Beneath the Imperial City

Satisfied, she watched as Lance’s face shifted from red to ashen, the pent-up resentment in her heart finally dissipated. With a triumphant flourish, she flaunted her victory in his direction. Lance’s expression only grew darker; if such a gloomy cloud had hung in the sky, it would surely have brought about a torrential downpour without any need for dry ice.

Lance forcibly suppressed the surging anger within him, a sensation so unfamiliar that he realized it had been ages since emotions like these had taken hold of him. Still, he neither wished for nor would allow such feelings to trouble him for long.

There are, after all, only two ways to manage one’s emotions: either possess a mind cool and strong enough to dispel them directly, or vent them, whether openly or by some indirect means.

With self-discipline out of reach, Lance’s natural outlet became the very culprit who stood before him, grinning with insufferable pride.

As the music swelled, their movements grew ever swifter. Already flagging, she—her breath constricted by a merciless corset—could only gasp for air, desperate for oxygen to fuel her spinning steps. Yet her partner seemed oblivious, unbothered by her plight, and instead danced with ever more vigor, quickening the pace. Forced to keep up, she had no choice but to match his speed. The powder that the maids had so carefully applied masked any trace of sweat or exertion. To the watching guests, she appeared only coyly flushed, her cheeks aglow, her body drawing ever closer to Lance’s in bashful intimacy.

The truth was, though, she was growing lightheaded from lack of air. Her legs felt weak and unresponsive, her mind threatening to shut down in protest. Only sheer instinct and a stubborn refusal to collapse from disgrace kept her spinning in place.

But acting on instinct is always a recipe for mishap. The habits she’d cultivated over four years of college (technically, only three of those years had included PE) couldn’t be undone in a single night by Lance. So, as fate would have it, she and Lance unwittingly made the same mistake—they both flung their partners away at precisely the same moment.

Ahem. As the ensuing scene is simply too tragic to recount in detail, the author will spare you the particulars. Suffice it to say that her adventure at Qilin Gorge began in a chaotic melee and ended with her head colliding with a pillar. All in all, it was a journey marked by success, innovation, and no small amount of meaning.

The rest of the journey followed a similar pattern. After surviving the various bizarre and unexpected trials of Qilin Gorge, she and Lance had grown familiar with each other's sore spots and charms, their coordination and adaptability as cultural ambassadors improving with every step. The receptions in each city were much the same: greetings, introductions, welcome banquets—meal after meal until she felt her corset cinching ever tighter.

Lately, Lance’s wicked amusement had shifted from teasing her about her dancing to making sly remarks about the flesh at her waist, clicking his tongue and quipping, “At this rate, you’ll be fattened up enough for slaughter.”

She tried, in vain, to slim down, but with increased exercise her metabolism only quickened, her body greedily absorbing every nutrient. After days of exertion, the only visible change was a slight reduction in her waistline, while her arms and calves seemed to grow sturdier by the day.

So, in this cycle of teasing and counter-teasing, the two of them unwittingly made their way to the gates of the White Tower Kingdom’s imperial city, their clothing having grown steadily heavier against the encroaching cold.

The imperial city was properly called Silver City, situated in the north of the Starfall Continent. Winters were harsh, summers warm, and the snow often blanketed the streets for at least a month, with frost a frequent visitor. From afar, the city seemed sculpted from pure silver, hence its name.

Her first steps into this city were filled with awe. Unlike the decentralized system of Cyrenia, the White Tower Kingdom was a classic autocracy, and Silver City had stood as its power center for generations. Every building exuded a lofty, timeworn grandeur, each solitary, towering structure seeming to conceal the ancient tales of rise and fall, victory and defeat, life and death. The sturdy, imposing city walls guarded the city with unwavering vigilance; the grayish-blue bricks bore the scars of countless winters, every crack and chip a testament to history.

To greet them was none other than the prime minister of the White Tower Kingdom—the very man whose attempt to flirt with Huanluo had ended, disastrously, in his own son’s demise. (One hopes some still remember that poor, unfortunate child… Amen.)

The prime minister greeted Lance and herself with formal courtesy, and they responded in kind. Names were exchanged, acquaintances made, and soon they found themselves, somewhat awkwardly, following Lord Leon on yet another predictable city tour.

Her own position as both witness and accomplice to Leon’s son’s death was awkward enough; to make matters worse, this resourceful Leon had somehow learned of the supposed romance between her and Lance, and proceeded to lead them through a series of rather risqué locales. The tension mounted until she had no choice but to reprise her earlier act as a flustered maiden overwhelmed by affairs of the heart, thus extricating them from the mortifying tour just in time.

Leon, understanding, didn’t press the matter. Seeing her nearly clinging to Lance’s side, he nodded as if struck by sudden insight, and promptly sent them back to their temporary lodgings.

This residence, unlike the one at Qilin Gorge, was an entirely different sort of place. Though also built of stone, the grand estate in Silver City bore no resemblance to the modest courtyard of Qilin Gorge. True to the city’s tradition, the mansion was imposing and ostentatious: deep corridors, lofty beams, and door sills so high she had to lift her feet deliberately just to cross the threshold. She felt as though she’d stumbled into the set of some strange, epic film.

Yet the two homes did share one feature—they each contained only a single bedroom.

Indeed, upon entering, she found that the ground floor consisted of a spacious hall with kitchen, restroom, dining area, bath, parlor, and a large garden. Upstairs were the entertainment rooms, study, indoor training area, and, crucially, the one and only bedroom.

She gazed at the enormous bed stretching across the sole bedroom and nearly wept. Apart from Qilin Gorge, every other temporary residence along the way had provided separate rooms, and she’d thought the awkwardness of sharing a bed had been quietly dismissed. But here, at this most critical moment—when rest was so desperately needed—the nightmare returned.

She did not want, in this freezing place, to take turns sleeping on the floor with Lance!