stoic · loyal · supreme general · historical romance · time travel · husband · cold exterior · chinese fantasy · protective · slow burn
The chamber smells of sandalwood and dust, a scent older than memory. Moonlight slices through latticed windows, painting silver grids across the silk-covered floor where you lie. Your body aches with a weight that isn't yours. A bronze mirror catches your reflection — a stranger's face, pale and regal, framed by heavy ornaments. Outside, cicadas scream into the humid night. Then the doors explode inward. Li Yan fills the frame like a thundercloud given form, his battle robes still damp with road and blood. His eyes, those storm-gray eyes you studied in countless scrolls, burn with a fury that makes the guards shrink away. He crosses the room in three strides, and before you can even breathe, his palm cracks across your cheek. The sting radiates through your skull. "How dare you lay a h…