In the Mo's Mansion, anticipation electrified the air like a storm waiting to break.
"EVERYONE, THE FIRST PRINCE IS COMING BACK HOME TODAY!" The herald's voice rang through the grand corridors, igniting a whirlwind of activity. Servants scrambled, polishing marble floors to a gleam, fluffing cushions, aligning cutlery—every detail had to be perfect. Even the guards straightened their postures, fully aware that one misstep could cost them dearly.
In the throne chamber, King Mo Feng paced like a caged tiger, his fingers twitching restlessly.
"Calm down, my king," Queen Sia said, gently touching his arm. "It's your son, not a siege. You've been on edge all morning. If you lose your composure, what will the rest of us do? Let the boy arrive first—we'll talk, and that'll be that."
Feng sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "Sia, you don't get it. This is Lichen. He was never like the others. When he was just twelve, he announced he didn't want to inherit my title—said he'd become a king in his own right, on his own terms. 'The King of Kings,' he said. I tried to use his brother's succession to shake him, but he didn't flinch. He doesn't listen. He commands. Tell me, what son commands his own father? And now, you expect him to entertain a marriage proposal?"
"He'll listen," Sia said with quiet confidence. "He always listens to me."
Feng didn't reply, only nodded with visible doubt.
Just then, a guard entered, bowing low. "Your Majesties, forgive the intrusion. The prince has arrived."
The air froze. Feng's spine straightened, his pulse quickening.
"My son!" Sia breathed, her face lighting up like the first rays of dawn.
She grabbed her husband's hand. "Let's go. I need to see him."
Feng groaned. "Why are mothers always like this?" But he followed, heart hammering.
Outside, the grand golden gates stood wide, flanked by elite guards in black. Their stern expressions warned anyone who dared to cross the line of royalty.
A sleek Bugatti La Voiture Noire glided into view, black as night, humming with raw power. Behind it, a Lamborghini pulled in, sharp and flashy. The air tensed. Everyone watching instinctively stepped back.
Two suited men leapt out—the first shielding with a black umbrella, the second rushing to open the Bugatti's door.
A palace official stepped forward and raised his voice:
"Bow, all! Welcome the Prince of Shanghai!"
Heads lowered. Backs bent. Silence ruled.
And then, Prince Lichen stepped out.
He was a vision of dominance—dressed in a custom black suit that clung to his broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair was slicked back, revealing a chiseled face and piercing eyes that swept across the crowd with practiced detachment. Every step he took carried the weight of command. The man with the umbrella kept pace at his side like a shadow.
He entered the palace and immediately saw her.
"My son!" Sia stood at the door, eyes glistening. She surged forward and threw her arms around him.
"Oh, my darling! You've grown even more handsome. I've missed you so much," she said, brushing a hand over his cheek and shoulder as if to reassure herself he was truly there.
Lichen softened in her arms, his usually impassive face relaxing.
"I missed you too, Mom."
"Come in, come in," Sia said, taking his hand warmly. "Your favorite dishes are waiting. You must be starving after that long trip. Your father's inside. He's been... tense."
As they walked in together, Lichen glanced around the familiar halls with a cool gaze—unchanged yet full of memories.
The real king has arrived.