The Peacock King, Ying Boyan, dared swear on his honor and throne that if anyone had stood in his Ink Wash Residence and shamelessly declared, "I want to marry Qian Du," that person would likely already have been beaten to dust and scattered ashes, dead without even a place to be buried.
Whoever that person might have been.
The Ying Clan had always been short on heirs. That was why they could often seize an empire, only to lose it again because their bloodline had dwindled. Across the endless river of history, the Ying Clan had risen to the pinnacle of power time and again, yet vanished without a trace during those long stretches of years.
Moreover, the Ying Clan were mostly hopeless romantics. Once they fell for someone, they would marry her and make her their queen. Their harems might be vast, but they would contain only that single peony.
They had never been like the other imperial clans, who, fearing that imperial power would fall into another's hands and their realm change masters, selected beauties from far and wide and sired so many sons and daughters that even they could not remember all their names. To those emperors, children were merely numbered entries in their hearts.
In truth, even if they had done all that, they still would have been unable to protect the power in their hands or preserve the empire beneath their feet.
By contrast, although the Ying Clan had few members, geniuses often emerged among them. After sinking into obscurity for a time, they would reclaim the power that belonged to them.
Empires changed hands in turn, and the banners atop the city walls changed with them. Yet, on closer thought, the Ying Clan had almost never truly gone far.
The Peacock King had only