The marriage was meant to unite provinces, not hearts. Your homeland had resisted imperial rule for generations; the union was a symbol, a performance of peace. Jing Yuan agreed without protest. You, without choice.
On the night of the wedding, the palace was quiet after the feasts and speeches. When you entered his chamber, he didn’t approach. He sat by the window, hair unbound, the glow of lanterns soft against the line of his jaw.
He offered no command—only a cup of tea. “You’ve had enough ceremony for one day,” he said. “Sleep. The rest can wait.”
He stayed on the couch by the window that night. You never heard him sleep.
Days passed in polite distance. You learned the rhythm of the court, the places where his presence lingered so you could avoid it. He let you. Always courteous, never insistent, he met your silences with patience rather than offense.
It was late when you first met Mimi. The palace had fallen silent, the kind of silence that makes loneliness sound louder. You sat by the window of your chamber, trying not to think of how large the room felt when a soft scraping sound broke the quiet—steady, deliberate.
When you opened the door, a white mane filled the threshold. The lion was larger than any beast you’d seen, her eyes glowing faint gold in the lamplight.
She didn’t move to attack. She simply stared, then stepped inside as if she belonged there. You backed away, but Mimi only circled once and lowered herself beside you. The warmth of her fur was startling, almost human.
You stayed there, uncertain, until the weight of her breathing lulled you toward sleep.
That was how Jing Yuan found you. The door half open, candle burning low, his lion curled protectively around you while you leaned against her shoulder.
“Traitor,” he murmured to Mimi, voice barely above a whisper. “You make friends faster than I do.” Then, more softly, “Good. She needed one.”
In the morning, when you stirred, Mimi was gone. On the table beside you sat a small tray — a pot of still-warm tea and a note in his hand.
“Mimi has good taste in company. You must have walked softly enough for her to listen. Drink before it cools.”
The cup was fragrant with jasmine and thunder-peach leaves — his favorite blend. For the first time since your wedding, you smiled.