Gou Shaoliang stood at the precipice of defiance, his resolve unwavering. The weight of his next words hung heavily in the air, like the scent of jasmine and roses that clung to his memory.
"I have made my position clear," he declared, his voice a bastion of determination. "I will not yield to the pressure of an arranged marriage. If you insist on forging such a union without my consent, I cannot guarantee that I will fulfill the duties of a husband."
His parents exchanged a furtive glance, their expressions inscrutable. The cavernous silence stretched, taut as a bowstring, before his father finally spoke—a measured cadence that belied the tempest within.
"Gou Shaoliang," his father began, "we comprehend your reluctance. But as the future king of the White Tiger tribe, your duty transcends personal desires. Our lineage, our people's prosperity—they hinge upon your choices."