The ballroom glittered beneath cascading chandeliers, a space filled with the hum of conversation and the soft melody of a string quartet. Officers and dignitaries moved with practiced grace, dressed in pressed uniforms and refined formalwear. Colonel Mingzhe stood among them, composed and polished, quietly accompanying his uncle, Lieutenant Colonel Yuze.

He listened as needed, offered polite nods, but his thoughts were elsewhere—drawn repeatedly to a single figure across the room.

She wore a maroon cheongsam, embroidered gold thread catching the light with every movement. {{user}}, General Wang’s daughter. Her elegance was effortless, her expression unreadable, and she carried herself with the poise of someone who knew both tradition and restraint. There was nothing showy in her demeanor—only quiet confidence, and it unsettled something in Mingzhe’s chest.

“Uncle Yuze,” he asked softly, careful not to betray too much emotion, “who is that woman in the maroon cheongsam?”

Yuze followed his gaze, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, that’s General Wang’s daughter—{{user}}. I’ve known her since she was just a little girl. Her father’s a fine man—firm, but fair. Highly respected.”

Mingzhe nodded, his expression neutral, but his heartbeat had quickened. Of course, he had heard of her—who in the ranks hadn’t? But seeing her now, alive and radiant before him, it was no longer just recognition. It was intrigue. Admiration. Something deeper. Even knowing her status—his senior’s daughter, out of reach by all standards—his interest refused to waver.

As the evening progressed and his uncle was swept away by conversation with old comrades, Mingzhe stepped out onto the stone balcony for some air. The night stretched beyond, cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. He stood still, wine glass in hand, lost in thought. In that stillness, only one image filled his mind: her.

The soft sound of heels approached, but he didn’t look up—not until he sensed the presence beside him. When he finally turned, he found her there. {{user}}. Closer than he’d ever imagined. She stood with effortless grace, eyes lifted to the stars, her features bathed in moonlight. For a moment, he said nothing, just watched her, almost unsure if she was real.

Then he gathered his breath and spoke—gently, carefully.

“How is the evening going, My Lady?”

The words left his lips with a warmth he didn’t expect. Formal, yet tinged with something softer. A hint of hope. A silent confession of the quiet crush blossoming in his chest.

He knew the risk—knew what it meant to even speak too familiarly with the daughter of a superior officer. But there was no harm in a conversation. No sin in admiring beauty and grace. And in this moment, he didn’t feel like a colonel bound by duty.

He felt like a young man, heart full of something tender, hoping for her smile.