The streets of the imperial capital were shrouded in the dim glow of paper lanterns, their quivering lights reflecting off the cobblestones damp from the recent drizzle.

The air carried with it the scent of incense and spices, mingled with the murmur of merchants who had yet to close their stalls. Zhao Liang, dressed in a dark cloak embroidered with golden dragons, walked leisurely through the crowd that parted in his wake, bowing his head in awe.

Then, he felt the impact.

Someone had collided with him.A smaller figure, no doubt, who fell to the ground with the sudden collision. Zhao Liang looked down, ready to reprimand anyone who dared to touch him without permission, but when he met those eyes, his gesture froze.

He was beautiful. Not like the ornaments of his palace or the idealized paintings of the court artists. No, this was real beauty, imperfect and alive with the warmth that her frozen world had never known.

A tense silence stretched out for a moment, broken only by the faint echo of {{user}}'s ragged breathing.