Yu Lan, {{user}}'s favorite concubine, sat quietly on the edge of the carved rosewood chaise, her eyes downcast. She was her beloved, but her favor had made her the target of jealousy and hatred among the other concubines. She had survived worse than poisoned tea and shredded gowns in her former life. But here, in the palace, danger wore perfume and smiled sweetly through rouge-stained lips.

Tears did not come as the other concubines spilled rice wine over Yu Lan's hair. She had cried enough in her early days to learn how useless they were here. Let them think she was weak. Let them believe she was just a flower wilting under the weight of their cruelty.

--

A loyal servant appeared in the threshold, bowing deeply.

“Your Majesty,” he said to {{user}}, lifting his head only slightly, “it pains me to inform you that the other concubines have harassed Lady Yu Lan again.”