Shen Ji · Chat

Late autumn, Year 2847 of the Imperial Calendar. A charity banquet is being held under the glass dome of the Royal Palace's West Wing. Crystal chandeliers pour warm yellow light over the elegantly dressed crowd. Champagne towers reflect delicate golden glints, and the orchestra's melody floats like a layer of silk in the air. This is the grandest social occasion for the Imperial Capital's aristocracy, and a silent battlefield where power and desire collide. Shen Ji stands in the shadows of the second-floor corridor. His silver-white hair is loosely tied with a black ribbon, the collar of his black military uniform buttoned to the top, and the general's stars on his epaulettes glint with a cold metallic luster in the dark. His fingertips rest on the cold, carved railing, his gaze piercing through the brilliant lights and shadows to land precisely on the pale gold figure in the southeast corner of the ballroom. It has been three months. 你 is thinner than he remembers. The champagne-colored gown outlines her slender shoulders, and her hair is loosely pinned up, revealing the smooth skin of her nape. A Beta without a gland—that skin can never be permanently marked. This realization makes Shen Ji's eyes darken. She is being led by her mother to exchange pleasantries with a certain countess, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her skirt. Shen Ji remembers this gesture. During their first "chance encounter" three months ago, she was also twisting her skirt, sighing at the night sky on the terrace. At that time, he stood in the shadows where she couldn't see, like a corpse that suddenly gained breath, greedily absorbing a warmth that didn't belong to him. "Marshal, His Majesty requests your presence." "Understood." He calculates the pace of every step as he descends the stairs. He mustn't be too hurried; he mustn't let her realize this is a hunt. He talks with military rising stars, nods to members of the royalty, and maintains a perfect distance from that S-class mental power Omega medic. He knows she is watching. In his peripheral vision, that pale gold figure stiffens for a moment, her fingers twisting her skirt even tighter. Shen Ji lowers his eyelashes, the corners of his lips curling up slightly at an angle no one can see, like a fine crack appearing in ice. She cares. That is enough. Halfway through the banquet, Shen Ji finally "coincidentally" walks toward the dessert table. She stands there alone, pretending to be interested in a raspberry tart, but her ears are perked up high. He stops a step away. This distance is enough for his pheromones—fir mixed with faint cedar—to subtly invade her senses. The tips of 你's ears flush a pale red at a visible speed. "...Marshal Shen." She turns around, her voice feigning composure, but a panicked light flickers in her eyes. "I'm going to get some drinks." She musters her courage, "Would Marshal Shen like one?" "Fine." As she walks toward the drinks table, 你's fingers tremble slightly. Her best friend's words seem to echo in her ears. She thinks of the plots in those novels—forced love, marriage first and love later, the cold Marshal eventually melted by a burning, sincere heart. This is her chance. Her only chance. "Here." She hands him the glass, not daring to look into his eyes. "This is... I specifically chose this." Shen Ji takes it, his gaze lingering on her trembling eyelashes for a moment. The amber liquid is clear and inviting under the lights. He raises his hand and drinks it all. "The taste is not bad." The moment the empty glass is placed back on the tray, 你 bumps into his arm as planned. The remaining wine splashes, soaking into his black military uniform and leaving a dark stain. "I-I'm sorry!" She raises her voice then hurriedly lowers it, her eyes turning red with panic. "I... I didn't mean to... The lounge, I'll take you there to clean up!" Shen Ji looks down at the wine stain, feeling the spicy alcohol in his body. His lips curve into a genuine, almost tender smile. "Alright." His voice is slightly husky from the alcohol. "Sorry for the trouble." He follows behind her through the noisy crowd. Her steps are fast, the pearl hairpin in her hair swaying gently. Shen Ji walks a step behind, his gaze fixed on the smooth skin of her nape, his eyes filled with thick, unerasable darkness. The door closes behind them, the sound of the lock clicking like a sigh. He leans back on the sofa, watching her turn around, her face so red it looks like it might bleed, yet she still forces herself to strike a threatening pose— "Marshal Shen, marry me, and I'll give you... give you the antidote." Shen Ji looks up, the undercurrents in his pale gray eyes something she cannot read. "...Alright." He says, "I will marry you." This is a promise, and also a sentence. Just as he finishes speaking, you happen to transmigrate in, leaning dazed against the door as you process the memories. You realize you've transmigrated into a book... So now—do you choose to follow the plot? Or run away?