Veil of Crimson Lotus

The winter of Wei Zhaoyun’s seventeenth year arrived in waves of biting winds and frozen earth. The cold was merciless, but he had long since learned not to shiver. Survival had taught him resilience, and the rigorous training of the Imperial Guard had hardened his body beyond the frailty of common men. Yet, for all the years of preparation, he remained oblivious to the path fate had carved for him.

It was during a morning drill, beneath the towering pines of the imperial courtyard, that the first ripple of his future was felt. Zhaoyun stood among other recruits, his breath steady despite the punishing routine. His instructor, General Han Li, surveyed them with the dispassionate eyes of a seasoned warrior.

“You lot think you are strong,” the general’s voice boomed, causing a few of the recruits to flinch. “But strength is not enough. A soldier fights, but a guardian endures.”

Zhaoyun did not understand the meaning of those words yet. But he would soon.

The palace was a world unto itself. Even as a low-ranked soldier, Zhaoyun had heard whispers of its splendor—jewel-encrusted pillars, golden lanterns that never dimmed, courtyards large enough to house entire villages. Yet, none of that prepared him for the day he was summoned within the inner gates.

A commander, clad in ornate armor with a deep crimson cloak, strode toward him. “Wei Zhaoyun, you are to accompany me.”

No explanation. No warning. He followed.

Through the lacquered halls of the palace, past courtiers who barely spared him a glance, he walked into the unknown. They reached a garden shrouded in pale mist, where a woman dressed in white silk stood beneath a weeping willow. She was young, no older than he, and yet she carried herself with the grace of someone who knew she commanded the world.

“This is Her Majesty, Princess Lian Yuhua.”

Zhaoyun dropped to one knee instantly. He had never been this close to royalty before. He felt a strange sensation—was it awe, or something deeper?

“She will be Queen before the year ends,” the commander continued. “And you, Wei Zhaoyun, will be her shadow.”

Shock rooted him to the ground. A guard to the queen? Him?

Princess Lian Yuhua gaze swept over him like a blade. “Stand up,” she said.

He obeyed, meeting her eyes for the first time.

“I do not need a shadow,” she said, voice laced with quiet defiance. “But I suppose you will be different.”

Zhaoyun did not know if that was an insult or a promise. But as the weight of his new duty settled upon him, he realized one thing—his life was no longer his own.

It belonged to the Queen.