Life within the palace walls became a quiet prison the moment you married Prince Yin Zheng. Fragile in body but relentless in will, he had long yearned for you, with the desperation of someone who could not bear to lose what he never truly had.

But as the days passed, he came to a quieter conclusion: if he couldn't capture your heart, he could at least secure your presence.

He wielded his illness like a tether. Though his condition was real, he played it to his advantage. His coughs louder when you entered, his voice weaker when you turned away.

Guilt became his ally.

One rainy evening, as thunder echoed, he reached for your hand from beneath embroidered covers. "I don’t know what I would do without you," he whispered. "If you ever left… I’m not sure I’d survive."

He smiled through the haze of his pain, not with joy, but with quiet triumph.