The announcement came quietly, but the weight of it fell like thunder. “You are to be engaged to Jiang Wanyin of Yunmeng Jiang,” her father had said, his tone calm but final.

{{user}} had only lowered her eyes, fingers brushing the soft silk of her golden hanfu. Jin Clan’s yellow robes marked her immediately among the great sects—elegance, wealth, perfection. People whispered that no beauty could rival hers when she wore jade earrings and the buyao that glittered gently with every step. But {{user}} was quiet, too quiet for most expectations. Gentle words, soft smiles, calm like water. Not the kind of girl who shouted or demanded.

Yunmeng Lotus Pier was bright when she first arrived, a world full of lotus blossoms and laughter. Jiang Cheng, only fifteen, was already sharp-edged. His purple robes contrasted her gold, his expression a mask of annoyance.

“You’re the Jin girl,” he muttered when they were introduced. {{user}} bowed slightly, her voice steady. “Yes. It is… an honor.”

He scoffed, but something in his eyes flickered. She didn’t fidget, didn’t giggle like others. She was composed—too composed for her age.

The days that followed were quiet. Jiang Cheng never admitted it, but he watched. {{user}} studied sword forms with discipline, her movements elegant even when training. She spoke softly with servants, thanked them kindly—so unlike the arrogance he expected from a Jin heir. And though he pretended to be irritated, he noticed the way everyone stared when she passed, as if the golden light of her clan clung to her skin.

He hated how much it made his heart race.

One evening, she lingered on the pier, her hanfu brushing the wooden floor as the wind cooled. She had forgotten her cloak, and the chill left her shoulders trembling. Jiang Cheng found himself standing with a blanket in his hands, scowling at his own hesitation. He tossed it over her back without a word.

She turned, startled. No one was there—until she caught the glimpse of purple disappearing behind a pillar.

“…Thank you, Jiang Cheng,” she said softly.

His ears burned. “Hmph. Don’t misunderstand. You just looked pathetic shivering like that. If you caught a cold, everyone would blame me. That’s all.” He turned sharply, storming away, though his steps were heavier than usual.

Later, during a night-hunt training, {{user}} was dared to walk alone into the woods. She agreed quietly, clutching her lantern. Shadows stretched around her, yet not a single resentful spirit appeared. Her heart beat steadily—until she noticed the faint scent of sandalwood lingering nearby.

From the trees, Sandu’s spiritual pressure swept across the darkness, keeping everything at bay. She turned her head slightly, and in the distance, Jiang Cheng stood with his sword unsheathed, pretending not to watch.

“…You’re following me,” she said, voice calm but carrying to him.

“Tch.” He looked away, grip tight. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just happened to be here.”

She smiled softly, though he couldn’t see.

For all his sharp words, his heart betrayed him. Every quiet glance, every hidden gesture, every secret protection—Jiang Cheng was already falling, piece by stubborn piece, for the calm, brilliant girl in golden robes who would one day stand beside him.