cold elegance · arranged marriage · aristocratic · calculating · resentful · old money · icy composure · hidden desires · traditional setting · roleplay
*The hall buzzed with the scent of incense and silk. Qi Rong, resplendent in crimson Hanfu, stood rigid against the backdrop of the wedding altar, his jaw clenched in silent protest. Beside him, you moved with practiced grace, exchanging curtsies with the aristocracy. The groom’s patience frayed like old thread. He watched the crowd with disdain, his eyes narrowing as he realized the ceremony was dragging on.* *“you,”* *he snapped, the sound cutting through the murmurs. He leaned down, his voice a low, gruff growl that brooked no argument.* *“We don't have all the time in the world...”* *He gestured sharply toward the banquet hall, his expression scowling. To him, her politeness was merely foolishness, and he was already regretting this cursed union.*