The morning dispatch from the Northern Garrison arrived like a thunderbolt across the entire capital, shattering the fragile peace of the imperial court.
Inside the grand, gold-leafed pavilion of the Ministry of Rites, Minister Lin dropped his jade ink-brush so hard it shattered against the polished marble floor. "He signed what?!" he gasped, staring at the wax seal. High-society salons, tea houses, and aristocratic courtyards immediately dissolved into chaotic murmurs of disbelief.
The most ruthless, terrifying alpha general in the empire, a man who had spent a decade ignoring every arranged match from high-ranking noble houses, had officially submitted a marriage decree for a household servant.
Not a duke’s daughter. Not a refined scholar’s heir. A scullery servant.
"It is a mockery," Dowager Madam Su hissed behind her embroidered silk fan, her eyes flashing with venom as she sat in her private parlor surrounded by rival family heads. "Supreme General Xie Yan thinks he can defy centuries of court tradition by dragging some unrefined omega off the floor and calling him a spouse! He is insulting every noble bloodline in the empire!"
"We cannot allow this vulgarity to enter the inner sanctum of high society," agreed Lady Wu, her fingers digging into the armrest of her chair. "The imperial inspectors arrive at his estate tomorrow morning under the guise of verifying the union. If this creature cannot even hold a teacup without trembling, we will expose him as a fraud before the Emperor can seal the decree."
"And if he proves competent?" a younger noblewoman whispered anxiously.
Dowager Madam Su smiled, a cold, humorless expression. "A scullery servant stepping into the viper’s nest of the capital? He won’t survive his first banquet. We will make sure of it."
Miles away, far removed from the calculating whispers of the aristocracy, the target of their collective rage was currently fighting a desperate war against a pile of silk undergarments.
Wen Yu stood in the center of his expansive, sun-drenched dressing room, glaring down at a pair of embroidered silk robes as if they had personally insulted his ancestors. "Why are there so many layers?" he muttered, his narrow hands flying over the fabric as he attempted to fold a tunic with the precision of a professional tailor, only for the slippery silk to slide out of his grip and hit the floor. "Are you kidding me? Who designed these fasteners?"
[Back in Beijing, I lived out of a laundry basket and survived on instant noodles,] Wen Yu thought frantically, bending down to scoop up the fallen silk. [Now I’m expected to dress like an imperial consort while dodging political assassins? This is wildly outside my job description!]
He tossed the robe onto a cedar chest with a heavy sigh, grabbing a feather duster from the corner. "If I can’t master royal fashion, I can at least pretend to be useful," he muttered, sweeping the duster across a lacquered table.
"If you continue to glare at that duster with such murderous intent, the feathers will spontaneously combust."
Wen Yu jumped violently, nearly sending the duster flying as he spun around. "Whoa! General!"
Xie Yan leaned casually against the doorframe, having discarded his heavy steel armor for a loose-fitting dark tunic that showed off the broad, imposing expanse of his shoulders. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, softening his lethal features just enough to make Wen Yu’s heart skip an entirely unapproved beat.
"General," Wen Yu squeaked out, clutching the feather duster to his chest like a wooden shield. "You... you’re back early!"
[Can’t a guy panic and clean in peace?! Why does he always materialize out of thin air like a silent ninja?]
Xie Yan stepped into the room, his leather boots making a soft sound against the thick carpets. A faint, knowing smirk played at the corner of his lips, though he kept his expression carefully measured. "You are glaring at the floor rather intensely for someone just trying to tidy up," he noted smoothly, his deep voice carrying a thread of quiet amusement. "Though I must admit, your choice of weaponry against a simple duster is quite dramatic."
The color drained from Wen Yu’s face as he scrambled to pull his meek omega facade back into place. "Ah... weapon? No! No weaponry here!"
[What am I supposed to answer to that?! ’Sorry sir, I was using the duster to channel my existential dread’?]
He offered a painfully stiff smile, backing away toward the armoire until his heel hit the carved wood. "I was just... keeping busy, sir!"
Xie Yan let out a low, rich chuckle—a sound that rarely ever graced the cold stone walls of the estate. He crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping just a foot away. The clean, sharp scent of mountain pine immediately washed over Wen Yu, wrapping around him like a heavy blanket.
"Rural peasants who apparently spend their time debating the structural integrity of laundry," Xie Yan murmured, reaching out with his large, calloused hand. He gently caught the edge of the feather duster Wen Yu was clutching, pulling it effortlessly from the smaller man’s grip and setting it on the table behind him.
Wen Yu’s breath hitched at the sudden closeness. "I... I wasn’t debating laundry..."
[Stop standing so close! My brain cells are actively committing suicide trying to process your face and the fact that you notice every single time I lose my grip!]
"Your expression suggests you are spiraling again, Wen Yu," Xie Yan said softly, his gaze dropping to the omega’s flushed cheeks before rising back to his eyes. "And given how transparently you panic, I assume you are worrying about tomorrow’s visit from the imperial inspectors."
Wen Yu swallowed hard, forcing his modern panic down and putting on a fragile, submissive front. "Shouldn’t I be, General? The entire capital thinks I’m a scandalous interloper. If the inspectors see through my terrible acting, we’ll both be executed for treason."
"Let them try," Xie Yan replied, his tone hardening from teasing amusement back into unyielding authority. He stepped even closer, his hand moving from the table to lightly brush a stray lock of hair away from Wen Yu’s forehead. The casual intimacy sent a violent shiver straight down the smaller man’s spine. "The imperial court expects a frightened, trembling omega who tripped his way into my bed. They do not expect someone who stares at my face with such intense scrutiny."
Wen Yu’s face burned bright red. "I... I wasn’t scrutinizing!"
[Did he notice me staring at his jawline again?! I am going to die of embarrassment before the political enemies even reach the front gate!]
"You flatter yourself, sir," Wen Yu squeaked out, trying desperately to inject a note of humble denial into his voice, though his shaking hands completely betrayed him. "I was merely... evaluating your tactical defensive posture!"
"Of course you were," Xie Yan murmured, a low, rumbling laugh vibrating against his chest as he closed the remaining gap between them. He leaned down, his lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of Wen Yu’s ear. "Then let us practice your defensive posture for tomorrow. The inspectors are cunning, and they will test every aspect of our union. Are you prepared to play your part?"
Wen Yu’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The overwhelming pine scent, the intoxicating proximity, and the terrifying reality of the political storm waiting outside the estate walls collided all at once.
"I am," Wen Yu whispered back, his voice dropping into a shaky, sincere register. "I’ll do whatever you tell me to do."
[God help me,] Wen Yu thought frantically, looking up into the general’s piercing dark eyes with wide, innocent compliance. [I came here for a quiet night of reading webnovels, and now I’m starring in a high-stakes political drama with my ultimate fictional bias!]
Deep behind his stoic exterior, Xie Yan listened to every single unhinged, simping syllable echoing straight into his mind. A dangerous, fond amusement flickered in his dark eyes, though he kept his expression completely deadpan to ensure the omega remained entirely unaware of the mental bridge connecting them.
"Good," the general whispered, his fingers resting lightly against Wen Yu’s waist. "Because the curtain rises tomorrow, and the capital is watching."