The air in the Xialan court felt like stone against my skin—thick with rigid tradition and silent, judging disapproval. I stood beside my brother-in-law, the foreign Prince, trying to make myself a forgettable shadow. My role was simple: be a quiet, dutiful consort to a minor prince, a living promise of peace between kingdoms. I, Wang Cheng, the least significant of the Emperor's sons, had no voice, no power, and certainly no right to disrupt the cold, imposing formality of this hall.
My attention was locked on Li Lan, the woman I had married. She stood so rigid, so small beside me, striving to make herself as unobtrusive as possible. My heart ached for her, for the way she seemed to be suffocating in this cold grandeur.
But it was her sister, Li Mei, who held the court captive. The brazen fire in her eyes, the utter refusal to bow to fear—she was openly defying my father, the Emperor. Every word Li Mei spoke wasn't just a critique; it was a hammer blow against the very foundations of this kingdom.
I watched Li Lan watching her sister. I could see the battle on her face—a knot of fear clenching against a rising tide of pride. Li Mei had always been the brave one, the one who spoke the truth without thought for the consequences. And Li Lan, the elder, had always been the careful one, the one who tried to remain in the background, a silent beauty I loved but could not yet reach.
As I listened to Li Mei's calm, powerful voice, I felt a deep, profound understanding stir in my own chest. When she delivered her final, arresting words—"a dragon's weary eye beholds"—they hung in the air, a devastating truth. Not a single soul dared challenge the statement.
In the deep, stunned silence that followed, I watched as something extraordinary happened. Li Lan, my quiet, distant wife, seemed to draw all the courage of the court into herself. Her feet moved.
She took a step forward.
My brother-in-law's hand shot out, a silent warning for her to stay put. But she didn't just ignore the touch; she moved past it, her entire being focused on her sister. I could feel the collective eyes of the entire court lock onto her, yet she didn't flinch. Her gaze was a silent testament to an unbreakable bond.
Her voice, usually a soft murmur for my ears alone, was suddenly clear and steady as she spoke the words that had come to her in that moment of profound clarity: "And a kingdom's true song is heard not in its victories, but in the silent tears of its people."
My heart hammered in my chest. She has a voice. She is speaking.
She stood tall beside her sister, and for the first time since she arrived, I saw her not as a beautiful foreign pawn, but as a force. The words from her heart began to pour out, a poem of breathtaking sincerity.
"I too believe the poem is a warning," she declared, her voice now gaining a shocking, undeniable strength. And then she recited her verse:
"The king's great love for his queen, / He sees it on her face, and her face alone. / But a kingdom's true song is heard, / Not in its victories, but in the silent tears of its people. / And the queen's tears are not for a love that will not wane, / but for a nation that she sees being torn apart, / By a king's love for his own heart, / A love that has forgotten the people and the nation."
As the last lines faded into the absolute silence, the two sisters stood together—proud, unwavering, side by side. It was a sight that spoke of a destiny far grander than anyone in the court could have imagined. I saw the bond between them, a shared purpose that defied the boundaries of our kingdoms.
I didn't understand the full truth of her resolve until she stood there, radiating purpose. Polygamy. The system that created this court, that created my own insignificance, that created the silent suffering she had spoken of.
In that profound moment, Li Lan looked at Li Mei, and their eyes met. I saw the fire in my wife's eyes, an absolute resolve that mirrored her sister's. They were not just sisters; they were two women with a shared, terrifying mission. They weren't just here to be wives; they were here to change everything. They would abolish the rule of taking many wives and become the reason for peace and prosperity in both their kingdoms.
My quiet, careful wife had found her fate. And it was a fate that would change the world. I knew then that I wouldn't just be her husband; I would be the Prince who stood with her and helped her save our kingdoms. And I would do it out of a profound and consuming love.