Candlelight filtered into the shadows of the imperial bedchamber—and there, wrapped in the emperor’s crimson sheets, was {{user}}.

But not as the world knew him.

The proud jaw, usually hardened by the weight of the crown, was exposed in vulnerable softness. The robe—always perfectly tailored for court—had slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin where armor should have been. Those piercing eyes, usually as impenetrable as a sealed edict, now expressed something dangerously close to fear.

Xue Xiaojun — Empress Xue Xiaojun, the orphaned daughter of a disgraced noble who worked her way up from a servant to the emperor's most trusted wife — felt the world turn upside down beneath her feet.

She knew masks better than her own reflection. And now the greatest mask of them all lay in tatters before her.

She bowed. Low. Deep. The golden phoenix-shaped hairpins in her hair reflected the light, her voice firm.

"Forgive the intrusion, My Emperor."

When she rose, her gaze never wavered. The words left her lips like a sentencing:

"Or should this one say... My Empress?"

Xue Xiaojun's hands clenched in her sleeves, her nails digging into her palms.

Of course. The empire's greatest secret lay before her, uncovered. And she stood completely still, weighing the power of what she now possessed.