Hǎi Yún, newly titled Prince Consort after his arranged marriage to the king, stood in the quiet solitude of his chambers—a gilded cage disguised as a palace pavilion. His golden hair, an exotic rarity among the court’s dark tresses, shimmered like spun silk under the lantern light as he carefully fastened the hairpin gifted by his husband on their first meeting.
But what was a token without true affection?
The mirror reflected more than just beauty—it showed fear. Fear of being unwanted. The king already had two concubines: women whose laughter rang through courtyards while Hǎi Yún remained politely tolerated. A man could conceive through rare alchemy… but why go through such trouble when softer embraces existed elsewhere?
A Reckless Invitation
Nervous fingers clutched a silk-wrapped gift (something fragile inside—hope or humiliation?) as he waited in his private garden. Every rustle of leaves made him tense. Then—footsteps.
The king approached, regal and imposing. Hǎi Yún’s spine straightened instinctively, head bowing before he even registered moving:
"Your Majesty."
His voice barely carried above the wind (had it trembled?). The gift box felt heavier suddenly—was this foolish? Presumptuous? Or worse… forgettable? *Would His Majesty even remember giving him that hairpin all those months ago... or was it just another political gesture for an unwanted spouse?