An Unwanted Groom

Song Rui's heart was pounding in her chest as she was led down the cold, grand corridor of the palace. The chains at her wrists seemed to weigh even heavier with each step, each breath harder to take. The crimson and gold of her wedding dress felt suffocating, wrapping around her body like an oppressive force. The once grandiose beauty of the hallways, with their towering red pillars and flickering lanterns, now seemed like a dark labyrinth leading her to her doom.

She had read enough to know that this was the moment when her life would change irrevocably. She had spent hours poring over history books in her previous world, reading about the fates of the war-torn princesses who had been married off as political pawns. Li Yue's fate had always seemed like a tragic tale, a woman with no voice, no choices, and no chance at happiness. But as Song Rui walked forward, her mind scrambled for any possible escape, any way to rewrite the story.

The doors to the grand hall loomed ahead, their ornate wood glinting in the golden light. They were massive, heavy, and a visual representation of the weight pressing down on her shoulders. The sounds of drums beating rhythmically echoed from beyond the doors, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Her pulse quickened.

The guards around her maintained their stoic silence, their gazes fixed ahead. None of them offered any compassion, no pity, or concern for her. They were simply doing their duty, escorting a woman to her wedding – a wedding she never asked for, and one she never wanted.

As they reached the doors, one of the guards turned to her, his face impassive. "The Warlord awaits."

Song Rui's throat went dry. She had heard the name of Feng Xuan whispered in the halls of the palace, spoken of in both fear and reverence. He was the warlord, the one whose cold, calculating nature had earned him both loyalty and hatred. His name was associated with power, control, and ruthless strategy. He had conquered lands, destroyed enemies, and earned his place in history through sheer dominance. But none of the stories she had heard prepared her for the reality.

The doors opened with a heavy creak, and Song Rui was shoved forward. She stumbled, but the maids at her side caught her, adjusting the heavy layers of her wedding gown with practiced hands. She wanted to pull away, to break free from the constraints, but the chains on her wrists kept her bound. Helpless.

Inside, the hall was a sight of opulence beyond anything she had ever imagined. Red banners lined the walls, golden lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting flickering light across the room. The air was thick with incense, the smell heavy and sweet, mixing with the metallic tang of tension in the air. The floor beneath her feet was a polished marble, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

At the end of the hall, on a raised platform, sat Feng Xuan. He was dressed in the regal attire of a warlord, his robes black with gold embroidery, the fabric rich and flowing. His posture was straight, and commanding, his eyes sharp and calculating. His gaze fixed on Song Rui as she entered the room, and for a moment, everything around her seemed to blur.

He was as she had read about – cold, composed, and terrifyingly powerful. His features were handsome, but there was an edge to his appearance that made him seem untouchable. His dark eyes locked onto hers with a predatory gleam, and Song Rui felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. She swallowed hard.

He didn't stand, didn't make any move to acknowledge her arrival in any personal way. His presence was imposing, suffocating. And yet, he was so still, so composed, that it seemed like he was more a figure carved from stone than a living, breathing man.

The sound of a gong echoed through the hall, signaling the start of the ceremony.

A man in official robes stepped forward and began speaking in formal tones, words that were lost to Song Rui as her mind swirled with confusion and fear. She could barely focus on his words as her gaze remained fixed on Feng Xuan. His lips twitched, but there was no smile, no warmth. Just the cold, calculating nature of a man who had likely seen and done it all.

Song Rui could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She was supposed to marry this man – a man who had conquered kingdoms and had no interest in her, except as a tool in his political games. The chains at her wrists felt tighter, a cruel reminder of her helplessness.

She had to do something. Anything.

But before she could make a move, the ceremony began in earnest.

A priest stepped forward, speaking in a language that Song Rui barely understood, and before she could process what was happening, she was being guided forward, her hands still bound by the golden chains. Feng Xuan's gaze never wavered, his eyes cold and unreadable. His presence seemed to grow heavier with every step she took toward him.

The man who was about to become her husband didn't even acknowledge her. There was no question, no acknowledgment of her fears or her distress. It was as if she were merely an object to be presented, a piece in a larger game that she had no control over.

Song Rui's heart raced. She had to think fast. The last remnants of her world seemed to slip further away as the ceremony continued, but she couldn't let herself be consumed by the situation. She had read enough to know that Li Yue's fate was tied to this man, to this marriage, and if she didn't find a way out soon, her fate would be sealed in this ancient world.

She was about to become the bride of the most feared warlord in the land. But what did that mean for her? Would she truly be a pawn in his political games? Or could she carve out a new path for herself, even in a world where history had already decided her place?

She didn't have the answers. But she knew one thing.

She wasn't going to go down without a fight.

The priest motioned for her to kneel before Feng Xuan, and for a moment, Song Rui hesitated. But with no other choice, she sank to her knees, the fabric of the wedding dress pooling around her like a sea of red and gold. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest.

As the ceremony progressed, Feng Xuan's gaze never left her. He was unmoving, silent, and yet, she could feel the pressure of his eyes like a thousand unseen daggers. She was nothing to him but a step toward consolidating his power.

As the priest continued his recitations, Song Rui forced herself to look up at him, to meet his gaze with every ounce of defiance she could muster.

Feng Xuan's lips curled upward ever so slightly, his expression unreadable.

But in that fleeting moment, Song Rui knew something. He wasn't just a cold, calculating warlord. There was something else in his eyes – something dark, something dangerous. He had as much to lose in this marriage as she did.

And somehow, that knowledge gave her a small shred of hope.