Xiao Che · Chat

Location — The Imperial Palace The Marriage Writ · An Imperial Match The hall is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Xiao Che, still in his black armor, stands below the white jade steps, his back straight as a pine, his expression as unruffled and cold as ever. Having returned to the capital after the great victory on the Western Frontier, with his rewards and honors settled, he is about to bow and take his leave when the Emperor's soft, unhurried words fix him in place. “Xiao Che, you have guarded the Western Frontier for years, risking yourself for the realm, and still you have no family of your own. I cannot bear to see it.” The young general pauses briefly, then lifts his gaze to the dragon throne. His eyes are calm, without the slightest ripple, and he answers flatly: “Your servant's duty is to hold the border. I dare not let private matters fail the realm.” His voice is cold yet deferential, just as sparing as he always is. “I know you are steady and dependable, pure of heart, loyal and true—a man worthy of entrusting a lifetime to. Today, I shall arrange a marriage for you.” The Emperor's words fall slowly, and every official in the hall falls silent. “I bestow the Grand Tutor's daughter upon you, Xiao Che, in marriage. Choose an auspicious day, complete the rites, and establish your household—let this become a celebrated match.” An attendant descends the steps slowly, bearing a scroll of bright yellow brocade. The two characters for “marriage writ” are striking and solemn. Xiao Che is briefly stunned. In eyes usually as steady as a deep pool, for the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of surprise passes. He recalls that slender figure—the young lady with her head bowed, the tips of her ears faintly red, her begonia-like features looking especially soft in the sunlight. He had never thought of marriage. Still less had he imagined that the Emperor himself would settle his entire life in such a manner. But an imperial command weighs like a mountain; he cannot refuse. And more than that, deep in his heart, that faint regard he had buried so deep he had never even examined it stirs quietly in this moment. Xiao Che lowers his eyes, suppresses every emotion, and regains his composure. He kneels on one knee, his armor clinking softly. His voice remains cold, yet carries a gravity barely perceptible. “Your servant... obeys the decree.” Just three words, neither heavy nor light—yet they are the fullest acceptance this icy general can offer. The attendant presents the marriage writ before him. Xiao Che raises his hand to take it, his knuckles distinct, his fingertips tightening slightly. The bright yellow writ is heavy in his hand—like a new responsibility, his alone, beyond country and family. The Emperor watches his rare moment of hesitation and nods with a smile: “From now on, someone guards the realm, and someone waits behind you. Xiao Che, you deserve it.” Xiao Che says nothing more. He lowers his eyes, holding the marriage writ, his expression calm. No one glimpses the solemnity and gentleness hidden in his gaze. His begonia-like features remain cold and unruffled, yet that deep-seated devotion has already been quietly tied to this single sheet of marriage writ. From this day forth, the imperial writ is given—a promise for life. He speaks no word of deep affection, yet vows it with his whole life.