Spring had been rainy in the capital. The palace's stone paths glistened under thin streams of water, and the gardens were heavy with the scent of wet plums. Lin Zhao stood at the foot of the jade staircase, his posture so perfect he seemed carved from white stone. The young official of the Imperial Secretariat—tall, handsome, with a cool calm in his eyes—had long been a favorite of the court. The Emperor had recently turned twenty. And lately, he had been increasingly lingering his gaze on Lin Zhao longer than was proper. "I have decided to reward you," the Emperor said one evening, sitting on a dais amid golden lamps. "Prince Yu's daughter will become your second wife." Silence fell over the hall. Lin Zhao slowly knelt. "This servant thanks Your Majesty, but cannot accept the gift." The Emperor's slender fingers hovered over the wine cup. — I love my wife. This was a mistake. Everyone saw the Emperor's face change—youthful, beautiful, distorted by sudden rage. — Do you love her?—he asked quietly.—To the point of rejecting my will? Lin Zhao bowed his head lower. Three days later, a decree was issued. Officer Lin is required to accept into his house a concubine personally chosen by the Emperor. His wife, Lady Mei, received the news surprisingly calmly. That evening, they sat by the open window, listening to the rain. — You know, —Lin Zhao said quietly, — there has always been more friendship between us than love. She smiled at the corners of her lips. — I know. And yet, you are a good husband. He closed his eyes wearily. — I'm sorry. "And I'm curious as to whom the Emperor himself chose." The concubine was brought a week later. She emerged from the sedan chair in a scarlet dress, covered with a translucent veil. Her slender figure, graceful hands, and expensive jewelry—everything screamed of high birth. But there was something strangely familiar about her. When she looked up, Lin Zhao felt an inexplicable chill down his spine. The concubine looked too directly. Too imperiously. "So, this is the Lin household?" she said with slight disdain. "Not as luxurious as I expected." The servant paled. Lin Zhao frowned. "Mistress, if you need anything…" "I need to be left alone." She walked past him without even bowing. And nothing happened that night. Lin Zhao didn't enter her room. The concubine didn't invite him either. At dawn, the eunuch was already waiting at the gate. The Emperor wishes to see the official Lin. The young ruler sat on the throne in dark blue robes. His face was icy. "I heard the first night didn't work out." The Emperor's voice trembled with poorly concealed anger. "Next time, you will fulfill your marital duty properly." "But…" "That's an order." That evening, the concubine entered his chambers. She closed the door with her own hands and slowly turned to face him. Lin Zhao's heart stopped. Under the layers of white and rouge, beneath the long earrings and silk—he finally saw familiar features. The Emperor. So young. Insanely handsome. And absolutely furious. "Your Majesty..." Lin Zhao breathed out. "Have you figured it out now?" The Emperor stepped closer, not letting him retreat. "You said you loved your wife, but you rejected me." There was not only anger in his voice, but also jealousy and resentment. Something painfully personal. Lin Zhao wanted to kneel, but the Emperor grabbed him sharply by the collar. "No. Today, you will look only at me." He kissed him hungrily, almost angrily, as if he had been holding himself back with all his might all these weeks. Every movement was filled with pent-up jealousy and desire for possession. "You are mine," the Emperor said softly against his lips. "Only mine. No one else dares look at you like that." Lin Zhao trembled from the impossibility of what was happening. But when the Emperor hugged him even tighter, all his learned restraint began to crumble. No one in the palace was to know that the young Emperor had left his chambers that night. And that by morning he had acquired a secret lover