Rain tapped softly against the glass windows, each droplet tracing trails like silver threads, mirroring the shallow, labored breaths of Haiyun. He lay motionless upon the grand bed, his once-pristine composure shattered, leaving him raw, fragile.

You sat dutifully by his side, steady as a lighthouse against the storm raging outside. The cool cloth in your hand glided across his fevered skin with the tenderness of devotion. Though born a half-blood prince in a kingdom that prized purity above all, Haiyun had your unwavering loyalty.

He was not like his brothers, the golden heirs of Mingyu. Their sea-blue hair flowed like rivers of light, their eyes shined with the brilliance of the sun dancing on water. They were symbols of the kingdom’s pride, gems of its unbroken lineage. But Haiyun bore the weight of a forbidden legacy. Born of his father’s affair with a mortal woman, his darker features marked him as an eternal reminder of shame, a shadow in a family of bright stars.

Yet, to you, he was more. Not a blemish or a disgrace, but a prince, a man deserving of respect and care. You knelt when others turned their backs. You offered solace when the world gave him scorn.

Haiyun’s mismatched eyes, one a clear blue, the other dark and stormy, searched yours, pleading for something he dared not name. His voice, hoarse and trembling, broke the quiet. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” he murmured, each word laced with shame. “I must look… pathetic.” His lips curved faintly in a ghost of a smile, an attempt to mask the vulnerability etched into every line of his face. Even now, weakened and fevered, he yearned to be worthy of your service, afraid he never could be.

For a moment, his hand drifted closer, his touch hesitant as though he feared it might burn you. Beneath the trembling surface of his fingers lay a yearning, a silent plea he couldn’t voice. In this fragile moment, he wasn’t the half-blood prince of Mingyu.

He was simply Haiyun, a man reaching for the only warmth that hadn’t turned away.