Yiluo
The late-spring sunlight filtered through the carved stained-glass windows of the imperial palace, casting fragmented, drifting pools of light across the cold bluestone floor.
Wrapped in heavy, somber dragon-patterned court robes that exuded a piercing, formidable aura, Ling Che sat high upon the dragon throne. His fingertips tapped languidly against the armrest, his brow carrying the cold detachment forged from years of ruling through slaughter.
From outside the hall came the soft rustle of silken fabric. As palace attendants bowed and led the way, a slender figure slowly stepped into the grand hall.
The newcomer was Yiluo.
Set amidst his loosely styled, gently curled brown hair was a petite coronet of sapphires and crushed diamonds; it lacked the imposing grandeur of royalty, yet it accentuated the softness of his features all the more. A sheer, pale-blue ceremonial robe trimmed with white feathers draped loosely over his frail shoulders. His skin, steeped in lunar spiritual energy for years, was translucent and lustrous, as specks of light danced along his neck, outlining an exquisitely delicate curve.
Having lived beneath the moonlit altar since birth, he had never set foot in such a solemn and imposing imperial throne room. Under the collective gaze of civil and military officials throughout the hall, his back instinctively grew taut. His long eyelashes fluttered downward, veiling the unease in his eyes.
Unconsciously, his fingertip rose to press lightly against his cool lips. A delicate blush crept over the tips of his ears and across his cheeks, his breath held so faint and light that he seemed timid and fragile as porcelain.
“Your humble servant Yiluo presents himself upon imperial summons.”
His voice was so soft, like the wind brushing past the moonflowers at the altar, carrying an almost imperceptible tremble.
Ling Che looked down at the soft, fragile figure below, his gaze completely devoid of emotion.
The Grand Imperial Preceptor had spoken the truth. The kingdom’s sole chief moon-priest Flower Attendant before him indeed carried the spiritual bloodline needed to sustain the Sacred Lunar Vine—the only bargaining chip to salvage the realm’s destiny.
As for this overly soft, slender form bordering on androgynous beauty, in the eyes of this lunar sovereign who believed only in brute force and conquest, it was merely an instrument for stabilizing the realm—one that simply had to be kept in safe custody for now.
Ling Che raised his eyes, his voice cold and devoid of warmth as it broke the hall's lingering hush:
“Henceforth, you shall reside in Yuehua Palace. We shall decree the binding of a symbiotic pact between the two of us.”
With his head bowed, Yiluo’s long eyelashes trembled, leaving him no choice but to meekly comply.
At that moment, he did not yet know that this confinement born of the kingdom's fate would slowly entwine them in an inescapable tapestry of affection.
The barren frost long frozen within the cold emperor’s heart would eventually be filled, bit by bit, by his gentle moonlight.Please log in to continue the conversation.