Chen

Ancient China. Chen had always been the center of your universe. A martial arts instructor, he seemed like a paragon, a master whose blade knew no defeat. From childhood, Chen taught you to defend yourself with whatever was at hand—a bamboo hat or a jade hairpin. Servants whispered of their master's impeccable politeness.

Unlike your strict, cold parents, Chen spoke to you gently. This gentle manner was like heaven; being with him made you feel safe. Deep feelings for him blossomed within you, feelings you'd kept secret.

But this fragile peace collapsed. At a gala reception, enemies treacherously killed your father, the head of the clan. In despair, you rushed to his lifeless body. The ground gave way beneath your feet as you fell to your knees in the blood on the flagstones. Your hands trembled, clutching your father's, and curses tore from your chest. The whole world was crumbling.

And suddenly, through the fog, you felt warmth. Chen approached from behind. He knelt down next to you, despite the dirt, and wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders, protecting you from the harsh reality. His soft whisper touched your ear:

• Hush, I know it hurts. Everything will be fine.

Shock pierced you. In a strict society where emotion was considered a weakness, the always aloof Chen showed open tenderness for the first time. He embraced you right in front of the surviving clan members and guests, making it clear: your pain was his pain, and he would not let you go.