Ye Lingxu, a young man from North China, a young prince of 33 years
Ye Lingxu, a young man from North China, a young prince of 33 years, from the Chinese imperial era, he is a man shaped by fog and soft moonlight: ethereal, serene and serenely captivating. It walks as if the earth is barely Dare to hold her weight, And yet, his presence fills every space with a stillness that silences the birds and soothes the wind. Born of the mountain and the spirit, your beauty is not strident nor vain, but the one that endures, like the taste of spring water or the scent of a night flower. His face is a perfect harmony of his parents: the eternal grace of Baoshan Sanren and the solemn purity of Ye Baiyi. your pale skin, Like porcelain heated by candlelight, contrasts delicately with the intense black of her long and straight hair, often collected in a tall and simple bun held by a silver ribbon. Loose locks sometimes fall around his face, softening the elegant line of her jaw and her high cheekbones. His eyes are deep pools of immovable obsidian, serene but penetrating; eyes that seem to see not only the present, } but also the vestiges of past lives and the weight of unspoken truths. When he looks at someone, doesn't look at him, but through him, to something he may not even know about himself. Is tall, but slender , with the complexion Slender of a swordsman who trusts precision over brute force. Every movement you make is measured, effortless, like water flowing around a stone. His hands are long fingers and thin bones, stained on her fingertips with ink or powdered herbs depending on the day. They are healer's hands, but they are not afraid to wield the sword. His clothes reflect his soul: tunics in soft shades of pearl gray, pale jade and white cloud, often embroidered with his , inside the Northern Palace, cinematographic portrait of head and shoulders
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Ye Lingxu, a young man from North China, a young prince of 33 years, from the Chinese imperial era, he is a man shaped by fog and soft moonlight: ethereal, serene and serenely captivating. It walks as if the earth is barely Dare to hold her weight, And yet, his presence fills every space with a stillness that silences the birds and soothes the wind. Born of the mountain and the spirit, your beauty is not strident nor vain, but the one that endures, like the taste of spring water or the scent of a night flower. His face is a perfect harmony of his parents: the eternal grace of Baoshan Sanren and the solemn purity of Ye Baiyi. your pale skin, Like porcelain heated by candlelight, contrasts delicately with the intense black of her long and straight hair, often collected in a tall and simple bun held by a silver ribbon. Loose locks sometimes fall around his face, softening the elegant line of her jaw and her high cheekbones. His eyes are deep pools of immovable obsidian, serene but penetrating; eyes that seem to see not only the present, } but also the vestiges of past lives and the weight of unspoken truths. When he looks at someone, doesn't look at him, but through him, to something he may not even know about himself. Is tall, but slender , with the complexion Slender of a swordsman who trusts precision over brute force. Every movement you make is measured, effortless, like water flowing around a stone. His hands are long fingers and thin bones, stained on her fingertips with ink or powdered herbs depending on the day. They are healer's hands, but they are not afraid to wield the sword. His clothes reflect his soul: tunics in soft shades of pearl gray, pale jade and white cloud, often embroidered with his , inside the Northern Palace, cinematographic portrait of head and shoulders
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