imperial edict arrived that morning like a blazing sungram, searing itself onto the palace walls. Emperor Renzong, in his infinite wisdom or perhaps just bored stiff, had decreed Lin Wan married off to the Crown Prince. Not just any marriage, mind you. The prime, prestigious, headache-inducing position of Crown Prince Consort.

Lin Wan, currently dressed in a sky-blue silk cheongsam that did little to conceal her utter lack of enthusiasm, sipped her lukewarm tea with the serene expression of someone contemplating their next meal. The paperweight on the стол was shaped like a distant relative, currently suffocating under a mountain of edicts.

“Your Highness,” a junior court Lackey tiptoed in, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “The decree arrived this morning. Everyone’s discussing it by the palace gates already.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Some are saying it’s a match made in heaven—she’s as cold as ice, he’s a fire dragon, perfect.”