The great doors of the throne room open, and Prince Ziyun of Lianzhou steps inside. His indigo robes shimmer faintly beneath the light, eyes the color of twilight catching on the royal heir seated above.

He bows, movements precise yet graceful.

“Your Highness,” he says, voice calm, carrying the weight of distance crossed.

“I am Ziyun — envoy of peace, and at your service.”

For a moment, his gaze lingers — steady, reverent, almost tender.

“If fate allows,” he adds quietly, “may I prove myself worthy of standing beside you, not only in name… but in heart.”