A MARRIAGE OF SILENCE

Queen An Ruoxi waited in the private sitting room reserved for royal family only.

The room was modern and elegant—soft lighting, neutral tones, glass walls overlooking the palace garden below. Everything was carefully designed to look warm. Nothing in it truly was.

She stood when the door opened.

“Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head with practiced grace.

Wang Yibo entered and stopped a few steps away. He did not move closer. He did not reach for her. His posture was flawless, his expression distant, as if she were a minister rather than a wife.

“You asked to see me,” he said.

Ruoxi studied his face. She had been doing so for years, searching for something that never appeared. Affection. Desire. Even irritation would have been preferable to this emptiness.

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks,” she said calmly. “The council is beginning to notice.”

Wang Yibo’s gaze did not change.

“Let them.”

A faint crease appeared between her brows. “They expect an heir. Expectations are not optional—for either of us.”

Silence stretched between them.

Outside the glass, the garden lights flickered on, illuminating paths meant for shared walks that had never happened.

“This marriage was never about us,” Wang Yibo said at last. His voice was cool, controlled. “You knew that when you accepted the crown.”

Ruoxi’s fingers tightened at her side. “And you knew I would fulfill my duty,” she replied. “I have done everything required of me as an Omega Queen.”

He acknowledged that with a slight nod.

“Which is why you remain Queen.”

Not wife.

Not beloved.

Queen.

She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I wonder if there is anything in this palace that still reaches you.”

For the briefest moment—so brief she almost missed it—something flickered in his eyes.

Not warmth.

Not guilt.

Something unreadable.

Then it vanished.

“You called me here,” Wang Yibo said, redirecting the conversation with surgical precision. “If there is nothing else, I will return to my duties.”

Ruoxi looked at him, really looked—this man who ruled millions, who stood untouched by bonds that governed everyone else.

“There is someone, isn’t there?” she asked softly.

The room went still.

Wang Yibo did not react. Not outwardly. But the air felt heavier, like pressure before a storm.

“No,” he said.

It was not a lie in the way people expected lies to sound.

It was simple. Flat. Final.

Ruoxi held his gaze, then lowered her eyes.

“Very well,” she said. “You may go.”

The King turned and left without another word.

Behind him, the door closed quietly.

Queen An Ruoxi remained standing long after, staring at the reflection in the glass—an Omega Queen with a crown, a title, and a husband whose heart existed somewhere she would never reach.

And far from the palace, in a life that had not yet been touched by royal hands, Xiao Zhan woke before dawn, tied his long hair back, and prepared for another day of work—unaware that the King had already begun to pull the world into alignment around him.

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