Heaven Dou Empire — Crown Prince's Residence.
Inside the study.
A youth who appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen sat composed behind a wide desk, quill in hand, processing an endless flood of government papers. The documents arranged in neat stacks spoke to the sheer volume of tedious affairs awaiting the Crown Prince.
After being officially named heir to the empire, it was tradition for the emperor to slowly begin delegating lesser routine matters to the prince. It served as training, a way to ease him into the future responsibilities of rule. That said, most of what crossed his desk were dull and trivial—imperial leftovers with none of the real power.
This so-called "Crown Prince" was, of course, not the real Xue Qinghe.
The true Xue Qinghe had vanished years ago—assassinated and replaced by none other than Qian Renxue, undercover heir of Spirit Hall and inheritor of the Angel God's legacy. With the transformation power granted by her divine soul bone, she'd assumed the identity with flawless precision. Even a Titled Douluo wouldn't be able to perceive the deception.
Suddenly, a knock on the study door broke the stillness.
Qian Renxue paused, setting her pen down. Her voice was cold and distant. "Enter."
The door creaked open, revealing a young attendant, head bowed respectfully, holding a letter with both hands. "Your Highness, a reply from Young Master Yunchuan."
At those words, Qian Renxue's steady expression immediately cracked. Her golden eyes brightened, and decorum vanished in an instant.
"Hand it over," she said quickly.
The servant stepped forward, set the letter atop the desk, then silently retreated, closing the door behind him.
Now alone, Qian Renxue wasted no time. She dropped the disguise entirely—her body glowing faintly with golden light.
The illusion of the Crown Prince ripped away.
What remained was the real Qian Renxue.
Her long golden hair draped freely behind her like sunlight, casually unbound yet impossibly enchanting. Her features were exquisite, delicate yet imbued with the dignity of a divine heir. The small seraphim mark between her brows shimmered faintly, while her golden eyes held a commanding brilliance—a beauty as radiant as it was blinding.
In her real form, she looked every bit the girl she truly was—fifteen, maybe sixteen. Young, proud, and breathtaking.
She sat gracefully and held up the letter with trembling fingers, slowly opening it as if revealing a precious treasure.
The writing was as familiar as the hand that sent it—elegant, fluid, strong in its structure. For someone as young as Yunchuan, his penmanship shone with remarkable clarity.
The first line immediately stopped her short:
>「To the most beautiful, most graceful, kindest, and dearest Xue-jie in the world—」
Her cheeks flushed crimson. "This little brat… you're so shameless I'm embarrassed for the both of us," she murmured.
She continued reading.
>「Summer blossoms may be radiant, but none compare to your beauty…」
Her cherry-red lips tightened. "He's still hung up on that last farewell? That was an accident…"
The memory resurfaced—when she'd leaned in to give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek last time. But he had moved at the last second—and her lips had accidentally brushed...
She covered her mouth in remembered horror.
"That was my first kiss...!"
Skipping a few lines, she read on.
>「...no poet can capture your soul, no painter your light. I would become an angel myself, if it meant guarding you forever…」
She let out a tiny huff. "Angel? I'm the angel here! If anything, I'm the one protecting you—"
Qian Renxue abruptly stopped.
Because she realized just what she'd been about to say.
Her fair cheeks darkened like evening clouds. For the daughter of Spirit Hall's strongest woman, bearer of divine inheritance, undercover heir to an empire—this display of girlish softness would've shocked anyone.
She glanced around the room. It was still empty.
She exhaled.
Composing herself, she returned to the letter.
>「It's been two months since you last visited. These past sixty days have felt like sixty years. Only now do I truly understand what the poets meant by 'a day apart, a year of pain.'」
She made a face. "That dramatic, huh?"
But even as she rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugged at her lips.
She kept reading.
>「I think of you beneath the stars. I breathe your name in silence. No matter where I am—if you exist, the world is peaceful.」
>「No matter what the sky looks like, if I can see you—it's a beautiful day.」
>「No matter what I've lost, being with you makes everything worth it.」
>「I want to walk your paths, feel your wind, breathe your air... and if I may—embrace the warmth that's only ever belonged to you.」
Her chest filled with an inexplicable flutter. Every sentence was too sweet, too unguarded—and yet something inside her just… melted.
She re-read the letter.
Then read it again.
By the end, she was hugging it against her chest, golden eyes dreamy, posture slack, heart full. The fatigue from days of political work evaporated like mist in the sun.
The noble-blooded girl who had shouldered the burdens of empire was no longer anywhere in sight.
Now, she resembled nothing more than a teenager in love—lost, light, and helplessly floating in the tide of her own smile.
No—the resemblance wasn't necessary.
She wasn't like a girl enchanted by first love.
She was one.
(End of Chapter)