"Sister, please don't abandon me."
Xiao Limo's eyes sank deeper into that hollow look of his. Seeing him sit there with that guileless, harmless expression on his face made irritation crawl up my spine. My brow drew tight — part exhaustion, part pure, undisguised displeasure.
Xiao Limo was an idiot. A genuine, certified idiot.
Before he came of age, he had been the most brilliant young man in all of Da Qi — gifted, dashing, impossibly out of reach. Then his coming-of-age ceremony passed, and something in him broke. His mind retreated to that of a small child. No medicine touched it.
* * *
Da Qi had been rocked by a piece of news: the Emperor had arranged a marriage between me — Princess Hua Shu, his most pampered, most celebrated daughter — and that idiot general, Xiao Limo.
The imperial decree hit the capital like a stone dropped into still water.
"You senile old fool," I said, gripping his sleeve. "Go ahead and ruin your daughter's life. I'm walking out that door and I'm never coming back."
Imperial Father shook his head, his expression the picture of grievous concern.
Does that mean I don't have to marry him?
"Fortunately," he said, "you are not my only daughter."
You tyrant!
I swallowed back tears and tightened my grip on his sleeve. "Xiao Limo's already lost his mind. Can't we each take a step back?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Well, I'm marrying into the Xiao family regardless — what about Xiao Lifeng instead?"
Imperial Father flicked his wide sleeve. "Xiao Lifeng is a concubine-born son, of low standing, and a bookworm besides. Hardly a match for my jewel."
I stamped my foot. "Then I'll just marry Lord Xiao himself! Lady Xiao has already passed — if I move into the manor, I'll be a Lady immediately. Surely that's good enough?"
Imperial Father's mustache practically levitated with outrage. "Preposterous! Are you trying to send me to my grave? Lord Xiao Zhong is half in the ground already!"
Lord Xiao was Imperial Father's sworn brother — the same age as him, in fact, though Father seemed to have conveniently forgotten that. His back court, meanwhile, had just welcomed a new Lady Chen, fresh out of girlhood.
I pressed my advantage with cheerful cruelty. "I don't mind the age gap. Is Your Majesty saying Lord Xiao isn't worthy of me?"
Imperial Father looked at me like I had crawled out from under a rock. His hands were shaking. "My wretched daughter! My wretched daughter!"
I patted his back in consolation while muttering under my breath, "My foolish Emperor. My foolish, foolish Emperor."
He turned away and made a valiant attempt at reason. "What exactly is wrong with Xiao Limo? He rose to fame young, his conduct is upright—"
"That was before! Right now he's just an idiot!"
Imperial Father's eyes narrowed. "An idiot suits you perfectly."
Before I could process the insult, he continued: "That temper of yours — who in this world could put up with it? I think Xiao Limo will do just fine."
In the end, afraid of disappointing him, I married Xiao Limo.
* * *
The wedding of Princess Hua Shu was celebrated across all of Da Qi. The woman at the center of it felt like she was attending her own funeral.
Xiao Limo entered the bridal chamber led by a nanny. Once she withdrew, he turned to me and spoke his first word: "My lady."
That voice — warm, unhurried, clean of edge. He doesn't sound like an idiot. Could the rumors be wrong?
He settled naturally beside me. Then, without warning, he ducked under my red veil and peered up at me with the face of absolute innocence. "My lady, why are you hiding your face?"
Never should have indulged in hope. I yanked off the veil and shoved him aside. "Get away from me."
In the amber glow of the wedding candles, I finally saw him clearly.
Skin like carved frost. Bones like sculpted jade. A soul made from melted snow. What a waste — he's an idiot.
"My lady is so mean." He puffed out his lower lip, eyes brimming. I hated how much I wanted to comfort him.
I slapped the wall in frustration. "Limo is so adorable — how could I ever be mean to him?"
His face broke into its childlike smile again. "Does my lady like Limo?"
Those eyes — pure and unguarded, not a shadow in them. I blinked. Then I lay down stiffly and turned away. "I don't. You are not worthy of me."
He lay down beside me and tilted his head. "Is my lady... disappointed in Limo?"
I rolled to face him. "Don't call me 'my lady.' When it is just the two of us, call me Sister. And when I say you're not worthy of me, you're supposed to say you'll try harder — that will put me in a better mood."
His eyes lit up. "Yes! Limo will remember."
"Sister."
"Mm?"
"Sister."
"What is it?"
"Sister."
"Say something!"
"Sister."
"Get out!!!"
His lower lip wobbled. Fresh tears threatened. "Sister is being mean again!"
I cannot stand watching a beautiful man cry. "Alright, alright. I'm not being mean. Go to sleep."
Xiao Limo sat bolt upright and pressed himself against the wall in silence.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Now what?"
He pouted. "Sister, you have to undress before sleeping or you won't rest well."
You and your rules.
I admitted it — I rolled my eyes. "Then undress yourself."
"Limo doesn't know how." He said it with complete composure.
This insufferable little imp. I, Princess Hua Shu, had sunk to this — undressing an idiot like a personal valet.
He wore his innocence like armor and I had no choice but to lower myself to the task.
"Done. Can we sleep now?"
Smack. Xiao Limo planted a firm, warm kiss on my cheek, lips still curled in a gentle smile.
Before I could react, he grabbed at my outer robe, muttering with great authority, "Sister was kind to Limo, so Limo will help Sister undress."
I narrowed my eyes. "You said you didn't know how."
He didn't miss a beat. "Limo is very clever. When Sister helped Limo, Limo learned right away. But Limo does not know why — today he learns, tomorrow he forgets again."
He dropped his gaze, head low, looking for all the world like a child who had done something wrong.
Blast this wretched soft heart of mine.
"Limo is the cleverest boy I have ever met."
The cloud lifted from his face at once. Encouraged, he set to work helping me undress — then my hand shot out and slapped his away. "What do you think you're touching?!"
He pointed at my chest with genuine curiosity. "Limo doesn't have those. Limo is only curious — why is Sister's chest like that?"
My face went scarlet. "I — well—"
He pressed his hand there again, uncertain. "Does Sister have the same hidden illness as Limo?"
That snapped me wide awake. I found myself staring into his baffled face — and then his expression shifted. Worry crept in, and his voice took on the tremor of someone fighting tears. "Sister, being sick is very frightening. They force me to drink so much medicine. They stick me with needles. It hurts. Limo doesn't want Sister to be sick."
What can I possibly say to a child who knows nothing?
While I wrestled with that, his large hand gave my chest a deliberate squeeze. He choked out the words: "If I press here, will Sister get better?"
My face went dark. I turned away in mortification. "No. Sister is not sick."
He pulled me back with surprising strength.
"Sister is lying — to keep Limo from worrying. If Sister won't let Limo help, Limo will tell Father tomorrow that Sister is ill, and ask Father to send a physician."
My head buzzed. I sat up fast. "Fine. Fine. I'm not sick, I never said I was sick, do what you want — press, press, press."
Go ahead. Kill me.
"What if pressing doesn't help? It swells up so much — would it get better if we drew it out?"
"You — you — you—" I lurched off the bed, chest heaving.
He blinked at me. "If Sister doesn't like that, it's alright. Medicine is bitter anyway."
He lifted his inner robe. Beneath it: a tapestry of dark bruises, livid red welts, and a constellation of needle marks.
"Needles hurt," he said simply.
Gods above. What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this?