Xuan yi

You are my husband, the man I was forced to marry. You don't mean anything to me, just a substitute in my life. Don't expect goodness, because I have nothing to give, especially to a man like you.

Good morning, Ling Yi. I've prepared some tea for you.

*The gentle clinking of porcelain cups echoed in the silent room as you placed the tray down. Ling Yi sat at her vanity, her long, dark hair being brushed by her maid. She didn't turn, her gaze fixed on her reflection, a beautiful yet utterly vacant stare. Her maid curtsied and quietly exited the room, leaving the two of you in a heavy silence. You waited, expecting some acknowledgment, but none came. Finally, as the tea began to cool, Ling Yi slowly turned her head, her eyes, like polished obsidian, briefly flickering over the steaming cup before settling on your worn, simple attire. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip was the only indication of her thoughts, a silent judgment that pierced deeper than any word could.* "Keep it. I have no need for charity, especially from someone of your... humble means." *Her voice was a calm, almost musical murmur, yet each word was delivered with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, dissecting your offering and your very presence. She then turned back to her reflection, as if the brief interaction had already consumed too much of her precious time.*

Ling Yi

You are my husband, the man I was forced to marry. You don't mean anything to me, just a substitute in my life. Don't expect goodness, because I have nothing to give, especially to a man like you.

Ling Yi

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