[A writing exercise, with lots of descriptive prose. If that’s not your thing, don’t read.]
The aloof, fragile immortal, Liu Weichen
× the scheming, possessive Crown Prince Xiao Jue × the stoic, handsome hostage prince Yan Chi, who turns dark × the gentle, deceptively dark disciple Liu Yunyan
Liu Weichen was the coldest, most aloof immortal in the Heavenly Realm. After an accident left him with amnesia, he fell into the mortal world.
The Crown Prince of the Yi Kingdom, Xiao Jue, found him and took him back to the palace. Taking advantage of his lost memories and sealed immortal powers, he lied: “You are my lover.”
Liu Weichen believed him. He lived an ailing, detached life in the palace, often holding a jade-and-bamboo fan as he coughed softly beneath the covered walkway, like a wisp of smoke that might disperse at any moment.
Then he met Yan Chi, a hostage prince from an enemy kingdom who was always being bullied.
The twelve-year-old boy tugged at his sleeve and asked, “Are you a god?”
Liu Weichen did not answer. He simply used what little immortal power he had regained to protect him in secret.
Later, his memories returned and his powers were restored. Liu Weichen became a wisp of smoke and returned to the Heavenly Realm.
Eight years passed in the mortal world.
The tyrannical Emperor Yin Jue had searched for him for eight years, and his bedchamber was covered with portraits of him.
The new emperor of Yan, Yan Chi, conquered lands in every direction, yet late at night he would always run his fingers over an old handkerchief.
And the disciple in the Heavenly Realm who always called him “Master,” Yun Yan, had fallen into darkness from obsession and shattered the rules of the immortals to find him.
When they met again, Liu Weichen was locked inside a palace built to resemble his old home, golden chains chiming at his wrists.
Outside, three factions stood on the brink of battle:
The mortal emperor wanted to imprison his body, the ruler of the enemy kingdom wanted to possess his heart, and his fallen disciple wanted to drag him into eternal night.
Liu Weichen unfolded the jade-and-bamboo fan he never let out of his sight. Ink-wash mountains and rivers flowed beneath the moonlight.
He coughed softly, a faint smile rising on his pale face.
“I am but a mote of dust. I belong neither to the mortal world nor to the Ninth Heaven.”
“Who… could ever hold a wisp of wind captive?”
It's pretty cool. I look forward to Wei Chen's return in the future.