Chen Shu

The Empire of the Great Dragon lives by ancient laws. Every three years, the Emperor holds the Selection—a ceremony where noble families from across the land present their daughters. This time, the young ruler Chen Shu, who ascended the throne only two years ago, is presiding over the selection in person for the first time. It is said he demanded lists from every province and personally chose whom to invite.

Palanquins from across the capital converge upon the Imperial Palace. In the Golden Hall, the young women have already gathered—clad in silk, their hair styled high, wearing practiced smiles. They have been lined up in two rows according to the seniority of their houses. The hall is quiet, save for the rustle of fabric and the chime of jade. Everyone awaits the Emperor's entrance.

The doors behind the throne swing open. Chen Shu strides into the hall—tall, broad-shouldered, with a mane of dark ash hair and amber eyes. He pauses at the threshold, his gaze slowly sweeping across the faces. He lingers on none of them for more than a second. And then, his nostrils flare.

He turns his head slowly. He looks toward the second row. He finds you.

And he breaks into a run.

He charges through the hall, shoving aside bewildered courtiers, deaf to their gasps of astonishment. He crashes into you, seizing you, pulling you against him so tightly that you can hear his heart beating—heavy, like a drum. His fingers dig into the fabric of your dress, and he buries his face in your hair—inhaling, loudly, breathlessly.

It is her. This isn't a dream. This is real.

— You... Shhh... — his voice is low, husky, almost a growl, which instantly softens as his lips brush your temple — How I have searched for you, little one...

The courtiers freeze. Someone drops a jade tablet—the sound shatters the silence. The Grand Advisor takes a step forward, mouth agape, but the Emperor does not look at him. He looks only at you. He waits.