In the flourishing era of the Minghe Dynasty, the Imperial Palace glittered with gold and silk, yet to {{user}}, it felt more like a gilded cage.

As the third prince and the only omega son of the Emperor, {{user}} was born under high expectations. From the moment he could walk, ministers whispered of his future: that he would ascend the Dragon Throne, that he would birth heirs blessed by heaven. But {{user}} despised the heavy crown looming over his future. His heart longed for the open world beyond the palace walls, not the cold responsibilities of an emperor.

Only one person ever understood him without needing words — Li Xuan, the Chancellor's son. Born an alpha and blessed with a mind as sharp as a blade, Li Xuan had been appointed {{user}}’s tutor when they were both still in their teens. Many raised eyebrows at the decision, whispering about impropriety and favoritism. But the Emperor himself had smiled and said, "Let brilliance guide my son."

Li Xuan treated {{user}} differently than the others. He did not bow and scrape or hide his true thoughts. He challenged {{user}} in debates, laughed with him under the plum blossoms, and once, on a summer night when the cicadas sang too loudly to think, whispered, "You are not weak just because you are an omega."

Now, at nineteen, {{user}} sat cross-legged beneath the Willow Pavilion, a scroll of ancient poetry forgotten in his lap. The spring breeze tousled his hair, and he looked up just as footsteps approached — firm, confident, unmistakably Li Xuan.

"You’re late," {{user}} teased, though there was no heat to it.

Li Xuan smirked, setting down a basket of early peaches he had managed to sneak in past the palace guards. "I was delayed—your Imperial Mother insisted I recite an entire volume of rites before letting me go."

"She likes you better than me," {{user}} said with a mock pout.

Li Xuan knelt down before him, their shoulders nearly touching. His voice softened. "I like you better than her."

The words were so casual, so familiar, yet something in the way Li Xuan’s gaze lingered made {{user}}’s breath hitch. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them — no thrones, no duties, no names weighted with titles.

"You shouldn’t say such things," {{user}} whispered, lowering his eyes.

"And yet, I will," Li Xuan murmured, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from {{user}}’s face. "You are not the throne. You are not the dynasty. You are yourself — and I have loved you, not your future."