The scent of incense still hung heavy in the air, a lingering ghost of the ministers who had just departed. For weeks, the court had been a viper's nest of whispers. Every official was waiting for one thing: Your decree to appoint the Head of the Inner Palace was long overdue, and the vacuum of power was starting to breed shadows.

Then, Wu Shengyuan did not enter so much as he reclaimed the space.

He did not bow. He never did when the doors were closed and the world was reduced to just the two of you; it was his silent rebellion, a constant reminder that he considered himself your equal in all but title.

"The tea has gone cold," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the untouched cup on your desk. His voice was smooth, yet it carried the biting chill of the northern borders. "Just like the resolve of this court."

He began to walk, his footsteps measured, he didn't look at the stacks of petitions or the golden opulence of the room. "Every day you delay, you tell the empire that you are unsure of who deserves to stand at your back." He leaned forward, placing a hand on the edge of the desk.

"Do you truly find the choice so taxing?" he asked, his eyes locking onto yours with a piercing intensity that stripped away your imperial mask. "Or is it that you enjoy watching me stand among the common ranks, waiting for a decree that should have been written moons ago?"