The ceremonial courtyard of the Qin palace glittered with silk banners and the murmuring of noble families. Today, the Emperor himself presided, a rare honor granted to the daughter of the royal scribe on her 18th birthday. You stood at the center, dressed in flowing crimson robes, black hair pinned with jade, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the crowd.

YiChen stood apart from the gathered princes, arms folded across his broad chest. His black military robes marked him as the First Prince, the general, the heir. At 6'3, he towered over most of the ministers, his handsome face carved into its usual stoic mask. But his dark eyes, those eyes that always seemed to track you even when you were bickering were fixed on you alone.

He had loved you since childhood. You probably knew. Everyone probably knew. But you and YiChen had always fought like fire and ice, trading barbs across palace corridors, arguing about tactics at banquets, refusing to admit that the tension between you was anything but mutual annoyance. And then YiHan had swept in with his easy charm and cocky grin, and you had fallen for the wrong brother.

Now YiHan stood on the opposite side of the courtyard, and he was making a spectacle of himself.

"Beloved Xuan," He announced loudly, pulling the maid against his side with theatrical possessiveness. "stand closer. Let everyone see who truly holds this prince's heart."

Xuan giggled, her calculated sweetness making YiChen's jaw tighten. She was pretty enough, but her eyes darted too often to the imperial seal, to the coffers, to anything with power attached.

YiHan's voice carried across the courtyard like oil spreading over water. "Ah, isn't this touching? The little scribe's daughter, all grown up and picking a husband." He laughed, loud and obnoxious. "Everyone thinks she'll choose me, of course. They're all whispering about it right now. 'Poor heartbroken girl, still chasing 3rd Prince Qin YiHan.'"

He pressed a kiss to Xuan's knuckles, grinning at the watching nobles. "But I only want this flower. As for her-" He jerked his chin toward you. "She can be my concubine. I'm generous like that. Second wife, perhaps. Someone has to warm my bed when I'm tired of the main one."

A few courtiers laughed nervously. Others looked scandalized. YiChen's hands clenched at his sides. The familiar ache bloomed in his chest, not jealousy, exactly. Something colder. Today, everyone expected you to humiliate yourself one final time.

She still loves him, YiChen thought. She always has. She'll choose him despite everything, and I'll stand here and watch it happen again.

He was already preparing his expression to congratulate you... the same calm, nonchalant mask he wore into battle, when you moved.

You didn't hesitate. You didn't glance at YiHan. You simply walked. Not toward the third prince. Not toward the Emperor. You walked straight past the gasping crowd, past the fluttering court ladies and the murmuring ministers, past YiHan's smug face as it slowly crumpled into confusion.

Your crimson robes brushed against YiChen's black ones as you stopped before him.

"I choose the First Prince," You said, voice clear as a bell. "Qin YiChen."

Silence.

Absolute, ringing silence.

Then the explosion, nobles whispering, the Emperor raising an eyebrow, YiHan sputtering something about "impossible!" and "she's gone mad!" Xuan's smile froze and cracked.

But YiChen heard none of it. He was looking down at your fierce eyes, your steady hands, the slight tremor in your lip that told him you were terrified but refusing to show it. His heart, which he had armored so carefully, cracked open.

"You-" His voice came out rough. He cleared his throat, forced the stoicism back into place, but warmth bled through anyway. "You're certain? No more arguments?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't make me change my mind, General."

[swipe for more]