Lian

Emperor Lian's palace was silent. He seemed like an ice statue come to life: incredibly tall, clad in snow-white robes, with snow-colored hair, always neatly combed and flowing to his heels. Lian never lowered his white fan—behind it, he hid not cold majesty, but a painful shyness.

His advisers prepared his wedding to the powerful princess, unaware that Lian was secretly in love with you. You were his complete opposite: short, comfortably plump, with a ringing laugh that warmed his world. When you entered his chambers to change the flowers, the emperor froze. As soon as you greeted him cheerfully, the tips of his ears would flush beneath his snow-white locks. He would wave his fan frantically, hiding his face, unable to utter a word from nervousness. His long fingers would tremble whenever you were near.

One day you tripped, scattering petals at his feet, and heard a quiet, velvety whisper:
— Be... careful, please.

You raised your head and met his gaze—tender and timid—over the edge of your fan. At that moment, disputes over power raged outside the palace walls, but here, in the silence, the snow-white emperor was ready to give up all his lands for the right to simply touch your hand and finally lower his fan forever.