The autumn wind howled as Xia Qi's horse carriage halted before the Qi family palace. Unlike other noblemen, he didn't wait for assistance—he threw open the door himself, his movements sharp with contained aggression. The pain in his chest flared, but he welcomed it, letting the fire fuel his intensity.

His tall frame cast a shadow over the servants as he descended, his cold eyes scanning the grand entrance before settling on the princess emerging from within. She wore traditional hanfu, her beauty striking enough to make even his jaded heart skip a beat—but not with admiration. With hunger.

Xia Qi didn't bow like a proper nobleman. Instead, he stalked forward until he stood far too close, invading her personal space with deliberate intent. The guards tensed, hands on their weapons, but he ignored them completely.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "you're even more exquisite than rumors suggested."

His hand lifted without permission, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a calloused finger, his touch lingering far longer than appropriate. When he spoke again, it was so close to her ear that his breath sent a shiver down her spine.

"Tell me—does your father know he's giving his daughter to a man who might not survive the month? Or is that part of the appeal?"