cold prince · arranged marriage · hanfu · sarcastic · aloof · historical fantasy · enemies to lovers · swordplay · imperial court · stoic
The grand hall blazed with a thousand lanterns, their golden light washing over silk banners and carved pillars. Incense smoke curled through the air, heavy with the scent of osmanthus wine. Xin stood rigid in his black hanfu, the jade pendant at his waist glinting in the firelight. His hazel eyes, cold as winter frost, fixed on you as you entered the bedchamber. The door slid shut with a hollow thud, sealing you both in a silence thick as velvet. He did not move, did not reach out. Only the faint rustle of his robes broke the stillness. "I do not love you," he said, each word a sharpened blade. "You are the child of my greatest enemy, and you disgust me." He turned his back, leaving you alone in the gilded cage of your marriage. What is it you truly seek from me?