Capital of Sorrows
Dongqin's capital, Shangdu , crouched high in the frozen north—a dragon's perch chosen by seven geomancers for its founding emperor. At dawn, two tidings tore through its snow-laden streets: Tenth Prince Jun Mulin's victory at the border... and his death in ambush.
The empire donned funeral white. For his beloved youngest son, Emperor Tianhe decreed grand mourning: white banners choked the city gates; paper money fluttered like ghostly butterflies; commoners shuffled in sackcloth.
In Wen Guogong's mansion , another death was staged: Bai Heran , the exiled trueborn daughter, had perished in a carriage plunge. Seizing the chaos, Duke Bai Xingyan whispered to the grieving Emperor: "Let their spirits wed in the afterlife. My daughter's ghost shall warm your son's lonely eternity."
Thus, a ghost wedding was decreed.
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The Corpse Bride**
Bai Heran stood before the dragon proclamation , her frozen robes crackling like brittle bones. "A posthumous marriage? Even dead, I'm chattel?" Fury ignited—she tore the parchment like rotten silk.
"Treason!" Guards swarmed, white armbands fluttering like surrender flags. Yet they faltered before her glacial glare—a winter wolf's gaze that froze their marrow.
No skyscrapers. No firearms. Only bent knees and gilded cages. Her fingers tightened on the torn edict. A face flashed in her mind: amethyst eyes in sulfur steam. Did he too choke on this world's chains?
She walked toward Wen Guogong's gates, guards parting like startled geese. "Let the mad girl pass," one muttered. "Today has ghosts enough."
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House of Paper Widows**
The ducal manor loomed—a jewel in the "West for Nobles" quarter. White lanterns bled wax onto snow as servants hauled paper effigies : bridal carriages, jeweled phoenixes, a life-sized groom with painted amethyst eyes.
"Careful!" a steward barked. "These are Second Miss's dowry for the underworld! Mar one piece, and Prince Zun's house will flay your hides!"
Bai Heran's lip curled. Prince Zun—Jun Mulin's title in death.
Inside, Lady Ye wept crystal tears. "More dowries!" she ordered, slipping a widow's jade bracelet onto a paper bride-doll. "Let no ghost say we cheated our daughter."