Their minds moved in tandem, two parts of a single strategic whole. "The prince wants something beyond victory." Jin Mulan's jaw tightened. She understood what targets they'd chosen.
Luo He was her husband, yes. But more importantly, in public perception, he was her weakness. The gorgeously beautiful, accomplished general Mulan married to a scholarly, seemingly frail man.
It was the narrative enemies loved to exploit. "He wants to hurt you," she said quietly. It wasn't a question. "To scar you. To make you suffer in ways that reflect back on me."
Luo He moved closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "Is that a problem?" He asked calmly. Jin Mulan's expression shifted, that subtle transformation that only he ever witnessed.
The cold, elegant exterior that faced the world melted away, replaced by something raw and honest. Her eyes softened, pupils dilating slightly. "Yes."
She breathed, her voice dropping to something intimate. "It is."
She reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek with surprising tenderness from a woman known for her martial prowess. "Your face is mine to admire, not for some prince to carve his frustrations into." She said her tone sweet as honey.
Luo He caught her hand, pressing it against his skin. The gesture was simple, but it carried weight. A silent promise.
When she looked at him like this, when she let down every guard, every pretense of the fierce general Mulan everyone else knew, and truly looked at him.
It reminded him exactly why he was willing to walk into whatever trap awaited him outside that door. Because for this woman it's all worth it, and Luo He had understood that long time ago.
"Then I suppose," he murmured. "I'll simply have to ensure he never gets close enough to try." He said calmly.
By afternoon, the arena was packed.
The crowd formed a living sea of silk and jeweled ornaments, nobles pressing close for the best view. The air thrummed with anticipation and the low murmur of a thousand conversations.
Prince Zhong emerged first, his noble appearance calculated for maximum impact. Silver armor caught the sunlight like liquid metal, each piece fitted to perfection, reflecting years of martial prestige.
He moved with the confidence of a man who had never tasted defeat, his sword held with the ease of an extension of his body. He approached the bridal platform.
There, upon specially adorned seats at the head of the hall, sat the bride and groom. The bride remained hidden beneath a flowing veil of crimson silk.
While the groom wore a finely crafted golden mask that concealed the upper half of his face. It covered his eyes and brow, tapering elegantly toward the bridge of his nose while leaving his nose, mouth, and strong jawline uncovered.
Among the kingdoms, the custom of concealing the faces of the newlyweds was an ancient one, though by no means universal.
Some brides wore only the traditional crimson veil, while some grooms donned ceremonial masks fashioned from silver or gold.
Certain families observed both customs, others only one, and many ignored them entirely. Mostly brides covered their faces with a crimson veil while men really wore masks.
To those who upheld the tradition, the coverings signified that the couple entered the ceremony not as individuals, but as heirs and representatives of their respective houses.
Only after the wedding rites were complete were those symbols cast aside, revealing not a prince and princess, nor heirs of rival lineages, but simply husband and wife.
The Wu Kingdom's older noble houses were among the tradition's most devoted practitioners, preserving it as a mark of dignity and reverence for their ancestors.
It was, however, merely a custom, not an obligation. Many families regarded it as little more than ceremonial pageantry. Luo He and Jin Mulan had been among them.
On the day of their own wedding, neither had concealed their face. Jin Mulan's beauty had been far too radiant to hide beneath a veil.
While Luo He's expressions had always been too candid and alive to be hidden behind a mask.
Their marriage had never needed the symbolism of separation before unity. They had stood before the world exactly as they were, choosing sincerity over ceremony.
The prince bowed to the veiled bride, his respect performative. "Sister, grant me your favor in this match?" Even behind the veil, her nod was visible. Swift, calculated, complicit.
Then Jin Mulan entered the arena.
The entire courtyard seemed to draw a collective breath. She wore a battle robe of deep crimson.
The color somehow intensifying the natural radiance of her skin. Wooden guards reinforced her shoulders and knees. Practical, unadorned, but on her, even function became art.
The garment was tailored to perfection, fitted through the waist in a way that made every movement flow like water, her curves evident without being too exposed.
Crimson boots laced to mid-calf completed the ensemble, and her hair, that magnificent crimson red silk, was bound in a tight ponytail that swayed with each decisive step.
She was not merely beautiful. She was magnificent. Several nobles stood abruptly, unable to contain themselves.
One diplomat from the Eastern kingdom actually gasped.
The envoy from the Yang kingdom licked his lips unconsciously, his gaze traveling along her form with predatory interest. His hands gripped the armrest of his seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
Tonight, his expression seemed to promise himself. Tonight, I will have her warming my bed. Jin Mulan noticed his stare, she always noticed these things.
But she gave no reaction, merely filed the observation away in the same way one might note an insect crawling across a wall. Unimportant. Beneath notice. Her entire life had been this way.
Men looked, men fantasized, men scheamed. It was noise. As long as they didn't touch, didn't harm, didn't act on their desires, they were irrelevant.
And she knew, with absolute certainty, that no one would dare lay a finger on her. Not while Luo He lived. He would burn the world down before .
Luo He himself stood at the arena's edge, still in his simple black and red robe, unarmed and untouched by the martial affectations around him.
When his eyes met hers across the distance, Jin Mulan felt that familiar warmth bloom in her chest. The one that only he created, from all the men in her life. Not even in her father's care, did she felt so warm and safe at the same time.
"Your Highness," Jin Mulan's voice cut through the thick anticipation like a well sharpened blade. "I here by stand as my husband's champion. The Wu Kingdom laws permit this substitution, do they not?" She asked politely.
The assembled nobles froze, suddenly uncertain. Prince Zhong's expression flickered. Just for an instant, before settling back into confidence. But that moment of hesitation was enough.
In that split second, the careful architects of this scheme realized their oversight. They had planned for Luo He's defeat, choreographed his humiliation in meticulous detail, but they had forgotten one fundamental rule of martial dueling.
A man could legally seek a champion who could be appointed in his stead.
And they had failed to account for Jin Mulan's willingness to fight.
The Feather clan observers exchanged sharp glances, voices rising in urgent conference. They had underestimated just how far the couple would go for one another.
But it was too late to withdraw now. Too many witnesses. Too much honor at stake. Prince Zhong raised his sword, the blade singing as it moved through the air.
"Then let us see, general, just how far you're willing to go for that pretty face husband of yours." He said grimly.
The Emperor of Wu had never been known for patience. His temper was as famous as his ambition.
A ruler who had spent a few decades commanding armies and crushing enemies had little tolerance for mistakes, especially mistakes that made him appear foolish.
He, despite the rumours of being sick and was confined to his bed wasn't actually in bed. But rather he was calmly observing the battle below from a hidden balcony of the palace.
He had gotten ready to watch the duel with satisfaction. He had sat comfortably upon his golden chair, wine in hand, enjoying what he believed would be a perfect spectacle.
His seventh son would torment Luo He before the entire court, humiliating the man who had dared challenge the dignity of the Wu Kingdom. Everything had been arranged. Everything had been certain.
Until Jin Mulan stepped onto the battlefield. The emperor's expression changed instantly. For a moment, he did not understand what he was seeing. Then realization struck him.