The sun rose over the imperial capital, heralding the birth of a new day—a dawn laden with fragile hope and unseen destiny. To the world, it was merely the beginning of another day. To Lan Cheng, it was the dawn of long-awaited hope—a hope he had carried across battlefields, through years of exile, and into the heart of the very place that had once cast him aside.
Before dawn had even touched the horizon, Lan Cheng was already awake.
Or perhaps...
he had never slept at all.
The night had passed in restless silence, each passing hour feeling longer than the last. Every time he closed his eyes, tomorrow became today, and the image of the emperor standing upon the Dragon Throne surfaced unbidden in his mind.
After sixteen years...
Today, he would finally stand before his father again.
The first pale light of dawn had yet to break when servants quietly entered his chamber, carrying warm water and fresh court robes. The room remained hushed, disturbed only by the faint crackle of burning charcoal and the rustle of silk.
Lan Cheng stood before the bronze mirror, his expression as composed as ever.
Only the sleeplessness beneath his eyes betrayed him.
Behind him stood Cui Huoyang. Cui Huoyang had followed Lan Cheng through countless battlefields. He had seen him drenched in blood, watched him emerge from blazing infernos, and stood beside him when victory seemed impossible.
Cui Huoyang was born into a family of ordinary soldiers stationed on the Eastern Border. His father died defending Great Lan during a Hangzhou invasion when Cui was barely fifteen.
With nowhere to go, he enlisted in the army.
There, he met the newly arrived Ninth Prince.
Back then, Lan Cheng was not General Cheng.
He was merely an unwanted prince whom everyone mocked.
The commanders humiliated him.
The veteran soldiers ignored him.
The nobles' sons ridiculed him behind his back.
Only Cui, then a young recruit himself, treated Lan Cheng like any other soldier.
Years later, during a devastating battle, Cui was surrounded by enemy cavalry.
Everyone believed he was already dead.
Only Lan Cheng turned his horse around.
He charged alone into the enemy formation and carried Cui back despite suffering several wounds himself.
From that day onward...
Cui pledged his life to Lan Cheng.
Not because Lan Cheng was a prince.
Not because he was his superior.
But because Lan Cheng had become the first person to risk his own life for him.
To the army, he was General Cheng's right hand.
To Lan Cheng...
he was one of the very few people he trusted without reservation.
Now let's focus on the story;
Holding the ceremonial outer robe with practiced ease, Cui Huoyang carefully draped it over Lan Cheng's shoulders before fastening the jade belt around his waist.The dark robes embroidered with golden qilins transformed the battle-worn general into an imperial prince once more.
Cui tightened the final clasp of Lan Cheng's ceremonial robe before stepping back to admire his work.
"There."
He folded his arms with satisfaction.
"I almost forgot you were born a prince."
Lan Cheng glanced at his reflection.
"It's been many years."
"Too many."
Cui clicked his tongue.
"I've gotten so used to seeing you covered in armor that these robes feel... strange."
Lan Cheng looked at his reflection.
For years, he had worn nothing but armor stained by dust, snow, and blood.
This felt...
unfamiliar.
Almost foreign.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"I suppose they do."
Cui walked around him once before nodding.
"But I have to admit..."
"You look much more intimidating like this."
Lan Cheng raised an eyebrow.
"I thought princes were supposed to look refined."
"Oh, you do."
Cui grinned.
"You simply look like the refined sort that could still kill ten men before breakfast."
Lan Cheng let out a quiet chuckle.
A genuine one.
Rare.
For a fleeting moment, the weight upon his shoulders seemed lighter.
Then...
his gaze drifted toward the palace beyond the window.
The smile disappeared almost immediately.
Cui noticed.
"You've been thinking about His Majesty all night."
It wasn't a question.
Lan Cheng remained silent.
"You didn't sleep."
Another silence.
Finally—
"I keep wondering..."
Lan Cheng spoke so softly it was almost a whisper.
"...whether he'll smile when he sees me."
Cui's own smile faded.
His heart tightened.
Because he knew...
Lan Cheng feared facing the emperor more than he had ever feared facing an army.
Yet Cui forced confidence into his voice.
"He will."
He rested a hand firmly on Lan Cheng's shoulder.
"He has to."
"You've given Great Lan sixteen years."
"You've given him victories."
"You've given him peace."
"If he cannot see you today..."
Cui paused.
"...then the fault lies with him."
Not with you.
He never spoke those last words aloud.
He didn't need to.
Inside his chamber, Lan Cheng took one last look at his reflection.
Gone was the battle-worn commander clad in weathered armor.
In his place stood the Ninth Prince of Great Lan.
He wore a deep midnight-blue princely robe, embroidered with golden dragons that shimmered beneath the morning light. A jade belt rested neatly around his waist, while his long black hair was secured beneath an exquisitely crafted golden crown. The years of hardship had not diminished his noble bearing; rather, they had refined it into a quiet elegance.
Lan Cheng merely smiled faintly before turning toward the door.
Together, the two men stepped into the courtyard.
The moment they appeared, the bustle outside came to an abrupt halt.
Dozens of soldiers instinctively turned toward them.
For a heartbeat—
no one spoke.
The men who had marched beside General Cheng for years had only ever known him dressed in armor blackened by smoke and stained by the dust of countless battlefields.
This...
was the first time they had seen him dressed as royalty.
He looked almost unreal.
The morning sunlight illuminated the intricate embroidery upon his robes, lending him an almost celestial aura.
One young soldier leaned toward his companion and whispered in amazement,
"...Is that really our General?"
Another could not hide his admiration.
"I knew General Cheng was handsome..."
"...but today he looks as though he has descended from the heavens."
A third soldier grinned proudly.
"Today, His Majesty will surely reward General Cheng for all his achievements."
"He deserves nothing less."
"I heard the entire court has been waiting to meet the legendary General Cheng."
"The Emperor will finally recognize him."
Their whispers spread quietly through the ranks.
Not a single voice carried envy.
Only pride.
To them, Lan Cheng was more than their commander.
He was the man who had carried them through impossible battles and brought them home alive.
Watching him walk toward the waiting carriage, dressed once more as an imperial prince, filled every soldier with quiet satisfaction.
Lan Cheng, however, remained oblivious to their admiration.
Or perhaps...
he simply paid it no mind.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
On the man he had not seen in sixteen long years.
The Emperor.
The carriage stood waiting before the residence, its horses already harnessed and the imperial escort mounted upon their steeds.
As Lan Cheng approached, every soldier straightened simultaneously before lowering themselves into respectful bows.
"Greetings, General Cheng!"
Their voices echoed through the courtyard with practiced discipline.
Lan Cheng paused before the carriage.
His calm gaze swept over the men who had followed him through years of bloodshed and hardship.
Then, with the faintest smile, he raised a hand.
"Rise."
The soldiers obeyed immediately.
"We're already running late for the morning court," Lan Cheng said gently. "There is no need for such formalities."
The words were simple.
Yet they reflected the man he had always been.
To him, these soldiers were never merely subordinates.
They were brothers who had entrusted him with their lives.
Without another word, Lan Cheng stepped into the carriage.
The coachman tightened the reins.
Outside, Cui Huoyang mounted his horse and rode to the front of the procession.
With a sharp command, the escort began to move.
Hooves struck the frozen stone roads in perfect rhythm as the procession departed the guest residence, heading toward the Imperial Palace.
Inside the carriage, Lan Cheng rested a hand lightly upon his knee.
His heartbeat was strangely uneven.
Not because he feared the ministers.
Not because he feared the imperial court.
But because, after sixteen years...
he was finally going to meet his father.
And somewhere deep within his heart, a hope he had spent years nurturing whispered one final prayer.
Please...
Look at me today.
Not as the son of Ruo Meng.
But simply... as your son.