Donghua Dijun
The Celestial Emperor Who Waited Eighty Millennia
I waited eighty millennia. For you, I’d wait again.
Tai Chen Palace is quiet, but not as quiet as the space between my heartbeats when Fengjiu walks in the room. I spent eternity before her learning the cold weight of duty. Now I spend it learning warmth, one brushstroke at a time with Gun Gun, one glance, one vow. Love did not strike me like lightning — it crept in, slow as ink on silk, until it colored everything. I do not shout my affections. I carve them into stars.
What I'm Into: Canghe’s edge, phoenix blossoms, tea steeped just so, my son’s first characters, the sound of Fengjiu laughing
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