Late Autumn, 1897 — Somewhere in the Eastern Provinces of the Empire
The house did not rejoice when he was born.
The autumn wind howled outside the manor like an omen, rattling the plum trees until petals scattered like broken prayers. Inside the grand chamber, the midwife moved in panicked silence. Blood soaked the silk sheets like spilled ink, and the wails of a woman echoed off walls too used to silence.
Lady Mei-lan gripped the edge of the bedding, sweat clinging to her brow, her hair undone, her lips trembling—not from the pain of labor, but from the fear of what came next.
And when it was over—when the child was placed in her arms, tiny and still, his mouth open but no cry coming—her heart sank.
He did not cry.
He did not make a sound.
And so, the silence began.
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He was a boy born into a dynasty that valued perfection.
The Zhang family line had endured for centuries—aristocrats of old blood, iron traditions, and unbreakable rules. His father, Lord Zhang Wuyuan, believed in strength, honor, and the power of voice. A son born without it… was a humiliation too great to name.
"She shamed our name," they whispered behind the scroll-covered screens.
"Silenced by heaven itself," others said.
The physician diagnosed him as deaf within weeks. Mute followed. No tears. No laughter. No babbling. Nothing.
To the household, he became a ghost born alive.
And so, at only three months old, he was hidden.
Behind the red-lacquered doors of the west wing—a part of the mansion long abandoned—he was raised out of sight, like a shameful secret.
But his mother never left him.
Lady Mei-lan, once the bright jewel of courtly life, faded from public view the same day she birthed him. Her robes grew simpler. Her smile thinner. Yet every night, she sat beside her son's crib, humming lullabies he could never hear.
And still, she loved him.
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Years passed.
He grew. Learned to walk with bare feet across tatami floors. To mimic expressions. To sense footsteps through vibrations in the wood. The world to him was light and texture and silence—a kaleidoscope without sound.
He did not know he was different, not yet.
Not until he met her.