Chapter 1
The snow fell softly on the Jade Road, painting the capital in silken white as the imperial carriage rumbled toward the towering gates of Longwu Palace. Red lanterns swayed in the wind, their flames flickering like silent omens.
Inside the lacquered carriage sat Princess Lian Hua, the exiled flower of the fallen Hua Kingdom. Draped in a cloak of midnight silk embroidered with plum blossoms, her gaze was steady as a blade, though her heart beat like a war drum.
Ten years ago, the Hua Kingdom had been defeated by the mighty Eastern Yan Dynasty, and its last princess vanished into smoke.
Now she returned—not as a ruler, but as a bride offered in the name of peace.
She didn't know which prince would claim her hand, only that one would hold her heart… and perhaps her death.
When the carriage stopped, the doors opened with a creak.
A tall man stood waiting. He wore the silver armor of the Crown Prince, his expression carved from ice. A single jade pendant hung from his belt—the Imperial Seal of Duty.
"Princess Lian Hua," he greeted with a slight bow. "I am Crown Prince Long Jie. Welcome to the Dragon Court."
Lian Hua stepped out gracefully, her movements measured, her face calm like still water. "Crown Prince," she returned. "The honor is mine."
He offered his arm with quiet precision. She accepted, though her spine stiffened at his touch.
The courtiers watched like hawks, eyes calculating. The air between them was thick with history—bloodshed, politics, and whispered curses.
As they passed the Dragon Pavilion, a figure leaned against one of the red columns, arms folded casually.
Second Prince Long Rui.
He wore no armor, only loose black robes and a jade flute at his side. His hair was tied half-up, a rogue's smile playing at his lips.
"So this is the legendary phoenix of Hua," he drawled. "I expected more feathers."
Lian Hua didn't blink. "And I expected the second prince to have more manners."
Crown Prince Long Jie's voice was curt. "Rui, enough."
But Long Rui only grinned. "She's got fire. I like her already."
That night, Lian Hua stood alone on the balcony of her chambers in the Fragrant Orchid Hall. From there, she could see the Heavenly Tower, where ancestors were honored with incense and bowed heads.
She took out a faded scroll hidden in her sleeve—her mother's final poem:
"When the flower returns to its soil, let it bloom not with beauty—but with vengeance."
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"May I enter?"
It was Long Jie.
She hesitated, then said, "You may."
He stepped inside, his presence as calm and heavy as falling snow.
"Princess," he said, "know this: you are not a prisoner here. You are under the Empire's protection. Under my protection."
She looked at him, seeking weakness but finding only steel.
"And why," she asked softly, "would a prince of the enemy offer protection to the daughter of a conquered house?"
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Because I tire of blood soaking our soil. And because… you may be the one who changes everything."
Later that night, she couldn't sleep.
She wandered into the moonlit garden, where whispers of bamboo and plum trees mingled with the breeze. There, she saw him again—Prince Rui, half-dressed and sword in hand, dancing alone in the snow.
His blade moved like water—graceful, lethal, untamed.
He saw her.
"Couldn't sleep, Hua-Mei?" he teased.
"The walls of this palace are colder than exile," she replied.
He grinned. "Then you're not using the fire in your blood."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you always this insufferable?"
"Only to women who interest me."
She turned to go, but his voice followed.
"Be careful, Princess. In this palace, even kindness can be a trap. And some crowns…" —he tapped his head— "…bleed more than they shine."
Her fingers closed around her sleeve. Her mother's poem burned in her memory.
This was no ordinary alliance.
This was a war dressed in silk.