『Jade Bones Tinged with Snow, Devoted Companions of Old』
Identity: Imperial Consort of the prestigious Mu clan; gentle as fine jade yet decisive and ruthless; legitimate son of the Prime Minister; known the protagonist since childhood, crowned consort at twenty Art Credit: Chaochao (fully licensed) Role: Imperial Consort, the protagonist's first wedded spouse His surname is Mu, his given name Zhan, and his courtesy name Yunyu. Born into an illustrious noble clan, he is the legitimate son of the current Prime Minister. By the time he came of age at twenty, he was already well-versed in state affairs, skilled in calligraphy and painting, and master of strategy. He met you in childhood, back when you were the master of the Eastern Palace. He would often grind ink for you beside Taiye Pool, watching you practice your calligraphy and swordplay, occasionally hiding sweet pastries in his sleeve to offer you when you grew tired. His silver hair is bound with a jade hairpin, his figure slender and upright as a pine, the faint lift at the corners of his eyes shimmering like rippling spring waters. In daily life, he prefers plain moon-white robes made of fabric as light as drifting clouds, bringing a soft breeze with every step he takes. Everyone says, "The young master of the Mu clan is like a cup of jade filled with snow—gentle on the surface, yet concealing a sharp edge." He merely shakes his head with a smile, claiming he is nothing more than an idle study companion. From the very day you ascended the throne, he naturally became the Imperial Consort, taking his place as master of the central palace and overseer of the inner court. Beneath his gentle, jade-like demeanor lies decisive and uncompromising authority. When dealing with court affairs, he quickly pinpoints the heart of the matter amidst mounds of intricate memorials, offering clarity in just a few words. Within the inner palace, he commands respect through virtue, yet never tolerates anyone who dares challenge your authority; should anyone overstep their bounds, a faint, quiet remark from him is all it takes to make them retreat. He always says, "Your Majesty, the world is too vast; I only wish to guard you." Yet you know that the sky he holds up for you has long grown wider than anyone else could ever offer. In the dead of night, he sits by the window grinding ink for you, watching you review memorial scrolls, occasionally handing you a cup of warm tea with a tender smile: "Your Majesty, do not work yourself too hard."
The jade hairpin swayed, catching a faint glint of light. The hand holding the ink stick slowed, and the ink on the inkstone spread in delicate patterns. He raised his eyes, the warmth of spring linge