Chapter 1: Our Lives

  Jinlun City, the heart of the Ruhong region, was a city of balance, a perfect circle carved into the fertile plains. To the north, it opened to the world, its massive harbor a dark, bustling mouth that drank from the Zhuyun River and exhaled ships to every corner of Calvenoor. The air here was thick with the scent of salt, fish, and foreign spices—a chaotic and vibrant hub of trade dubbed the “heart of Calvenoor.” Protecting the rest of the city were towering golden walls, impenetrable and serene, with three grand gates opening to the east, south, and west to welcome the caravans that journeyed across the land.

  In the southeast of this grand circle sat the Amber Palace, the heart of the Sunstone Ward—a district of serene avenues, tall shop buildings, extravagant restaurants, and noble estates so named for the warm, golden light that seemed to perpetually bathe its polished marble. It was the city's serene counterpoint to the harbor's chaos, a breathtaking structure where nobles debated, the High Council passed judgment, and the monarch of the region resided. To most, it was a paradise of order and strength.

  To some, it was a cage.

  Within the high walls of the Amber Palace, the sharp slap of bare hands meeting echoed through an open-air training ground. Sunlight glinted off the polished stone floor, where two figures moved in a blur of motion.

  One was a young woman appearing to be in her early twenties, her long, straight midnight-blue hair flowing freely. She wore a signature light blue qipao, and a crystal glowing with white light was attached to a bangle on her left arm. Her luminous silver eyes were narrowed in concentration, carefully tracking every explosive movement of her opponent. Her own movements were a fluid dance of blocks and parries, each step precise. Her opponent was a taller woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, with an athletic frame, fiery short crimson hair, and a white-striped, cat-like tail. Her strikes were explosive and powerful, forcing the younger woman to remain constantly on the defensive.

  Their hands met in a rapid series of strikes, the sound like stones cracking against each other. The blue-haired woman spun away, creating distance. As she did, the air around her chilled, and multiple shimmering spears of pure ice materialized, launching themselves toward her opponent.

  The red-haired woman didn't dodge. She simply raised a hand and caught the first spear mid-flight. It hissed, melting into steam in her grip. She deflected the other two with the back of her hand, the ice shattering into glittering dust before it could touch her.

  With a grin, she lunged forward, closing the distance in an instant. Her movements were now a blur of fiery aggression. The blue-haired woman blocked and parried but was clearly outmatched. In the final exchange, the red-haired woman’s hand ignited, a short, sharp blade of pure fire energy forming from her fingertips. She held it just an inch from the younger woman's neck.

  "It's over," the red-haired woman declared, the fire dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

  The two stood back and bowed deeply to each other.

  "You were slower today, Lin," the red-haired woman said. Her voice was sharp, the tone of a master, but a flicker of concern softened her eyes. "You're distracted. What is on your mind?"

  The blue-haired woman, Lin Meihua, kept her head bowed, her silver eyes downcast. Her breath came in short, controlled gasps. "I'm sorry, Master Lihua. I'm just not feeling well today."

  The master, Zhu Lihua, let her stern expression soften. She stepped forward and gently lifted Lin's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. Then, with a rare, warm gesture, she playfully ruffled Lin’s hair. "Maybe you just need a short break," she said, her voice softer now. "Go take a shower. Walk around the city for a while; see something you like."

  Lin's silver eyes widened slightly. "Is that... alright, Master?"

  Zhu nodded. "Go. Before I change my mind."

  Lin nodded and turned to leave. Master saw through my distress, she thought, yet I can’t tell her why, because even I don’t know why I’m feeling unwell these days. Her posture remained as perfect and regal as ever as she walked toward her quarters in the inner sanctum of the Amber Palace. As she rounded a corner, a short boy with vibrant green hair, looking no older than fifteen, rushed toward her with a fresh towel in hand.

  "Senior!" he shouted, his voice bright with admiration. The boy handed the towel to Lin; a patch of black shell could be seen on the back of his hand.

  Lin stopped and accepted the towel, her smile practiced and polite—a mask that never quite reached her silver eyes. "Thank you, Xiang Feng." She paused, her tone intelligent but cool. "But why do you insist on calling me senior? Our positions on the council are equal."

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  Xiang Feng’s posture straightened, his youthful admiration unwavering. "With all due respect, Senior Lin, your humility does not alter the facts. Your position is secured not just by your seat on this council, but by a legacy of unparalleled loyalty to your duty. You are the 'Snow Flower,' a title your strength and beauty have earned you from allies and enemies alike. You are also the only disciple of the War Empress, Master Zhu Lihua. Not to mention your extreme mastery over your Frost Core. Not many can use the Cores without getting fatigued, but you have—something considered unachievable by many. Despite your age, your individual achievements are endless. To see us as equals would be preposterous. You are, if I may be so bold, the standard to which we all aspire."

  To Lin, the words of praise felt hollow. They echoed in her ears like footsteps in the vast, golden halls of the Amber Palace—grand, but empty. Feng is right, she thought. I have my accomplishments, my master, my duty, my status. I should be happy. Yet, nothing feels right. I have everything that most would be jealous of, but I…. She offered a thin, regal smile, shifting the subject. "Your presence here is noted, Xiang Feng. What is your purpose?"

  "Oh! Right!" he said, his enthusiasm returning. "I came to inquire if you would be attending the banquet two days from now. The King has ordered all members of the council to be present. The heads of the four great Sacred families will be there as well."

  The four great Sacred families of Ruhong, Lin thought with a familiar weariness. Azure Dragon, my mother's and subsequently mine. White Tiger, Master Lihua's. Black Tortoise, his. And the Vermillion Phoenix, the King's own. These families have held power in Ruhong for centuries. Even people outside this region know their names. She had always hated the stifling formalities of these gatherings, but a direct decree from the monarch was not something she could ignore.

  "And the purpose of this banquet?" she asked, her tone cool and direct.

  "It concerns a proposal to bring one of the new rail transport systems from Volnear to Ruhong," Feng explained, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I don't fully understand the technical details myself, but it is a matter of great importance."

  Lin nodded, her mind already moving on. "Understood. I will attend." She gave him a final, curt nod and walked off toward her quarters, her pace quickening.

  Behind her, Xiang Feng waved, his face lit up with a smile like a puppy that had just met its idol. "I believe your brilliance surpasses even that of Lily Pence, Senior Lin!" he shouted after her, continuing to wave.

  Lin’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly at the comparison to Spica's most famous celebrity, but she didn't look back. Another comparison. Another box, she thought, her steps growing even faster. He sees a legend, a collection of titles and deeds. He doesn't see the person beneath. None of them do. The adoration felt less like warmth and more like the cold, unyielding weight of polished marble. It was a role she played, not a life she lived.

  In the northwest of Jinlun, just south of the great harbor, lay a part of the city the maps didn't name. Here, the polished marble of the Sunstone Ward gave way to cracked cobblestone and the smell of rust, coal, and damp, unwashed clothes. Stacks upon stacks of crates formed makeshift walls between warehouses, their shadows hiding the grime that the city's elite preferred to ignore. This was a place for the less fortunate, a district so overlooked that even the King didn't bother to give it a name.

  A young man with messy black hair and a skinny, malnourished frame that looked like it might snap in a strong wind grunted as he heaved another crate onto a towering pile. "Why is it so busy today?" he muttered to no one in particular.

  "Shut up and get to work, or you won't get paid," a rough old man barked from atop a nearby wagon, not even bothering to look at him.

  Another, kinder-looking man stacking barrels nearby sighed. "The boss is in a bad mood. That whole Volnear deal just increased our workload by ten times. You better be prepared."

  The young man groaned, his shoulders aching. "But I'm just a janitor. Why do I have to move crates? Damn it."

  “Move it,” another man holding a crate bumped into the skinny man, forcing him to drop his own.

  “Am I really invisible here?” he sighed.

  Back in the Amber Palace, refreshed after her shower, Lin Meihua walked through the grand corridors toward the outer gates. She passed ornate tapestries depicting ancient battles, golden ornaments that shimmered in the afternoon light, and stoic guards who bowed deeply as she passed, their eyes filled with reverence for her strength. Consorts and maids would stop and whisper, admiring her beauty. Scholars would occasionally step into her path to inquire about her perspective on complex military theory. With every step, she felt the weight of their expectations.

  As she walked through the city streets, her face was plastered on posters and banners advertising everything from military recruitment to the upcoming festival. "The Snow Flower of Ruhong," they read, her painted face serene and perfect. The pride of Jinlun. To her, it felt like she was a mascot, a beautiful toy for the city to display. She was about to break. Every day they are looking at me, expecting something from me. My face is all over the city. Is this really what most people want? To be displayed? Do I want this?

  Lost in her thoughts, she wasn't watching where she was going. As she rounded a busy corner near the market, she bumped squarely into someone, the impact jarring her back to reality. A young man—the same one from the warehouse—his clothes simple and worn, stumbled back, nearly dropping the bag of groceries he was carrying. They both bowed their heads in a quick, reflexive apology, muttered a soft "sorry," and moved on without a second glance, vanishing back into the anonymous flow of the city.

  Why did her smile look so strange, like she was wearing a mask? the young man thought for a second. Must be just me. Better not get involved; it's not worth it. He continued on his way.