm in love. Maybe it would bring peace."
She hadn't believed him.
But part of her had wanted to.
She hated that part the most.
She stood.
Walked to her mirror.
Stared at her reflection.
And without thinking, undid her braid.
Yan Palace – Three Days to Departure
The stables smelled of new leather and frost. Horses stomped restlessly, the morning sharp and clear.
Yan Xuan checked saddle straps without speaking. His coat was black, his sleeves rolled to the forearms.
His scar—visible now—ran across his neck like something once burned there with purpose.
Si Yue leaned against the stable door, swirling a silver flask.
"They're probably rehearsing your entrance already. You know how Liang loves drama."
"No one's interested in my entrance."
Si Yue snorted. "That's where you're wrong. You might just be their whole show."
They returned to the inner study by mid-afternoon.
Maps laid out.
Letters stacked for signing.
Emissary gifts listed and boxed.
"We'll be watched," Si Yue said.
"Good," Yan Xuan replied.
"You planning to smile?"
"No."
"Flirt?"
"No."
"Lie?"
"…Only if needed."
That night, Si Yue caught him still at the map table.
"You're restless," he said. "Since when do you review protocols yourself?"
Yan Xuan didn't answer.
Later, alone, he stood on the balcony.
The wind had changed. No more snow, just sharp air that felt impatient.
He looked over the wall. Toward Liang. Not in distance—but in memory.
She had touched nothing soft in him.
But something inside him wasn't hard anymore either.
Behind him, Si Yue's voice rose like a warning:
"Don't fall for her."
Yan Xuan didn't turn.
"I already did."