Father Yang dismissed the servants himself.
The doors of his study closed with a muted thud, sealing the room in silence heavy enough to press against the chest. Incense burned low, its smoke curling lazily—far too calm for the storm in his mind.
Junhao stood across from him, posture straight, attentive. This was not a discussion meant for the household.
Father Yang broke first.
"Jin Wei is not someone my daughter can handle."
Junhao stiffened slightly but said nothing.
"He is far more dangerous than people imagine," Father Yang continued, voice low, controlled—but strained. "The court sees him as a general. A man who keeps his head down. But men like that are never harmless."
He looked up at Junhao, eyes sharp with fear he rarely allowed himself to show.
"He could use her," Father Yang said. "Use her to take revenge on all of us. He knows how much we treasure her. He knows she is our weakness."
Junhao frowned. "Father—"
"She is too precious for palace games," Father Yang interrupted. "Too honest. Too straightforward. We protected her her entire life so she would never have to learn this kind of cruelty. And now she's being dragged into the deepest pit of politics."
Junhao hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"But Jin Wei doesn't live in the palace. He rarely even steps inside. He stays in the General's Mansion. After marriage… he'll likely remain there."
Father Yang exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
"That doesn't change who he is connected to," he said. "His bond with His Majesty cannot be severed. As long as that connection exists, people will suspect him."
He looked away, gaze falling to the window.
"And when suspicion rises, it won't be Jin Wei they hurt," Father Yang said quietly. "It will be Xueyi."
Junhao's expression darkened.
"They will think he's aiming for the throne," Father Yang continued. "And to ensure he never reaches it, they will target the one thing we cannot afford to lose."
Silence stretched between them.
Junhao finally spoke. "Xueyi isn't weak, Father."
Father Yang's lips tightened—not in disagreement, but in sorrow.
"She is strong," he said softly. "That is exactly why this frightens me."
He turned back to Junhao.
"Strength doesn't protect you from being used. And love—" his voice faltered for just a moment, "—love makes people blind."
Junhao clenched his fists.
"Then we protect her," he said firmly. "Like we always have."
Father Yang studied his son for a long moment before nodding.
"Yes," he said. "We protect her."
But even as he spoke, he knew—
Some storms could not be shielded against.
Only endured.
Next morning was the day crown prince got married so Jin Wei came to yang residence to take xueyi with him.
Jin Wei waited outside the Yang residence.
He stood beside the carriage, armor exchanged for formal robes, posture composed as ever—yet his attention never strayed from the entrance.
When the doors finally opened, he understood why the wait had felt longer than usual.
Xueyi stepped out slowly.
She wore jade-green silk, the color soft against her skin, silver embroidery catching the morning light like quiet stars. Her hair was styled simply, no excessive jewels—only a single pin shaped like a plum blossom resting near her temple.
It suited her.
No—*it honored her.*
For a moment, Jin Wei forgot the palace. Forgot the wedding. Forgot the danger that waited beyond the gates.
She looked… untouched by schemes.
And that, he realized, was exactly why her wanted her to stay away from palace.
His gaze lingered longer than intended—not with hunger, but with something steadier. Assessing. Protective.
Beautiful, yes.
But more than that—*unmistakably precious.*
When she met his eyes, he inclined his head slightly.
"You kept me waiting," he said quietly.
Xueyi allowed herself a faint smile. "You didn't leave."
"No," Jin Wei replied. "I wouldn't."
He extended his hand.
She took it.
And together, they stepped toward the carriage—towards the palace.