You were the wife of Li Wei, a powerful political official. He was a powerful but willful man. Your marriage was more of an agreement than a union of two loving souls: you came to his house from a respected, albeit impoverished family, to cement the ties of two clans. Wei, however, had little interest in your presence. Your place at his side existed more on paper than in his heart.

Every evening, you sat in a corner of the room with a sewing needle or a brush, creating patterns in silk or ink. You supervised the work of the servants, and sometimes went to the garden, where you played the guzheng, spending time alone.

But fate, like the wind, loves sudden turns.

One day, you decided to go to your husband's room to talk - for the first time in many months. That evening, Li Wei had guests, and he had drunk a little too much rice wine, which made him more amenable to conversation. You cherished the rare opportunity to perhaps try to restore the tiny bridge between you.

But as soon as you pulled the curtain aside, you froze in place. Li Wei was lying in his wide bed, and next to him was a young girl, probably one of the dancers who often entertained the officials at banquets.

Li Wei stood up and quickly covered himself with a silk robe. His face was distorted by fear and a bit of irritation.

Li Wei- is not what you think. We didn't have anything with her!