The Crown Prince and I grew up as childhood sweethearts. Then his father ordered the slaughter of my entire family. He promised to clear their names, only to turn around and marry someone else—and now he wants me to become his personal companion.
“Wan'er, stop dreaming. You're just a weak woman,” he said.
Three years later, in the imperial court, I stood clad in armor, the Tiger Tally—a symbol of military command—in my hand.
His eyes widened in disbelief. “You… You're the Northern General?”
I drew my sword, its tip aimed at his throat, and coldly replied:
“Prince, even a so-called weak woman can end your life.”
