Perspective: Zhuge Yu Jin
If the bride his father had chosen for him had been one of those serene, delicate maidens — the type of woman who spent her days with tea, sweets, and idle talk about flowers — Yu Jin wouldn't have hesitated for a second.
He would've declared, before any throne, his total disinterest — and, if necessary, broken the marriage contract with a smile.
Diplomatic consequences?
His brother's problem.
Zhuge Su Yeon could handle that kind of headache — alliances, treaties, formal agreements, all those tedious things Yu Jin considered the true hell of politics.
He, on the other hand, preferred problems that could be solved with a good fight.
And if breaking that engagement happened to strain relations between the Zhuge Empire and the Wu Dynasty… so be it.
Let his elder brother, the great serene monarch, deal with it.
After all, Yu Jin had never been especially fond of his homeland.
Zhuge Island was merely the place where he'd been born — not something he truly called home.
It was cold, quiet, wrapped in a suffocating peace that irritated him more with every visit.
Too much peace always made him restless.
Of course, he didn't wish for his family to be destroyed, nor for the empire to burn in war.
But he also wouldn't lose sleep over it.
Besides, the Wu weren't a real threat.
And the reason was simple: geography.
Even with his limited interest in politics, Yu Jin understood the basics of warfare — and he knew that the path between the Wu Dynasty and Zhuge Island was impossible to cross without provoking the wrath of at least three intermediate empires.
The Wu were an empire of war, yes — but not of madmen.
No sane general would march through foreign lands just to punish a distant clan for breaking an engagement.
And if someone actually tried, they'd die long before reaching the second horizon.
That's why, if his fiancée had been just another gentle northern princess, he would've ended the contract that very day — no regrets, no guilt.
But the problem was, she wasn't a common maiden.
The girl who had entered the throne hall — who walked with her chin lifted and eyes cold as steel — didn't look like someone who needed anyone's protection.
She lacked the ornamental lightness of noble daughters.
She moved like a soldier, breathed like a fighter — and the glint in her eyes carried something he recognized instantly: instinct.
And that changed everything.
Yu Jin had learned, since he was young, that a person's true worth wasn't found in titles or lineage, but in the energy that radiated when they truly believed in themselves.
And that Wu girl… she radiated it.
She seemed carved from ice, but there was fire beneath the surface — a kind of strength that didn't come from power, but from the refusal to be molded.
And that refusal awakened something rare in him: curiosity.
For the first time, Yu Jin didn't see marriage as a prison imposed by fate, but as an opportunity — a chance to observe something he didn't yet understand.
He leaned back slightly, eyes following the young woman's movements as she approached the throne.
The tension between them wasn't polite, nor was it romantic.
It was something more primal — like the moment two beasts lock eyes for the first time, each trying to decide whether the other is prey or challenge.
And in that moment, Yu Jin was certain of one thing:
If this girl was what fate had chosen for him…
then, for now, he saw no reason to fight it.
His curiosity had been lit — and for a man like him, that was enough to postpone rebellion.
But before Yu Jin could even decide what to make of that strange engagement, the situation took a turn no one — not even he — could have predicted.
His fiancée seemed to have reached a conclusion completely different from his.
The heavy silence of the throne hall was broken by the sound of a knee striking the floor.
She knelt before the iron throne — not with submission, but with the composure of someone making a vow before destiny itself.
The motion was clean, controlled, every gesture deliberate.
Red strands of her hair slid over her shoulders, catching the silvery glow of the torches.
Then she lifted her face, meeting the gaze of the man who ruled that empire.
"Father, I ask that you grant me one wish…"
Her voice was firm and clear, not trembling on a single syllable.
A murmur rippled through the hall.
The seven brothers standing behind the throne exchanged subtle glances, surprised by their sister's audacity.
Emperor Wu, however, didn't move.
Only his brows arched slightly — just enough for everyone present to know the gesture had displeased him.
Even so, he gave a small nod — a silent command for her to continue.
She drew a breath, eyes locked on her father's.
"I am a Wu," she said, with a calmness that carried the weight of thunder.
"And as a Wu, I refuse to marry someone weaker than myself."
The echo of her words cut through the hall like the ring of a drawn blade.
The old monk lowered his head, the servants froze mid-breath, and even the air seemed to pause.
She continued:
"I ask permission to fight the Zhuge heir. If I win, I request my freedom from this engagement."
Silence fell — sharp, absolute.
Her brothers glanced at one another — some with shock, others with veiled approval.
The emperor remained still, weighing every word, every gesture, like a general studying a battlefield before deciding whether to advance or withdraw.
Yu Jin, however, felt no anger.
No wounded pride.
In truth, he felt something dangerously close to amusement.
The corners of his mouth curved into a sincere, almost excited smile.
A low chuckle escaped his throat — brief, restrained, but loud enough to echo through the silence.
So she doesn't want this marriage either, he thought, folding his arms.
Looks like we have more in common than I imagined.
He didn't see insolence in what she had done — he saw spirit.
And for a man like Yu Jin, spirit was everything.
Docile women bored him.
But this girl…
this girl was a challenge.
If she wanted a fight, perfect.
He never ran from one — especially not from one that promised to be interesting.
Still, before speaking, he turned his gaze to the throne.
The emperor hadn't moved.
Those green eyes, sharp as blades, were fixed on his daughter — analyzing her with the same cold precision he would give an enemy across the battlefield.
Yu Jin could feel the tension in the air.
The shallow breaths of soldiers, the faint rustle of silk in the distance, the almost imperceptible creak of the throne's iron under the weight of imperial authority.
And that's when he realized — the real test hadn't even begun.
The girl had thrown the first spark onto the ground.
But it was up to the emperor to decide whether it would burn… or be extinguished.
Yu Jin, still smiling, leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing — curious.
Not to see what she would do, but to see what he would say.
The fire in his eyes danced, reflecting the cold green of Emperor Wu's gaze.
Let's see, he thought.
What does a man like you do when your own blood dares to challenge you before the throne?