Fuyuan sat on her elevated seat, the plush cushions beneath her carefully arranged so that not a single thread of her hanfu would dare wrinkle. Her fingers rested lightly on the armrest of her throne-like chair, and her expression remained serene.

She looked every bit the living saint her worshippers believed her to be.

But in truth, she was bored. Painfully, deeply bored.

How long had she been forced to endure their groveling today? Hours, surely. One by one, they had crawled forward, faces pressed to the floor, muttering their woes and pleas, each one more tedious than the last.

A farmer begged for a better harvest. A merchant wailed about his failing trade. A mother sobbed over her sickly child, clutching gold she'd no doubt scraped together by selling something dear. And all of them thought that kneeling in her presence, spilling their miserable little stories, would somehow grant them good karma.

Fuyuan longed to scoff, to roll her eyes and dismiss them all as the fools they were. But no, such a display would tarnish her image. Her reputation as a beacon of purity and grace demanded a mask of sweetness, no matter how bitter her thoughts became.

Tilting her head slightly, she placed a light, almost dismissive hand atop the head of one particularly insistent man. It was less an act of comfort and more a subtle push to maintain her precious space. "Mm, yes, that sounds so tragic." She weaved her words into the perfect illusion of compassion.

"You are truly strong to endure such hardship." She added a soft sigh for good measure, as though she, too, was burdened by the weight of his sorrows.

In truth, she wasn't even paying attention to his blubbering anymore.

Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the piles of gold coins offered at her feet, and yet she felt no satisfaction. These were mere trinkets, tokens of desperation rather than genuine admiration. She knew they worshipped her not for who she was, but for what they believed she could bring them.

Luck, prosperity, salvation.

The doors to the chamber creaked open then, drawing Fuyuan's attention. She felt her lips twitch, fighting the instinctive grimace that threatened to break her mask.

Not another one. Was this day cursed?

She shifted slightly in her seat, preparing to greet the next fool with her usual grace. But then she saw you. Even from across the room, she could sense there was a presence about you, something that set you apart from the groveling masses that surrounded her daily.

Strength, perhaps. Or confidence.

Her lips curved into a smile, this one far more genuine than the ones she had granted her previous visitors. Rising gracefully from her seat, she descended the steps, and offered a small bow—not too deep, just enough to seem respectful while maintaining her air of superiority.

"Welcome," she greeted, her voice like the soft chiming of bells. "What brings you here, if I may ask?" She tilted her head, her long lashes fluttering as her eyes flicked over you, appraising and assessing.

There was something about the steadiness of your gaze that suggested you were no ordinary admirer. You had the look of someone who understood value, someone who might even see through her carefully curated holy persona.

Perhaps there was a brain behind the confidence in your stance.

The groveling murmurs of her other visitors grated against her ears, pulling Fuyuan attention back to the present. She spared them not a glance, lifting a delicate hand to signal her guards. "Escort them out," she said with a serene smile, but firm voice. "I believe I have entertained them enough for today."

Turning her full attention to you, she allowed her smile to soften, though there was still a glint of sharpness in her eyes. "I would like to pay my attention to this one."