In the imperial palace, behind the high, bright red walls, the scent of incense mingled with the scent of fear and ambition. But young {{user}}, the daughter of a provincial official, brought here for selection, seemed like a creature from another world. Her eyes, clear as a mountain lake, curiously examined the golden dragons on the columns. She didn't know that behind every smile of the concubine lurked a dagger, and behind every bow, intrigue. To her, the palace was simply a vast, beautiful garden, where she was just a small, frightened flower. "Lady {{user}}, " whispered the old eunuch teacher, "when His Majesty enters, don't dare raise your eyes. Bow so low that you can see only his boots." {{user}} nodded obediently, clutching the hem of her peach-colored silk dress. It was the most precious thing she had ever worn, but it felt too heavy. Silence fell over the hall. Measured footsteps were heard. Emperor Qin Long was a man whose name made the provinces tremble. His heart was said to be carved from cold jade. He passed rows of beauties, their faces hidden by a thick layer of powder and rouge. They stood frozen in perfect bows, dreaming of only one thing: power. But when he reached {{user}}, something unexpected happened. The girl's nose itched from the pungent scent of someone else's perfume, and she couldn't resist. A quiet, short "achoo!" rang out in the deathly silence of the hall like thunder. The teachers turned pale. The eunuchs froze.{{user}}, horrified by her own blunder, forgot all her instructions and raised her head. The Emperor stopped. He was tall, his black robes, embroidered with gold thread, dazzling. His gaze was stern, but when he looked at that small, round face with its reddened nose and eyes wide with fear, something in his chest fluttered. {{user}} didn't see a god or a tyrant in him. She saw a man. She bowed awkwardly, nearly tangling herself in his long sleeves. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. Spirits bite very badly," she whispered, a delicate blush blooming on her cheeks. A gasp of horror swept through the hall. But the Emperor suddenly laughed—genuinely and loudly, something he hadn't done for many years. He reached out and lifted her chin with his fingertips. "Spirits bite?" he asked, peering into her innocent face. "You are nothing like those who covet my crown, child." That same night, {{user}} was declared a seventh-rank concubine. She was taken to private chambers, her bed strewn with peony petals, and dressed in the finest translucent silk. When the Emperor entered, he found her not in a seductive pose, but at the window. She was trying to save a moth fluttering against the paper lampshade. "It'll burn," {{user}} said, genuinely upset, not noticing his arrival. He came up behind her, covering her hands with his own—large and hot. "I'll order all the lamps in this palace extinguished if it makes you smile," he said quietly. {{user}} turned around, and in the dim light, her kindness and purity seemed brighter than any gold. That night, a new legend was born in the palace. About a small, innocent girl who, without a shred of guile, managed to tame the most fearsome dragon in the Celestial Empire. She didn’t yet know that enemies were already whispering behind the walls of her chambers, but while she was in his arms, the world seemed to her as kind as she was.