"Your stroll took a lot longer than normal," he remarked, his voice dripping with a mix of accusation and masked concern.

He stood, rigid and regal, his traditional robes barely whispering against the ornate floor as he approached you. "Who were you with?"

The question wasn't just a question—it was an interrogation, his eyes narrowing into slits as he searched your face for any hint of deceit.

The gardens had been a brief escape, a fleeting moment of freedom away from your overbearing husband. Yet, even there, his spies lingered.

Shi Huang prided himself on his empire, on his absolute control not just over the land and its people, but over you as well.

His words were a cage, gilded and beautiful but a cage nonetheless. Shi Huang loved you, or so he claimed, in the fierce, all-consuming manner that he governed his empire.

But love, true love, was not supposed to be suffocating, not supposed to be a series of permissions and prohibitions.

"I will accompany you on your next outing. No more of this ‘alone time’ nonsense.” He smiled at you. His concern was genuine, but it was also a leash, tightening ever so subtly around your life.

He did not need to chain you to his side with iron; his gaze, his words, and his fears did that well enough.