Daniel
The air shimmered with mana.
It wasn't visible—not exactly—but Daniel could feel it buzzing just beneath the polished marble floor. It clung to the pillars, curled in the folds of the drapes, hummed in the seams of his ceremonial robe. Everything about this place pulsed with elegance, danger, and cost.
He stood at the end of the aisle, stiff-backed beneath a ceremonial archway shaped like twin phoenixes folding into one another. The platform rose above the main floor, flanked by crimson silk and rows of watchful nobles. Beyond them, carved jade doors shimmered under light filtered through magical crystal windows. Opulence didn't begin to cover it.
This wasn't a wedding. It was a coronation dressed as a vow.
The altar behind him glowed with soft blue sigils—recording arrays—capturing every detail. Above, a golden projection sphere hovered over the hall's center like a second sun, humming faintly as it prepared to display the second ceremony.
Because this wasn't just Daniel's wedding.
It was two.
The elites of the capital whispered behind their fans, watching both grooms with bated breath. This was spectacle and performance. Strategy wrapped in silk.
Daniel—no, Ethan Zhou to them—stood at the center of it all, his face unreadable, his breath controlled, and a war going on inside his head.
"Let your hands hang loose. Straighten your spine. That's how they expect you to stand."
Ethan's voice, always precise.
Daniel adjusted subtly.
"How am I supposed to pretend I'm not losing my mind?" he thought, internally.
"You're not pretending. You're just delaying the collapse."
Great. Ethan was a bottle of freaking sunshine.
He shifted his eyes to the projection sphere.
A ripple passed through the air, like wind stirring across still water. The sphere flared to life—soft gold and pale blue light converging—and the image of the second wedding materialized above them.
There was Caleb Zhou, dressed in snow-white robes with bronze trim, standing in a mirrored ceremonial space.
Smug didn't cover it.
His chin lifted just slightly above center. His eyes gleamed like someone who'd found the perfect angle. Even from a projection, Daniel could feel the performance bleeding through.
And beside him—Claire Wang.
Daniel blinked once.
Her gown was simpler than he expected—ivory silk with green jade accents, more refined than dramatic. Her hair was styled in an elegant waterfall braid, and her face wore a faint, distant smile. Not joy. Not warmth. Just... public polish.
He couldn't read her eyes. And that made it worse.
Daniel squinted. "Yeah, those two have 'asshole' written all over their faces."
Daniel could feel Ethan's shrug.
It was weird.
"She used to smile like that," Ethan muttered. "Early on in our marriage. Though now I have to wonder if that was all a lie."
Daniel's jaw tightened. Yep, those two were definitely assholes. He wondered if he flipped them off, would they get his meaning?
Ethan actually laughed at that.
He looked away from the projection and back to the aisle. Still no sign of his bride.
Which, of course, was intentional.
Fashionably late. Politically symbolic. Subtle jab at the whole marriage and the thought that she would be married to someone so far beneath her station. A dozen subtle meanings wrapped in ten extra minutes of waiting. Let the lesser groom sweat.
Yeah, she was probably an asshole too.
But he didn't sweat. The body wouldn't allow it.
Still, he felt every gaze in the room on him—Li Clan elders, foreign nobles, alchemists, high-ranking cultivators (that's what he was calling them instead of Chi or Mana Bearers—dumb), whispering bridesmaids and bored young heirs. Every pair of eyes calculated his worth against his expression.
And then—music.
It shifted, not in volume but tone. The soft, floating chords of guzheng and violin took on new structure. Bells chimed once. Twice. A third time. The aisle cleared like water parting before a stone.
She was here.
Vivian Li.
Li Meiyun, to the registry. The Ice Queen, to her enemies.
She entered the hall like she owned it. Not in arrogance—but in certainty. There was no sway to her hips, no flick of her veil to draw attention. She didn't need to draw it. It was already hers.
Her gown was red and white—satin and silk, with embroidery that shimmered like flame under glass. Gold thread outlined lotus blossoms that curled from her waist to her shoulders. Her sleeves tapered to pale wrists clad in bangles that barely made a sound.
Her face was covered. Her black hair was pinned high, adorned with jade-and-gold combs that jutted like a crown of quiet blades. The only warmth was the subtle glow of mana around her—soft and deadly as a storm behind glass.
Daniel felt her presence before she reached him.
It was like standing in a blizzard and pretending not to shiver.
"Striking figure," he thought.
"Wait until you see her face," Ethan replied.
She stepped up to the platform without glancing at the projection above them. Not once.
Daniel didn't move.
They stood side by side beneath the ceremonial arch, facing the officiants, the elders, and a room holding its collective breath.
He couldn't see her face. That was probably a good thing, because he doubted she was actually taking notice of him.
The music faded. The projection continued—Caleb now raising Claire's hand, beginning their own vows. His voice drifted through the air, perfectly timed.
And beneath that whisper of a second wedding, Daniel heard his own voice speak.
Not aloud.
Not even mentally.
Just there.
This is the setup.
Two weddings.
Two lies.
One war.
He grinned. Talk about a setup.
The officiant stepped forward with ceremonial precision. His robes shimmered with a lattice of embroidered constellations—House Li's ancestral mapping of bloodlines through the ages.
"Before all present, the union of Zhou Ethan and Li Meiyun shall be sealed," he intoned, voice both ancient and ageless. "Let the vows be spoken, that the record may stand, and the contract be made."
Daniel inhaled through the nose. Let it out slow.
He repeated the vows as they were given—line by line.
Words about harmony.
Unity.
Legacy.
Magic that must never be diluted.
Families that must never fall.
Each line felt like it was wrapping a thread around his throat. Not painful. Just... tightening.
His voice didn't waver. The body wouldn't let it.
"By my name," he said finally, "and by the blood I carry, I vow loyalty in name, duty in act, and strength in lineage."
A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Executed perfectly. Neutral. Respectful.
The officiant stepped forward, voice smooth and ancient.
"Ethan, second born of the Zhou family, face your bride."
Daniel didn't move at first.
"He's talking to you. Lift her veil, dumbass," Ethan whispered in his head.
Daniel grimaced subtly. Then stepped forward.
Vivian stood motionless, the veil drawn over her features like a curtain over a painting. Her hands were folded in front of her, still, poised. Her very presence had a gravity to it—like a drawn blade waiting to be used.
He raised the veil carefully.
The silk slipped back, revealing her face.
And the world seemed to pause.
She wasn't beautiful in the way Claire had been—sun-kissed, inviting, marketable.
Vivian Li was the kind of beautiful that made you forget how to speak.
Her skin was pale, not powdered, but flawless—a luminous ivory that hinted at foreign blood, maybe part Western, maybe witch-lineage. Her features were sharply defined: high cheekbones, a narrow jawline, lips like they were carved in porcelain. Her black hair was woven with gold-threaded combs and long jeweled pins that gleamed faintly with mana inscriptions.
And her eyes—
Deep, liquid purple.
Unnatural. Arresting.
The color of crushed violets under glass. A hue that shouldn't exist—except on something dangerous. They glowed faintly under the ceremonial lighting, not with magic, but with memory.
Those were the eyes of someone who remembered everything.
Daniel kept his expression calm.
Vivian's face didn't move. Not in greeting. Not in disdain.
But those violet eyes stared straight into him.
No curiosity. No interest.
Just observation.
The officiant didn't wait for the silence to end.
"By the seal of the Li Clan, Lady Meiyun, do you vow alliance in honor, wisdom in rule, and unity in blood?"
Vivian's voice was quiet. Silken. Almost soft.
"I do."
No tremor. No delay. No warmth.
Just the sound of snow falling on stone.
Vivian Li's voice was low and smooth. It cut through the silence like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"I do."
She did not look at Daniel. Not once.
No smile. No nod. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.
It was like standing next to a living statue—perfect, composed, carved from ice.
A second officiant stepped forward. This one older. His hands glowed faintly with spell ink, the lines curling down his fingers like vines of silver fire.
He held a golden basin in both hands. Inside: ceremonial water enchanted to hold living mana.
The blade came next.
Small. Jeweled. Ritualistic.
Daniel didn't flinch as the tip nicked his palm. A single drop of blood fell into the basin and hissed, shifting from red to silver as it touched the water.
Vivian followed.
Her hand extended without pause. The cut was clean. Her blood fell in silence.
The basin shimmered.
Light burst upward—two glowing orbs formed in the air, one from each bloodline, weaving briefly before splitting off.
One orb pressed gently into Daniel's chest—warm, then gone.
The other vanished into Vivian's skin just above her heart, disappearing beneath her robes.
The hall erupted into soft applause. Formal. Measured. Symbolic.
The bond was sealed.
"Congratulations," Ethan muttered. "You're legally stuck."
Daniel didn't respond. His eyes drifted upward.
Above them, the magical projection of Caleb's wedding reached its climax.
Claire's hand was kissed delicately. Caleb turned toward the watching nobles.
And smiled.
It wasn't a grin. Not a smirk. Just that slight uptick at the corner of his mouth that said, I've already won.
Daniel's jaw flexed.
Vivian did not look up. Her eyes remained forward. Focused. Unshaken.
He wondered—just for a second—if she recognized the moment as staged. Or if she simply didn't care.
"The binding is witnessed," the officiant announced. "Let it be known: Zhou Ethan and Li Meiyun are joined, by seal and by blood, until bloodline ends."
The projection dimmed. The lights softened.
And it was done.
No kiss.
No clasping of hands.
No moment of triumph.
Just the slow, ceremonial bow—to the elders of House Li, then to those of House Zhou.
Vivian turned on her heel and began walking.
Not hurried. Not slow.
Just done.
Daniel followed.
Each step echoed louder in his head than in the hall.
"She didn't cry. She didn't smile. That means we're still in the game," Ethan said.
This isn't a marriage, Daniel thought. It's a contract. And I just signed it in someone else's blood.
They passed through the tall ceremonial doors in silence, the world of public performance closing behind them.
What waited beyond would be quieter.
And far, far more dangerous.