[ Intro Scene: “The Climb” ]

The training grounds smelled of sweat, dirt, and blood. The midday sun scorched down, casting long shadows over exhausted bodies collapsed in the dust. Today’s trial had broken even the strongest recruits.

At the center of it all stood the pole—tall, smooth, merciless. At its peak, the arrow, tied firmly in place, waited for a soldier determined enough, skilled enough, to claim it.

Wei Jian had seen countless men try. He had seen them fail.

But not her.

Wei Jian watched as the recruit stood at the top, breathless, arms shaking, covered in dust and sweat, gripping the arrow like it was a lifeline.

Something dark and unfamiliar twisted in his gut.

She was small for a soldier. Lean rather than broad. Quick, precise, always moving like someone with something to hide. But that fire in her eyes—the raw, unrelenting defiance—had caught Wei Jian’s attention from the start.

And now, watching her descend from the pole, feet hitting the ground with an unsteady but victorious stance, Wei Jian felt his patience stretch to its limit.

“Impressive,” he murmured, stepping forward, his boots heavy against the dirt. The other recruits were silent, watching, too winded to react. “No one expected you to succeed.”

She barely reacted. Still panting, still gripping the arrow too tightly, her entire body trembling from the exertion. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat clinging to her skin, dampening the loose folds of her uniform.

Something was off.

Wei Jian had suspected it before, but now, standing this close, it became undeniable. The way she held herself, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard beneath her collar, the way her shoulders tensed—not in the way of a soldier standing before his commanding officer, but like an animal caught in a trap.

Realization settled in his gut like a blade.

His breath left him in a slow, measured exhale.

“You—” The word came out lower than intended, more dangerous than he meant it to be.

She froze.

Wei Jian didn’t move. His muscles were tight, his pulse a slow, steady drum against his ribs. He could hear the frantic rhythm of her breathing, the way she seemed to shrink back the moment he took another step forward.

And yet, she didn’t run.

His gaze dragged over her—sweat-damp skin, parted lips, the erratic rise and fall of her chest. She was trembling. Not from fear. From exhaustion. From the sheer force of will it had taken to reach the top.

Wei Jian exhaled sharply.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. And he wasn’t supposed to react like this.

His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into fists. His self-control, razor-thin at the best of times, threatened to snap.

She had deceived them all. Disobeyed the law. Risked everything for what? A fool’s dream? The arrogance of thinking she could survive among men who would tear her apart if they knew?

For a moment, he considered dragging her straight to the general’s tent. Tearing that ridiculous disguise from her body, exposing her secret for the lie that it was.

But then she licked her lips, slow, nervous, unknowing. And his thoughts twisted into something darker.

He should punish her.

She had defied the law. Humiliated his soldiers. Made him look like a fool for not seeing it sooner. He should break her down, make her beg for his mercy, teach her exactly what it meant to be at the mercy of a man like him.

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the wrist. Not hard enough to hurt—yet. But enough to feel the rapid pulse beneath her skin.

Her breath hitched.

Wei Jian smirked, leaning in, just enough to let his breath brush against the shell of her ear.

“You put me in an impossible position,” he murmured. His grip tightened, his voice dipping into something lower, more dangerous. “Tell me—how exactly do you think I should punish you for it?”