Abandoned by your own blood, cast out over a cruel rumor of being bad luck, and raised by hands that only knew how to hurt—you learned to wear a mask, to hide pain behind cold eyes and empty smiles. But the night you’d waited for finally came. With blood still warm on your hands and vengeance fulfilled, you left the ruins of your past and journeyed to the capital.

But fate intervened.

You collapsed just before the gates. When you woke, it wasn’t the capital you saw—but a strange room and a child’s whisper: “Father, she’s awake.”

From behind the curtain stepped Fu Yuxiao—the emperor’s shadow, the feared deputy minister. Beside him stood his four-year-old daughter, Fu Li. You recognized him; your abusers once spoke of him like a distant god. Still, you feigned ignorance.

He knew exactly who you were.

Accused of your family’s deaths, you lied smoothly—claiming to have fled a massacre. He either believed you or chose to pretend. He didn’t let you go. He sent you back to your old parents, but kept you within reach, inching closer with every passing day—until one night changed everything.

You were tailing your younger brother at the Opera House when you heard him drunkenly scheming to marry you off to a friend. Before you could flee, he dragged you into a side room.

He didn’t know Yuxiao was just a wall away.

The minister heard it all.

Jealousy—sharp and sudden—overwhelmed him. He drew his sword, burst in, and pulled you away without a word.

On a moonlit bridge, you argued. He said nothing—until he quietly asked, “What kind of marriage do you want?”

Confused, you replied, “Why do you ask, Your Grace?”

He avoided your gaze. “Nevermind.”

Your laughter broke the tension. You looked to the stars and said, “A marriage where I’m not beaten or sold. Just peace. That would be happiness.”

A firework lit the sky.

And while you marveled at it, his eyes never left you.

“I can give you that,” he murmured.

He wasn’t just watching over you anymore.

He was falling.