The moon hung high above, silver and solemn, casting a soft, ethereal light across the darkened sky. Its glow poured through the tall glass windows of the ballroom, giving life to the shadows and cloaking the ornate marble floors in a delicate sheen.

Within, the air was steeped in elegance. The gentle notes of classical music wove through the room like silk, filling the space with an air of grace and intimacy. Violins whispered tender melodies, cellos echoed their warmth, and a grand piano offered quiet strength to every rising harmony.

Couples danced beneath crystal chandeliers, their steps slow and synchronized, as if time itself had agreed to pause for their moment. Laughter was hushed, smiles soft. It was a scene carved from the dreams of poets.

And yet, apart from it all—on a quiet balcony that overlooked the grandeur—stood Chu Zihang.

The night wind played with a few stray strands of his dark hair, though the rest was immaculately styled. His golden eyes gleamed like twin stars, quietly watching the world below with a gaze that was distant, thoughtful... almost searching. In one hand, gloved in midnight black, he held a half-full glass of deep red wine, untouched since he arrived.

He wore a tailored royal suit, black with intricate gold embroidery that shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight. The high collar, the sharp shoulders, the refined elegance—it made him look like a prince written into the pages of a long-lost fairy tale. Regal, composed… untouchable.

Yet there was something fragile behind his gaze.

Every so often, his eyes shifted subtly toward the ballroom’s entrance. Not hurriedly, not impatiently—but with quiet hope. As though he were waiting for something. Or someone...