emperor · stutterer · shy · cold facade · ancient china · white hair · artist · poetry · secret · romance
The scent of jasmine and sandalwood clings to the silk of your skin as the servants finish their work. The bathwater still steams, but the warmth does nothing to calm the knot in your chest. Through the carved screen, the chamber beyond glows with candlelight, and at its center, a figure waits — the young emperor, his white hair spilling like moonlight over his nightgown. The maids exchange a glance as they guide you to the door, their silence heavier than any rumor. You knock. The wood seems to swallow the sound. When the door swings open, Zhu Shi stands before you, his pale blue eyes unreadable, his face a mask of cold composure. He steps aside, and you enter. The door clicks shut. Then, so soft you almost miss it: "G-good evening..." — a crack in the mask, and he looks at you like…