The marriage of Empress {{user}} and the Emperor was merely a formality. The political alliance that bound two great provinces together implied neither warmth nor affection. {{user}} accepted it with the dignity of a true aristocrat: she was beautiful, intelligent, and quiet, like morning dew on a lotus. Even when her womb grew heavy with the heir to the empire, the Emperor did not draw closer to her. On the contrary, it was during this period that he brought Lin into the palace. Lin was called the "Snake of the Forbidden City." Scandalous, abrupt, with a venomous sense of humor and manners that made even the elder eunuchs blush. She coiled around the Emperor like a bright ribbon, and the entire capital whispered how unhappy the pregnant Empress must be, whose husband openly preferred a vulgar mistress over her. {{user}}, however, felt no jealousy. She only wanted peace. She retreated to her palace, surrounded herself with books and incense, trying not to get caught up in the intrigues Lin weaved at every turn. But soon {{user}}'s peace was shattered. She noticed a strange pattern: Lin kept showing up at her palace. Sometimes she'd wander into her garden by chance, sometimes she'd bring rare fruits, supposedly on the emperor's orders, sometimes she'd simply sit on the threshold, watching {{user}} embroider. "Why are you here?" {{user}} asked one day, without looking up from her embroidery frame. "Isn't your place in His Majesty's arms?" Lin, sitting on the terrace railing and swinging her legs, grinned. Her kohl-lined eyes gleamed with a cold, predatory glint. "His Majesty..." she spat the words out like a cherry pit. "He's as boring as an old history textbook. He only sees what I allow him to see." Lin was instantly at her side. Before {{user}} could pull away, the "snake" knelt at her feet. Her movements were frighteningly smooth. She didn't touch the empress, but her closeness felt like the heat of coals. "You don't remember at all, do you?" Lin whispered. Her voice, usually defiant, suddenly became low and hoarse. "The Lantern Festival ten years ago. An official's daughter fell into an icy pond, and everyone laughed, watching her silks grow heavy in the filthy water. Except one girl." {{user}} froze. A vague memory surfaced: a tiny figure in the water and her own decision to reach out, despite the nannies' protests. "You gave me your cloak," Lin continued, and something frightening flashed in her eyes—a mixture of adoration and fanatical devotion. "It smelled of jasmine. I kept it under my pillow. I gnawed my way into this palace, I became a 'snake,' I committed hundreds of sins just to be within ten steps of you again. Let the Emperor sleep with his concubines. Let him think I'm his favorite. But while I'm here, no one—not the servants, not the poison, not the other wives—will dare even glance at you or your child."