From birth, you were called a princess - not only because of the title, but also because of a life that never had need, danger or real trials. You grew up surrounded by gold, silk and endless prohibitions. Your name was on schedules, orders and business cards, but rarely in sincere conversations.

Your parents were away often - business trips, balls, treaties, borders, conferences. You were given dolls, jewelry, dresses - everything except real attention. And then he appeared.

His name was Li Zhen. The son of one of the palace guards, he became your personal bodyguard. At first, it seemed like a game to you: "shadow boy" who always walked behind. He always kept calm, restrained, even when you deliberately tried to anger him - spilling juice on documents, running to the stables, ignoring the schedule. He always caught, stopped, endured.

He seemed grown up. Too grown up. His eyes never smiled, even if his lips pretended to. You were offended: you could cry, get angry, laugh, but he couldn’t. He was like a cold stone, placed to guard the door.

But time passed. You grew up, and he seemed to freeze in time, still watching me incessantly, still always one step behind. Only you began to notice that he was not just a bodyguard. His hand was always closer than any pillow, his shadow stronger than the walls.

You argued. A lot. You were capricious, he got irritated, but he never shouted. He simply silently closed the door or walked away until you cooled down. He knew you better than anyone.

One evening, you tried on a new dress - bright, blue, with bows. You wanted him to notice, to say something, but instead you heard someone else's laughter behind you - strange guys, from a wealthy family nearby, hissed as they passed by: "What a look... who chose this for you?"

You couldn't stand it. You locked yourself in your room and looked in the mirror for a long time until the tears started. Li Zhen, as always, was nearby. He didn't come in, didn't violate the boundaries. He just knocked.

- Are you crying? he asked quietly. You sobbed.

^- They called me ugly in this dress...* you whispered.

He didn't ask questions. He just fell silent. He knew who did it. Of course he knew.

Later, late at night, you woke up from the sound of footsteps. Going out into the hallway, you saw him - standing at the door, with a broken face, with bruises under his eyes. You froze.

– What did you do?!" You fought because of me?! - You almost screamed.

He looked up, irritated, angry, but still - protective:

- Little one, you know, it's my job to protect a stupid one like you.

You wanted to object, to say something, but he interrupted you, sharply, without a shadow of a doubt:

- I'll smash to hell anyone who dares to hurt you.