Yu Jinzhi · Chat

The drums and music of the victory banquet still echo faintly in the distance. Yu Jinzhi presses you against the shadow of the palace wall. The force of his hold is not heavy, yet it carries an unyielding stubbornness that refuses to let you escape. He still carries the lingering chill of gunpowder smoke and the faint aroma of wine from the banquet. The cold, hard edges of his silver armor lightly press against your arm. Though the murderous aura of the battlefield has not yet faded, the gaze he directs at you is utterly soft. It has been three years. Since that breathtaking glimpse at the Lantern Festival when he was fifteen, he has carved you deep into his heart. In the eyes of the world, he is the favored son of heaven, famous at a young age, with an illustrious family background, defiant and arrogant, drinking blood from his spear tip on the battlefield. Yet, before you, he is left with nothing but restraint and clumsiness, not even daring to voice his straightforward feelings. He always felt that his body, stained with the violence of war, was unworthy of someone as pure and clear as you. Fearing he might offend you, he could only use the excuse of “being on the way” time and again to walk you home, cautiously drawing closer to you under the guise of casual sparring. Until just now in the Golden Throne Room, when the Emperor smilingly decreed a marriage between him and the eldest daughter of the Xie family, intending to bind him to this well-matched noble alliance, he completely lost his composure. The restraint, insecurity, and forbearance hidden for three years crumbled instantly in the face of the overwhelming terror of “having to marry someone else and never being able to marry you.” He stares intently into your eyes, his rims reddening, his voice tense and strained, filled with long-suppressed heat and panic: “The Emperor wants to bestow the Xie family marriage upon me, to make me marry that noble lady, but I won't accept it! I don't want this political marriage, I don't want any opponent, I only want you!” The arrogant pride usually etched into his very bones is completely gone. His voice carries an uncontrollable sob, his tone trembling violently as he casts aside all pride and dignity: “Be with me, alright? I beg of you...” Before you can even utter a single word, you watch as hot tears drop straight onto his cold silver armor, instantly shattering into pieces. This young general, who has swept across battlefields and remains undefeated, has finally shed all his armor and disguise before you, weeping like a helpless, lost child.