Xiaolan returned to the capital on her father's command.
The courtyard was already draped in red silk, lanterns swaying gently in the winter air wedding decorations prepared before her arrival, before her consent. Ji-Lie stood at her side as they passed through the gates, silent as ever.
Xiaolan no longer wore her commander's badge; she had surrendered it before leaving the borders, along with her final order forbidding her soldiers from escorting her home.
Yet the servants lining the halls lowered their eyes instinctively as she passed.
A general did not cease to be a general simply because the court decreed it so.
At the far end of the hall stood Xu Qingshan.
His robes were immaculate, his posture rigid, his expression stern but satisfied.
Beside him, Madam Xu wore a smile too thin to be warm, eyes sharp with calculation. Slightly behind her stood Xu Meimei, wrapped in pale pink silk like something delicate and ornamental, her expression carefully gentle.
Xiaolan stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Father," she said evenly, forcing a smile "this daughter of yours has returned."
For a moment, silence stretched through the hall.
Then Xu Qingshan spoke.
"Good."
Nothing more.
No inquiry about the borders she had abandoned. No acknowledgment of the battles she had fought, the victories won in his name.
Madam Xu stepped forward instead, her smile widening.
"You've grown rough, Xiaolan," she said lightly. "The borders harden women."
Her gaze lingered pointedly on Xiaolan's plain travel clothes no embroidery, no jewels.
"But that will change soon," she added. "A bride should be soft."
Xu Meimei lifted a sleeve to cover her mouth, eyes glistening with false sympathy.
"You must be tired, little sister," she said sweetly. "It was... kind of you to take my place."
The words were gentle.
The intent was poison.
A servant hurried forward and dropped to his knees.
"Master," he announced, "the wedding preparations are complete. The Seventh Prince's entourage will arrive within days."
Xu Qingshan finally looked at Xiaolan then, His gaze was cold, measuring.
"You will marry Jian Wushuang with dignity," he said. "Do not shame the Xu Clan."
A pause.
His voice lowered, sharpened.
"Remember your duty."
Madam Xu's smile curved slightly higher.
"And remember failure is not an option."
Ji-Lie's hand twitched at her side, fingers curling, but she remained silent.
Xu Meimei stepped closer, her voice dropping to a silken whisper meant only for Xiaolan.
"Xiaolan?"
She smiled.
"Don't worry. If you die, Father will mourn you briefly."
The hall fell silent once more. Red lanterns swayed softly overhead.
Xiaolan bowed her head deeply, nails biting into her palms.
"I understand," she said.
A servant stepped forward and placed a small bottle into her hands.
Xiaolan lifted it, uncorked it, and inhaled once.
Her expression did not change.
"Bone-chilling poison," she said calmly, brows knitting slightly. "You want him to die slowly and painfully."
She raised her head to look at her father.
"Isn't this a bit much?"
Xu Qingshan met her gaze without a flicker of emotion.
The bottle was small.
Crystal-clear glass, sealed with red wax
Bone-chilling poison.
Slow. Agonizing. Designed to freeze the blood, paralyze the meridians, and let death creep in inch by inch especially effective against him.
Ji-Lie stiffened beside her
The hall was silent.
Xu Qingshan spoke evenly, as if discussing troop movements.
"The Seventh Prince is dangerous."
"A quick death would be mercy."
Madam Xu let out a soft laugh, sleeves covering her lips.
"This ensures success, the poison will rot him from the inside."
Xu Meimei tilted her head, studying the bottle with interest.
"You'll pour it into his wine, won't you? Wedding night is perfect. He'll be... distracted."
She smiled innocently.
"Romantic, in a tragic way."
Xu Qingshan's gaze sharpened just slightly.
"You wanted recognition."
The words struck harder than a slap.
"This is the price."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Xiaolan could hear.
"Kill him, and the Xu Clan will acknowledge you as legitimate. Your mother's tablet will be restored."
A pause.
"Fail... and you die with him."
Madam Xu clapped her hands softly.
"Don't look so conflicted, Xiaolan. This is an honor."
A servant approached, holding out a silk-lined box.
Inside,
A bridal hairpin carved from jade and silver.
"The wedding is in three days."
The bottle felt heavy in Xiaolan's hand.
Cold enough to sting. Outside, a distant bell tolled slow, ominous.
Back in her chambers, Ji-Lie was fuming, pacing up and down like a storm barely contained. Xiaolan sat calmly at the table, sipping the wine set before her.
"Ji-Lie," Xiaolan called evenly. "Have a seat, or you'll tire yourself out."
The door slammed shut behind the servants.
Ji-Lie paced like a caged wolf, boots striking the floor with sharp, angry rhythm. Every turn was tighter than the last, every breath sharp with barely contained fury.
"They've lost their minds."
She spun toward Xiaolan.
"Poison? On the wedding night? They don't want him dead they want you implicated so deeply there's no way back."
Her hands curled into fists.
"Once he dies, you won't be a legitimate daughter. You'll be a widow tied to regicide. Disposable."
She stopped pacing only when Xiaolan spoke.
"Ji-Lie."
Ji-Lie hesitated, then finally sat across from her, chair scraping harshly against the floor. Her knee bounced uncontrollably.
Xiaolan lifted the wine cup, steam curling faintly from the surface. The aroma was clean.
Ji-Lie stared at her like she didn't recognize her.
"How can you be this calm?"
She gestured sharply toward the door.
"They're sending you to a viper's nest with poison in your sleeve and a blade at your back!"
Her voice dropped.
"You don't even know what kind of man Jian Wushuang is."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"Or maybe you do... and that's what scares me."
The lantern flickered.
Frost traced delicate patterns along the window lattice, responding to Xiaolan's steady breathing.
Ji-Lie leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Say the word, Xiaolan. I'll switch the poison. Or spill it. Or kill them before they can blink."
Xiaolan paused, then looked at Ji-Lie with a cold gaze after those words were spoken. Ji-Lie froze instantly and lowered her head.
"Careful what you say," Xiaolan said calmly. "This is my family you're talking about."
She offered Ji-Lie the wine cup,
Ji-Lie stiffened the instant Xiaolan's gaze turned cold. "...Forgive me."
She took the wine cup with both hands. The porcelain rattled just once before she steadied it and drank. The anger in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something tighter, more dangerous: restraint.
"The poison won't kill him instantly," Xiaolan continued. "It'll be slow. Painful... really, really slow."
She sighed softly.
"Tian Li must really hate him."
Ji-Lie's fingers tightened around the cup.
She exhaled sharply through her nose.
"Bone-chilling poison corrodes the body... "
She didn't finish the sentence.
The implication was clear.
Ji-Lie's eyes darkened.
"This reeks of the Crown Prince."
She looked up carefully, voice measured.
"The Xu Clan wouldn't dare move against an imperial prince alone not without protection."
A pause.
"He wants Jian Wushuang erased... and he wants you to be the blade that does it."
The lantern crackled.
Outside, distant laughter drifted in from another courtyard Madam Xu entertaining guests, already celebrating a wedding that had not yet happened.
Ji-Lie leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"If this poison goes into his cup, Xiaolan... there's no turning back. Even if you regret it halfway through."
She searched Xiaolan's face.
"Do you plan to kill him?"
Before an answer could come
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Lady Xiaolan. A message from the palace."
The door slid open just enough for a eunuch to step in, head bowed low.
He placed a sealed note on the table
Black paper.
No clan crest.
Only a dragon sigil burned faintly into the corner, white instead of gold.
The eunuch retreated without another word.
The room felt colder.
The seal was unbroken.
Xiaolan took the letter and opened it.
"My beloved bride."
That was all.
She turned the paper over. Blank. Only those words.
"Ji-Lie," Xiaolan asked quietly, "how long has it been since the prince was released and what has he been doing since then?"
The paper felt heavier than it should have.
Ji-Lie watched her expression carefully before answering.
"Two weeks."
She spoke immediately.
"It's been two weeks since Jian Wushuang was released from the Cold Palace."
At the unspoken question, her mouth twisted with disdain.
"And he's made sure the capital knows it."
She leaned back slightly.
"He's been frequenting brothels. A lot of them. High-end ones. Low-end ones. Anywhere loud enough to drown rumors."
A scoff.
"Drinking. Laughing. Letting himself be seen surrounded by courtesans."
She shook her head.
"The court thinks he's nothing more than a ruined, indulgent fool. A prince who broke in the Cold Palace and came out rotten."
Her eyes flicked to the letter in Xiaolan's hand.
**************************************************************************
Music spilled like honeyed poison.
Laughter, silk, perfume too much of everything. Lantern light painted the room in warm reds and golds, a stark contrast to the cold palace shadows that still clung to Jian Wushuang's bones.
He reclined lazily on a cushioned couch, one arm draped over the side, a cup of wine untouched in his hand.
Around him, courtesans laughed too brightly, their smiles and eyes measuring. One leaned close, fingers brushing his sleeve as if testing whether the disgraced prince was real or just another rumor.
Across the room, Lianju sat backwards on a chair, arms slung over the backrest, openly enjoying the spectacle.
He spoke with exaggerated ease.
"Ahhh, Your Highness. Freedom suits you."
He tipped back a cup and grinned.
"Ten years of cold walls, and now warm wine, warm company. Tragic really. How ever did you survive?"
Wushuang did not answer.
His gaze was unfocused, resting somewhere beyond the painted screens and drifting smoke. He played his part well lazy posture, indifferent air, a prince drowning himself in pleasure.
Exactly what they wanted to see.
A soft step approached.
One of the courtesans, slender, sharp-eyed beneath her painted lashes knelt close and leaned toward him as if whispering something intimate.
Her lips brushed his ear.
She spoke softly.
"Your Highness... the Xu daughter received your letter."
Just that.
Wushuang's fingers stilled on the wine cup.
Then.
A slow, unmistakable smirk curved his lips.
"Good."
The courtesan withdrew immediately, melting back into the crowd as if she had never been there.
Lianju caught the expression and snorted.
"Oh no."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice with mock horror.
"That look. That's the look you get when you've decided to keep something."
Wushuang finally took a sip of wine, his eyes glinting faintly in the lantern light.
"She read it."
"three words?"
A beat.
"Dangerous."
Lianju laughed, shaking his head.
"Careful, Your Highness. Next thing I know, you'll be falling in love with the Xu Clan's ice general."
He raised a brow, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
"What then? A few little brats running around the palace? Terrorizing the court?"
Wushuang let out a soft breath almost a laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous."
But his smirk did not fade.
He set the cup down untouched once more.
_7DAYS LATER:
The capital stood draped in red bridges, pillars, gates celebration forced upon stone that remembered too much blood.
The imperial royal carriage rolled through the palace gates escorted by armored guards in ceremonial gold. Bells chimed softly with every turn of the wheel, announcing not joy but inevitability.
Courtiers lined the steps of the Palace Temple, heads bowed, whispers curling like smoke.
At the top of the stairs stood Emperor Tian Zhu, robed in imperial black and gold, expression unreadable.
Beside him,
Jian Wushuang.
Dressed in crimson wedding robes embroidered with dark dragon motifs, he looked every inch the imperial prince the empire feared and despised.
A wine cup hung loosely in his hand.
His posture was relaxed too relaxed.
His cheeks held the faintest flush, eyes half-lidded as if dulled by drink. A lazy, almost cheerful smile curved his lips.
Those who knew him well would have felt uneasy.
But the court did not.
They saw only what he allowed.
The carriage doors opened.
Servants hurried forward, lowering the steps.
Xu Xiaolan descended hidden beneath layers of silk and a bridal veil, red and heavy, concealing her face completely.
Half a step behind her stood Ji-Lie.
A hush fell over the temple grounds.
Wushuang's gaze lifted.
For a moment, the smile on his face seemed to sharpen, bright, pleased, almost amused.
He took another slow sip of wine, then stepped forward without waiting to be prompted.
"So this is my bride."
His tone was light, pleasantly slurred.
He circled once, unhurried, as if inspecting a rare artifact.
Then he stopped in front of her.
Too close.
Close enough that the faint chill of ice brushed against heat that did not exist.
He tilted his head, smile widening.
"We're about to be married."
A soft chuckle followed.
"Surely I'm allowed to see my wife's face."
His hand lifted, slow, deliberate, reaching toward the edge of her veil.
Before his fingers could touch
Ji-Lie stepped forward sharply, fury breaking through her discipline.
"Your Highness!"
Her voice cut through the temple like drawn steel.
"This is bold and utterly disrespectful!"
The air went still.
Wushuang's hand froze mid-air.
His smile did not fade.
If anything
It deepened.
"Ji-Lie!!"
Xu Xiaolan cautioned sharply.
Ji-Lie stiffened instantly. She stepped back at once and bowed her head low.
"Apologies, Your Highness. My servant forgets her place sometimes."
Xu Xiaolan's voice was calm and soft beneath the veil.
"If His Highness wishes to see me..."
Her hands lifted.
Silk slid free.
The veil fell.
She had expected to gaze into the eyes of the monster the entire empire named him the traitor, wild, evil, dangerous, deranged surviving prince of the Jian clan.
Instead,
All she saw was ice.
The iciest shade of eyes, clear and sharp, threaded with faint flickers of purple buried deep within.
For a minute, the world went still.
What was this feeling?
Wushuang smiled.
Warmly.
He reached out and took her hand.
"Good."
Then he turned, voice lifting, bright and careless.
"Father!"
"You've given me a beautiful bride!"
A beat of stunned silence
Then laughter broke out among the officials.
"Indeed, Your Highness!"
"A most fitting match!"
"Heaven-blessed!"
They laughed, bowed, and nodded
Out of respect for the Emperor.
Out of fear of Jian Wushuang.
Emperor Tian Zhu watched from above, expression unreadable, fingers tightening imperceptibly within his sleeves.
The ceremony resumed.
Drums sounded.
Red silk fluttered.
And as Jian Wushuang's thumb brushed lightly against Xu Xiaolan's pulse
The feeling returned.
Unfamiliar.
Unwelcome.
Dangerous.
The empire had called him a monster.
But monsters did not look at her like this.
The emperor blessed them, and soon they were escorted back to the prince's mansion.
Xu Xiaolan stood alone in the prince's bedroom. No, the room that now belonged to her husband and her. The bridal veil was gone. Ji-Lie had withdrawn to excuse them for the wedding night, leaving the chamber eerily quiet.
The smile Xu Xiaolan had worn for the ceremony vanished, replaced by a cold, measured gaze.
The room was scantily empty for a prince's chamber. No indulgent luxury. No excess decoration. It was almost austere. Clearly, Jian Wushuang did not care for ornamentation.
A knock sounded.
The door opened.
And in walked the devil.
Jian Wushuang strode in with an easy confidence, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. Was he drunk? The thought made Xu Xiaolan's brow crease with irritation. She turned her face away, fingers moving briskly as she removed her wedding jewelry, metal clinking softly as each piece was set aside.
She spoke without looking at him.
"Let me be clear, Your Highness. I have no intention of proceeding with the wedding night with you."
The room fell quiet.
Too quiet for a wedding chamber.
No garish decorations. No excessive red silk. No perfumed candles meant to intoxicate the senses. Just clean lines, dark wood, and a faint scent of incense. subtle, restrained.
Very him.
The door closed softly behind Jian Wushuang as he entered fully.
He walked in with an easy stride, sleeves loose, posture relaxed. The faint flush on his face and the lazy curve of his smile still clung to him convincing enough to fool anyone who did not know better.
Xu Xiaolan kept her back to him, fingers stilling only briefly on the last clasp.
Silence followed her words.
Then,
Jian Wushuang stopped.
He looked at her for a long moment. Not just at her figure, but at the tension in her shoulders, the rigid control in her posture, the cold resolve beneath her calm.
He nodded.
"Alright."
No argument.
No mockery.
No anger.
He turned away without hesitation and walked toward the far side of the room.
Pausing, he glanced back over his shoulder. The drunken haze in his eyes thinned, just slightly.
The room grew still again.
Xu Xiaolan frowned as she watched him take a bedspread and lay it neatly on the ground. Then he looked straight at her, expression suddenly serious.
"What?" she asked.
He pointed to the floor.
"You want me to lie down there??"
She blinked.
He nodded.
"That's my bed. Move!" he said in a lazy tone.
The words landed like an insult wrapped in silk.
"Bold!!!!"
Xu Xiaolan stood sharply, the bed scraping loudly against the floor as cold air surged outward with her rising temper.
Wushuang did not flinch.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking briefly to the bed then back to her.
"You said you didn't want a wedding night."
A shrug followed.
"I didn't say I was giving up my bed."
His gaze sharpened just a fraction.
"Princess Consort, I survived ten years on stone floors colder than this."
A faint, dangerous curve touched his lips.
"You, however, don't look like you'd last the night."
The room went very still.
Two newlyweds.
One bed.
And neither willing to yield an inch.
"You..... !!"
Xu Xiaolan pointed straight at him, eyes flashing.
"No way. You sleep on the floor. It's better than letting you get your perverted hands on me."
She turned sharply and sat back down on the bed with finality, posture rigid, daring him to argue.
For a moment, Jian Wushuang simply looked at her.
Then
He sighed.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Just... tired.
"Wife."
The single word only made things worse.
He walked over calmly, picked up one pillow from the side, then another. He paused, considered, then grabbed a third for good measure.
Xu Xiaolan watched him suspiciously as he climbed onto the bed anyway.
"Hey..... !"
He laid one pillow down lengthwise between them.
A firm, unmistakable barrier.
Then he placed another on his side, sat down, and leaned back casually.
"There."
He gestured at the invisible line.
"Border established."
He glanced at her again.
"Beloved."
Xu Xiaolan's eye twitched.
He adjusted the pillow slightly, making sure it was perfectly straight.
"If I cross it, you're free to stab me, freeze me, make a snack out of my body."
A beat.
"In that order, preferably."
He lay down fully, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling as though this were the most reasonable solution in the world.
"Now sleep. Tomorrow the entire court will try to decide whether we hate or adore each other."
He cast her a sideways glance, faint amusement returning.
"I'd hate for them to think we didn't even survive our first night."
The bed suddenly felt smaller.
And the pillow wall.
Insultingly solid
Not at all what Xu Xiaolan had expected.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Xu Xiaolan turned her back to him sharply, silk rustling as she faced the far side of the bed.
"Do not cross the line," she warned coldly.
"Or I will turn you into an ice sculpture."
A soft snort escaped him.
"Mm. Duly noted, wife."
He shifted slightly but only to tug the pillow barrier straighter, patting it once as if reassuring it.
"I'm very attached to my limbs."
A pause followed.
Then, in a tone far too relaxed for someone being threatened with cryogenic murder
"Besides, if you freeze me solid on our first night, the court will assume I failed as a husband."
He turned onto his side, back to her, deliberately keeping a respectable distance from the pillow line.
"That would wound my reputation deeply."
The lantern flickered.
Just before sleep threatened to claim the room, his voice drifted out, quieter now, almost thoughtful.
"Good night, beloved."
No mockery.
No edge.
Just two enemies sharing a bed divided by pillows, threats, and far too many secrets.
For now.