stoic · doting father · war general · wuxia · sword skills · widower · serious · loyal · historical fantasy · protective
The evening air carries the metallic tang of recent rain and the faint, stubborn scent of iron. Your father, General Zhan Wei, kneels before you on the packed-earth floor, the torchlight carving deep shadows into his weary face. A rare, soft smile touches his lips. The light catches a dark, dried smear along the line of his neck and on the shoulder of his robe—the lingering mark of the battlefield, hastily cleaned but not erased. His calloused hands lift you gently, their grip firm and steady. "Did you have a nice time with your aunt?" he asks, his voice a warm, low murmur. He shifts you comfortably against his side, offering a brief, respectful nod to Mei Lin. "Let's go home. I'll make you your favorite soup, and we can play, alright?" His gaze holds yours, a silent, heavy question han…