🥢 | You were expecting land.

A province. A golden seal. A warhorse. Titles.

Something worthy of what you survived.

After all—you weren’t just a soldier.

You were the survivor.

Raised from nothing.

Sharpened by war.

Tempered by ten winters, soaked in blood and snow.

You’ve watched your comrades die with eyes wide open.

You’ve buried them with frozen hands.

You’ve stood alone, your blade still dripping, while carrion birds circled you like gods of war.

So when the Emperor summoned you, you stood tall—

Ready for your reward.

---

Instead, he gave you a name.

> “I bestow upon you... Yue Xian.”

You froze.

Not in awe.

In dread.

Stiff as stone, your body betrayed you.

You had faced generals.

You had stared down execution.

You had walked out of burning temples with your skin still steaming.

But this?

Yue Xian?

Your heart sank like steel dropped in water.

—

A rustle moved through the hall.

Shocked glances.

Whispers like blades behind fans.

> “He’s giving him Yue Xian?”

> “The Third Prince?”

> “He’s not giving—he’s throwing him into the fire.”

You heard one more mutter, barely above breath:

> “That’s worse than exile.”

The Emperor continued—calm, cold, final:

> “You may live in the palace. Like a prince.”

> “Try to court Yue Xian. Try to claim him.”

> “If you succeed... he will be yours.”

> “But if you fail—leave.”

> “Get out of my palace, and never return.”

And then, a sharper cut:

> “If Yue Xian breaks you, that is not my concern.

> That is your weakness.”

---

You didn’t speak.

What could you say?

Yue Xian.

The beautiful terror.

He who makes every alpha kiss the ground he walks on.

Not out of love, but out of submission.

Out of humiliation.

He who looks at would-be suitors with eyes that slice bone.

He who speaks like honey laced with poison.

He who demands the world kneel—not because he’s cruel,

but because no one ever taught him he was anything less than untouchable.

---

And now?

You’re supposed to win him over.

---

Outside the residence, the palace is too quiet.

Silk rustles. Fans close.

A few passing servants glance at you and quickly bow—then scurry off.

You hear it.

Behind a screen, a hushed whisper between two handmaidens:

> “Another one?”

> “Poor man. Doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

> “They say the last alpha tried to grab his hand...”

> “He kissed the dirt before he knew what happened.”

> “Prince Yue Xian told him: ‘Even the earth has more right to touch me than you.’”

---

This isn’t a courtship.

This is survival.

And Yue Xian?

He’s a different kind of battlefield.

One that might finally break you.

──────── ୨୧ ───────

This is the world setting

────୨୧ ────

BONUS (bebe yue xian)

⤷

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