The grand double doors creaked open as Xiaohua stepped into the receiving hall. Her breath caught in her throat. General Wang stood at the far end, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the polished marble floor. The sunlight streaming through the lattice windows seemed to shy away from him, leaving his sharp features in partial shadow.
General Wang was a man of towering stature, broad-shouldered and solidly built, exuding the aura of someone accustomed to commanding armies. His angular face bore the hardened lines of a man who had lived through countless battles. A thin scar ran diagonally from his left cheekbone to just above his jawline, giving him an even more intimidating presence. His sharp, deep-set eyes were as dark as onyx, devoid of warmth and emotion. His slicked-back hair, streaked with silver, seemed to gleam like steel under the faint light. Everything about him—from his black-and-red robes embroidered with the insignia of the imperial army to the way he stood like a statue carved from stone—spoke of dominance and power.
His eyes—cold, calculating, and unyielding—fixed on her the moment she entered. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the weight of his gaze and the sound of her own shallow breathing.
"Ah, Lady Xiaohua," General Wang said, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. "You've grown even more radiant since our last meeting."
Xiaohua inclined her head in a graceful bow, her silk skirts swishing softly around her feet. "General Wang," she replied, her voice steady despite the storm brewing in her chest. "You honor our family with your presence."
He took a deliberate step closer, and Xiaohua instinctively straightened, determined not to betray her unease. "You're too kind," he said, though his tone lacked warmth. "I trust your preparations for our union are progressing smoothly."
Her lips parted to respond, but her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The word union felt foreign and suffocating. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as every fiber of her being urged her to look away.
"Yes, General," she said softly, "everything is as you instructed."
He studied her intently, his sharp gaze roaming over her features, as if searching for any sign of defiance. "Good," he said finally, his tone clipped. "I expect nothing less from my future wife. Obedience and grace are virtues befitting your station."
Xiaohua's stomach churned at his words, but she kept her expression serene, hiding the storm raging within. "Of course, General," she murmured, lowering her eyes briefly to mask her discomfort.
"Tell me," he continued, stepping even closer, his boots echoing ominously against the marble floor, "have you given thought to the duties that will fall upon your shoulders once you become my wife?"
Her throat tightened. "I understand the responsibilities that come with this union," she replied, her voice steady but quiet. "I will strive to fulfill them to the best of my ability."
The corners of his mouth lifted in what could only loosely be described as a smile. It was a cold, detached expression, devoid of joy. "Strive?" he repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. "There is no room for striving, Lady Xiaohua. Only perfection will suffice."
Her hands, hidden within the folds of her robe, clenched into fists. "I will not fail you," she said, forcing conviction into her tone.
"I trust you won't," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because failure would not only dishonor me but your family as well. And I would hate to see the Lin name tarnished."
His words sent a chill down her spine. Was that a warning? A threat? She struggled to maintain her composure, her mind racing to decode the layers of his meaning.
General Wang's sharp gaze lingered on Xiaohua's face, his eyes glinting with predatory intent as though savoring her discomfort. He took another deliberate step forward, his imposing frame casting a shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly in the flickering candlelight.
"You are truly exquisite," he said, his voice low and smooth, yet brimming with authority. Slowly, he raised a hand toward her, fingers reaching as though to claim what was already his.
Xiaohua stiffened, instinct pulling her back a step, the soft rustle of her robes betraying her. Her pulse quickened, and she clenched her hands tightly at her sides, forcing herself to remain calm despite the cold tendrils of unease crawling up her spine.
General Wang's mouth curled into a slow, malicious smile as he let his hand fall. A low, mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "Such a skittish little thing," he murmured, mockery dripping from his tone. "Are you so easily frightened by your future husband's touch?"
He advanced another step, his eyes narrowing. "You will learn, Lady Xiaohua, that hesitation does not suit you. As my wife, you will have no need for such childish modesty."
Xiaohua swallowed hard, bowing her head slightly in an effort to mask the fury simmering within her. "Forgive me, General Wang," she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I did not mean to offend you."
"Offend me?" He chuckled darkly, the sound cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. "No, you have not offended me. But you will soon understand that submission and obedience are virtues I expect—and demand—from my wife."
Xiaohua forced herself to remain still as he reached for her wrist this time, his touch light yet suffused with dominance. His fingers brushed against her skin, his touch cold and unwelcome, yet she did not recoil. She could not. The weight of duty pressed heavily on her, and she knew that any misstep could bring consequences far worse than her disgust.
"There," he said softly, his voice laced with false kindness. "Is that so difficult?"
Her stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral. "No, General," she replied quietly, her voice devoid of emotion.
The smug glint in his eyes deepened, and before she could prepare herself, he leaned in closer. His lips brushed her cheek briefly—a gesture meant to assert power rather than affection. Xiaohua fought the urge to flinch, her breath catching as a wave of revulsion swept through her.
"You will grow accustomed to this," he said, his tone eerily calm as he straightened. "And to much more."
Her hands trembled imperceptibly at her sides, but she clenched them tighter, willing herself to endure the moment. Her father's words echoed in her mind like a cruel reminder: This is your duty.
General Wang finally took a step back, his satisfaction evident. "You may leave now, Lady Xiaohua. Remember your place—and remember who holds your future."
Xiaohua bowed deeply, murmuring, "Yes, General," before retreating with measured steps. Each step away from him felt like a struggle against her own composure, her back rigid until she was safely past the door.
Only when she was alone in the dim corridor did she exhale shakily, her fingers brushing her cheek where his lips had been. Her skin burned, not from warmth but from humiliation. She pressed her palm to her chest, fighting to steady her breathing, though her mind raced with thoughts of anger and helplessness.
This was her reality—a cage of obligations, a chain of expectations. And as she stood there in the dim light, she knew one thing: she would not submit easily, no matter how tightly those chains bound her.
Xiaohua's steps were unsteady as she left the hall, her thoughts swirling in a storm of emotions she struggled to suppress. The echo of General Wang's voice—his mocking laughter, his possessive touch—still reverberated in her mind, and the weight of his words bore down on her chest.
Turning a corner, she nearly collided with Jingwei, who was bounding through the corridor with his usual carefree energy. He stopped abruptly, his jade-green eyes narrowing as he studied her face.
"Xiaohua, are you all right?" he asked, his youthful voice tinged with concern.
She forced a smile, reaching out to smooth his hair as if to reassure him. "I'm fine, Jingwei," she said softly, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. "It's been a long day, that's all."
Jingwei frowned, unconvinced. "You look upset. Did Father—"
"No," she interrupted gently, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "Nothing to worry about. Now, go to bed. You need your rest."
He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "If you say so. Goodnight, Sister."
"Goodnight," she murmured, watching him disappear down the corridor before continuing to her room.
The moment she stepped inside, the familiar space felt suffocating, as though even the walls were conspiring to remind her of her helplessness. Her maids immediately moved to assist her, but she raised a hand to stop them.
"Leave me," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
They hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, but eventually bowed and filed out silently. The door closed behind them, and Xiaohua was finally alone.
She crossed the room and sank onto her bed, the tension in her shoulders refusing to ease. The events of the evening replayed in her mind—the way General Wang's lips had brushed her cheek, the cold touch of his fingers on her wrist. She shuddered, clutching the edge of her blanket as though it could shield her from the memory.
But no matter how tightly she closed her eyes, sleep eluded her. The oppressive silence of the night was broken only by the faint hum of voices outside her door.
"I'm glad General Wang has finally left," one of the maids whispered.
"Me too," another replied. "His presence makes my skin crawl."
Xiaohua's eyes snapped open, the words a salve to her frayed nerves. He's gone. Relief coursed through her like a soothing balm, washing away some of the tension that had gripped her all evening.
She exhaled deeply, letting her body relax against the mattress. The maids' gossip faded into the background as her eyes fluttered shut once more. This time, the weight of exhaustion pulled her under, and she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep—a fleeting reprieve from the chains of duty that awaited her come morning.