The war had raged for years, its consequences stretching far beyond the battlefield. Both sides were weary, but neither willing to yield. But in the midst of endless bloodshed, the Emperor made a decision that would forever alter the course of Yan Jiangri's and Lin Shaungwei's lives—one that would bind them together, not by love, but by the cold hands of political necessity.
It was a decree, delivered with the weight of absolute authority: the war was to be paused. But this was no peace treaty or truce. The Empire's orders were clear—Yan Jiangri and Lin Shaungwei were to marry. It was not a union forged from affection, but one dictated by strategy, a power play meant to consolidate the Empire's influence and strengthen their hold over the war.
Yan Jiangri's heart sank when she first heard the news. A forced marriage—one that was neither of her choosing nor her desire. She had already faced betrayal from Lin Shaungwei, the man she once believed in. Now, the very man who had torn her heart apart was to become her husband, bound by the Emperor's command.
There was no room for resistance. The Emperor's will was law, and defying it was unthinkable. The marriage was to be a tool—an instrument of control, a way to secure the Empire's dominance and control over both the Yan Kingdom and Lin Shaungwei's growing power. But it wasn't just a union between two people; it was the intertwining of kingdoms, of empires, of fates.
Yan Jiangri had no choice but to comply. The future of her people, her kingdom, was on the line. To refuse would mean the unraveling of everything she had worked for, everything she had fought to protect. It was the price of survival.
The day of the wedding arrived, and Yan Jiangri stood before the Emperor, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She wore the ceremonial robes, the weight of the gold stitching around her shoulders a stark reminder of her duty. Lin Shaungwei stood beside her, his expression as unreadable as ever. The grand hall was filled with courtiers, military leaders, and nobles—all watching, all waiting, as the two were bound in a union that neither of them wanted.
The ceremony was a display of imperial power. It was a political show, a performance for the public eye, not a celebration of love. The vows exchanged were not promises of affection or devotion, but declarations of duty and allegiance. The Emperor's gaze never wavered, his presence heavy with authority. The courtiers whispered amongst themselves, eager to witness the next chapter in the ever-unfolding drama of the Empire.
When the moment came for them to exchange vows, there was no passion, no warmth. Just words, carefully spoken and cold as steel.
"Do you, Lin Shaungwei, take this woman, Yan Jiangri, as your wife, to rule together, for the good of the Empire and the Kingdoms?"
"I do," Lin replied, his voice steady, devoid of emotion.
"Do you, Yan Jiangri, take this man, Lin Shaungwei, as your husband, to rule together, for the good of the Empire and the Kingdoms?"
"I do," Yan Jiangri responded, her voice betraying nothing, her heart a battleground of resentment and confusion.
The kiss that followed was nothing more than a formal gesture, a formality that sealed the political pact, not the beginning of any true union. The crowd erupted in applause, but neither Lin nor Yan Jiangri felt the joy they were expected to show. They were both prisoners of circumstance, their fates bound by forces far beyond their control.
As they exited the grand hall, their hands still bound together by the ceremonial ribbons, the reality of the situation began to set in. They were married—by law, by order of the Emperor—but the bond between them was nothing more than a fragile façade, a thin veneer of unity masking the truth beneath.
Lin turned to her, his eyes searching her face, but there was no warmth in his gaze. "This marriage changes nothing," he said, his voice low and sharp. "We will continue our roles—nothing more, nothing less. The war, the power struggle—it all remains the same."
Yan Jiangri met his gaze with a coolness that matched his. "Don't flatter yourself, Lin. This marriage doesn't make you my ally. It makes us both pawns in the Emperor's game."
Lin's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Perhaps. But we both know that in this game, the pawns can sometimes become kings."
Yan Jiangri didn't reply. She had no desire to engage with him, not now, not ever. Her mind was elsewhere, her heart still broken, her thoughts consumed by the weight of the Empire's command. The Kingdom needed stability, and this marriage—though forced—was meant to bring that. But stability could not be built on lies, and she knew that.
In the following days, they lived in the same palace, but their interactions were minimal. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was one of silent hostility and mutual understanding. They were both prisoners, bound by duty and the Emperor's will, and neither was willing to yield to the other.
Lin continued his military strategies, plotting the next phase of the war, while Yan Jiangri focused on her people, maintaining a delicate balance between loyalty to her kingdom and the Empire's expectations. The marriage had brought a temporary halt to the fighting, but it had also set the stage for a new kind of war—one fought in the court, in the shadows, and within their own hearts.
One night, as the palace lay shrouded in the quiet of the evening, Yan Jiangri stood on the balcony, staring out at the distant horizon. The stars seemed so far away, just like the peace she longed for. Her kingdom was in the Empire's grasp, and her marriage to Lin Shaungwei was the last nail in the coffin. But she refused to believe that all hope was lost.
Lin approached her quietly, standing beside her without a word. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Finally, it was Lin who broke the silence.
"Do you ever think we might find a way out of this?" he asked, his voice softer than she expected.
Yan Jiangri turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. "Out of what? This marriage? The war? The Empire?"
"All of it," he said. "We may be bound by the Emperor's will, but we are not powerless. If we work together…"
"Together?" she interrupted, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "You betrayed me once, Lin. You destroyed everything I believed in. What makes you think I would ever trust you again?"
Lin's expression hardened, the walls he had carefully built around himself coming back into place. "Because, Jiangri, I'm still the only one who can help you. And you're still the only one who can help me."
Yan Jiangri stared at him for a long moment, her chest tight with a thousand emotions. She didn't know what to say, didn't know what to believe. But one thing was clear—whatever future awaited them, it wouldn't be one of peace or love. It would be a war fought within the confines of this forced marriage, one where duty, betrayal, and power played their parts, and where the question of who would ultimately control their fate remained uncertain.
As the night deepened, the two of them stood there, side by side, knowing that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. The Empire's plan had succeeded in temporarily halting the war, but it had also set in motion a much darker, more personal battle—one neither of them could escape.