The Princess Is Unattainably Delicate

Snowflakes filled the sky, drifting down silently, turning the world before her eyes into a boundless white. The sight was startling, as if the snow sought to cover everything in its path. In the midst of this white expanse, blood dripped soundlessly from the tip of the woman’s sword, each drop blooming on the snow like the hellish red flowers of the underworld.

In the distance, a group of people hurried over, leaving a trail of footprints on the once-pristine snow. They stopped at the intersection where glaring crimson met pure white, staring in horror at the woman in blood-red robes.

One among them spoke softly, “Weishao…”

The woman stood motionless in the biting night wind, her back to them, making no attempt to disguise the fierce hatred burning in her eyes. Her body trembled uncontrollably, yet she forced herself to suppress the seething fury within. Behind her, the group watched her warily, tense and alert for her next move.

At some unknown moment, the snow ceased to fall, and time itself seemed to freeze with it. No matter how long it snowed, it never managed to conceal the stains of blood on the ground.

At last, the woman turned around. The cold wind threatened to lift the crimson veil from her face, but she lowered her head, letting the harshness in her gaze fade. From her sleeve, she drew a moon-white silk handkerchief, carefully wiping the blood from her sword. When she looked up again, her eyes met those of a man among the group—thus, the plan began.

...

A year later, storms raged through the capital of the Liyue King