A Noble Night.1

On the seventeenth day of Frosty Moon, the night sky over the capital city seemed to have been sliced ​​open by an ice blade, revealing dark golden veins within.

Twelve gilded silver mirrors hang from the dome of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, breaking the moonlight into countless feathers that fall onto the snow-white marble like a silent snowfall.

Tonight is the "Rosefire" ball—which the nobles privately call "the night of choosing a bride."

Only on this one night does the emperor allow his underage heirs to appear in public and tacitly permit them to choose their future betrothed.

Yu Chen stood at the end of the Mirrored Corridor, her fingertips holding the invitation card, the dark red tuft at the end of her hair like a piece of embers that refused to go out.

She counted; there were 108 mirrors in the corridor, and each one reflected her slightly trembling shoulders.

"Don't be afraid." Sheng Shuo's voice came from behind her, low and steady, like an invisible wall.

He wore the black and gold uniform of the Imperial Military Academy, with sharp shoulder lines that made his platinum blonde short hair look even colder.

Yu Chen didn't turn around, but only looked at him in the mirror—

They had been childhood sweethearts for ten years, and this was the first time he had looked at her with that kind of gaze:

It's not about protecting, it's about possessing.

As the first drumbeat fell, the bronze door opened from the inside.

The nobles synchronized their breathing and bowed in greeting.

The emperor was not present, nor was the empress; only a bouquet of red roses was placed on the throne.

It was a symbol of promise: whoever possessed it could propose to any unmarried girl present, and no one could refuse.

Yu Chen looked up and saw Ans Anyi.

He stood at the top of the spiral staircase, his 195cm height causing the lights to fall on his shoulders first, as if crowning him.

The boy wore a snow-white military uniform with the Anse family's Ice Iris emblem pinned to his collar. A silver chain hung from his epaulets to his waist, swaying with each step and releasing tiny stardust.

He looked down at the crowd, but his gaze pierced through the sea of ​​people and landed on the fiery red ends of Yu Chen's hair.

In that instant, Yu Chen heard her heartbeat go off track—

Like an ice lake bursting open.

Vitrali Schauwei arrived last.

She wore a long, jet-black trench coat with a high collar that reached her chin, and her white shirt peeked out from the cuffs, as if she were draped in the night.

Her 186cm height made her step into the cracks of human voices with every step, and the hall suddenly fell silent.

The women whispered among themselves:

"She's not wearing a dress?"

"...She wouldn't even touch her skirt."

Xiao Wei ignored him, his gaze sweeping over the roses on the throne, then over Yu Chen, and finally stopping behind An Yi, a barely perceptible hint of coldness curving his lips.

She was always aloof, but tonight a dark fire burned in her eyes—

The fire only shone on one person.

The first game of the ball was "hide-and-seek in the mirror".

The twelve silver mirrors were covered with black silk, and the lights were turned off, leaving only a faint blue glow.

The nobles had to hold the hand of their "destined" one and walk to the throne before they could unveil the black silk.

If you pick the wrong rose, you will lose your chance to compete for the rose.

The instant darkness descended, Yu Chen was grabbed by three hands simultaneously—

A warm, calloused figure—that is Sheng Shuo.

A cold, bony figure, that is An Yi;

One of them, wearing a black sheepskin glove, is Xiao Wei.

Neither of them let go.

Yu Chen heard her own heartbeat amplified in the darkness, like a war drum.

She remembered when she was ten years old, she fell into an icy lake, and Sheng Shuo jumped in after her and pulled her ashore, but he himself got a high fever for three days.

When she was thirteen, An Yi tucked the only snow iris behind her ear and said, "It's like you, not afraid of the cold."

She recalled that when she was fifteen, Xiao Wei shielded her from an arrow that missed the target at the shooting range. Blood seeped from his shoulder and back, but he smiled and said, "Don't cry, I'm fine."

Three pairs of hands, three different temperatures, three different periods of time—

She owes them both.

When the lights came back on, everyone saw a bizarre scene:

Yu Chen's left hand was tightly held by Sheng Shuo, and her right hand was held by An Yi, while Xiao Wei stood behind her, with one arm around her shoulder, as if encircling her in his shadow.

Black silk fluttered down, and the mirror reflected the overlapping shadows of four people, like a rose bush growing side by side, with thorny stems and blood-red flowers sharing a single branch.

The hall was so quiet that you could hear the candle wicks popping.

The Queen's voice, which had been behind the curtain, finally rang out, tinged with a smile: "It seems our little princess is quite popular."

She paused, then added, "But there's only one rose."

The second dance is the duel dance.

Anyone who desires the rose must decide the victor through a sword dance.

The sword was not yet sharpened, but it was coated with a layer of "blood reflection"—blood would be visible upon contact with it, and it could not be faked.

Sheng Shuo was the first to take off his gloves and raise his sword to An Yi: "I've always wanted to fight you."

An Yi smiled, the Ice Iris badge flashing coldly under the light: "I couldn't ask for more."

Xiao Wei didn't speak, but took off his trench coat, revealing a white shirt and black vest underneath, with a slender sword at his waist.

She looked at Yu Chen, her voice low but clear: "If I win, you'll come with me."

Yu Chen tried to speak, but no sound came out—

For the first time, she realized that she was not the prize being fought over.

Rather, it was the spark that ignited the storm.

The drumbeats quickened, and three swords were drawn simultaneously.

Sheng Shuo's swordplay was like an avalanche, heavy and fast;

An Yi's sword is like a glacier, thin and cold;

Xiao Wei's sword was like the night, silent yet fraught with danger.

Amidst the clanging of metal, Yu Chen saw red threads unfurling one after another on their cuffs—

Blood Reflected.

She suddenly realized that this duel had no referee.

The only way to end it is for someone to fall down.

She lifted her skirt, stepped barefoot onto the marble, and the fiery red streak at the end of her hair fluttered in the wind.

Before the third line of blood splattered, she rushed into the fray and grabbed three swords with her bare hands—

The palm was cut by the "Blood Reflection" and blood dripped down between the fingers like a string of red beads.

That's enough.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it made the temperature in the entire hall drop sharply.

I will not give the rose to anyone.

She turned and walked to the throne, plucked the red rose, and the fiery red of her hair blended with the petals.

"I want to crown myself."

The Queen clapped her hands softly behind the curtain, her laughter like the tinkling of silver bells: "Interesting."

The emperor's voice finally rang out, deep and aged: "Then, according to the ancient covenant,"

The person who rejects all marriage proposals must bear the 'oath of solitude'.

"In this lifetime, I shall never again accept a marriage proposal from any nobleman."

Yu Chen looked up at the high platform. Blood was still dripping, but her smile was more radiant than a rose: "I accept."

Sheng Shuo, An Yi, and Xiao Wei simultaneously sheathed their swords, and the blood droplets on their wrists rolled down, pooling into a dark puddle.

They looked at her, not with anger, but with the same almost reverent gaze—

Like watching a newly born moon,

Knowing it's unattainable, I still wish to be the night sky embracing her.

The ball ended, and the frosty moon sank into the sky.

The bronze doors of the Hall of Supreme Harmony slowly closed, locking the sighs and exclamations of the nobles into a magnificent cage.

Outside the palace, snow began to fall.

Yu Chen stepped barefoot onto the jade steps. Behind her, Sheng Shuo took off his uniform jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

An Yi handed her a snow-white handkerchief and wrapped it around her palm.

Xiao Wei opened a black umbrella and silently held it above her head.

Snowflakes landed on the three people's shoulders, instantly turning into mist, like a confession that didn't have time to land.

Yu Chen looked up and saw a line of small characters engraved on the umbrella ribs:

May you live a fulfilling and honest life.

She suddenly smiled, the fiery red tuft at the end of her hair swaying gently in the snowy night—

Like a rose flame that refuses to go out.

Many years later, the legend of that night, "Rose Fire," still circulates in the capital:

A young girl stopped the war with her bare hands, making a pact with blood.

He rejected three of the most promising heirs.

They also refused to accept their assigned fate.

She left the Imperial Palace and disappeared into the snowy night.

No one has seen her in a formal dress since.

Only on certain frosty, moonlit nights,

Someone saw three figures standing side by side on the city wall—

One had blond hair, one had a silver badge, and one wore black—

They were looking in the same direction.

It was as if a cluster of fiery red still lingered there.

In the endless night,

Burning alone.