The flames of war in Shang shattered the glass tiles of the royal capital. Power struggles surged like hidden tides over the palace walls, and amid the shifting turmoil, Prince Wuding stumbled into the wilds of a bronze-age tribe. He had once been a nobleman whose fingertips bore the faint scent of ink from the scholar's stone, his brocade-gold robes never creasing as they swept over the palace steps. Yet among the cracked furrows of the fields, his pride was ground into the mud.
Fu Hao had been a sharp blade tempered in a bronze furnace. She never hesitated when her battle axe cleaved through the brambles, and her eyes were as cold as a deep pool. Her initial disdain gave way to curiosity, then admiration, until ripples stirred in her heart and love quietly took root. Watching Wuding's deeds, she gradually came to understand that a benevolent heart held more power than the edge of a battle axe.
Their affection sprouted amid sparks from the bronze foundry and grew in the warmth of smoke rising from the tribe's cooking fires. He melted his enemies' hostility with understanding, while she guarded the people's peace with her battle axe. Their hearts had long since become entwined through every time they stood side by side, forming the strongest bond in an age of chaos. The fiercest flames of war can nurture the tenderest love, and even the coldest blade can be warmed by gentleness, becoming a shield to protect the ones who wield it.
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