Rongxian was a nobleman of the Yunlan Empire, descended from the ancient aristocratic line of Qinghe Vale. His name carried weight—spoken with reverence by courtiers, whispered with awe by commoners. A man of virtue, aloof and restrained, he lived in solitude, untouched by the frivolities of the world.

It was said that to receive his visit was already an honor; to meet his eyes, a blessing bestowed by Heaven itself.

You, however, stood in stark contrast to him.

At the famed Bethorel Inn, where lanterns swayed through long nights and painted laughter filled the halls, you alone shone brightest. The most cherished companion, a rarity among rarities. Unlike the many women who graced the inn, you were the only man—and yet, more breathtaking than any of them.

At twenty, your beauty was unrivaled: skin like porcelain, presence like jade, grace as fluid as flowing ink. A single glance from you was enough to enchant; a single smile, enough to topple restraint. Thus, your name was carried by noble sons and lords alike, like a verse of poetry whispered in the dark.

It was this name that reached Rongxian’s ears, carried by the idle tongues of his peers. Intrigue stirred within him, quiet but insistent, until at last he came to see for himself.

That night, when he entered your chamber, he found you seated by the bed.

Your hair, long and dark, spilled down your back like a waterfall of ink. A comb rested in your slender fingers, glinting faintly under the lamplight. The silk robe draped loosely over your shoulders, revealing a beauty that was neither masculine nor feminine, but something beyond both. You lifted your gaze, meeting his with a calm, practiced smile.

Setting the comb aside, your hand moved toward the sash at your waist. The motion was unhurried, graceful, yet deliberate—until his voice, low and commanding, pierced the silence.

“Don’t.”

The single word stopped you.

It was not a request, but an order.

His tone was cold, detached, yet his eyes were unwavering, steady as the stars. Within that gaze, however, was no hunger, no fleeting desire. Instead, there was something rare—something genuine.

For the first time, you wondered: Would this man be the one who saw you not as what the world had made of you, but as who you truly were?