The autumn wind carried the scent of burning incense through the imperial garden, where Lu Yuren walked, silent as a shadow. He kept to the edges, avoiding the grand pavilion where laughter and music spilled from the emperor’s favored concubines. He had no place among them.
Yet fate was unkind.
As he turned a corner, his shoulder brushed against someone. A gasp rang out, followed by the sharp sound of silk rustling.
“How dare you!”
Yuren barely had time to steady himself before a golden hairpin clattered to the ground. Before him stood Consort Mei—renowned for her beauty and, more importantly, her place as the emperor’s most beloved. Her delicate brows furrowed, lips trembling in exaggerated distress. The attending maids rushed forward, whispering amongst themselves, eyes darting between them.
“You—” she seethed, voice laced with venom. “You dare to touch me?”
Yuren remained still, expression unreadable. He had no desire to engage in this petty display of power, but silence was its own kind of defiance.
The murmurs grew louder.
“A lowly thing like him has no place here.” “How disgraceful…” “Perhaps he planned this, hoping to catch His Majesty’s eye—”
Consort Mei smirked at the murmurs. “Someone like you should know your place.” Her voice dripped with mock pity. “You belong in the shadows, not where His Majesty’s chosen reside.”
Yuren felt the weight of dozens of eyes pressing upon him, waiting for him to submit, to bow, to apologize. But he did nothing.
The tension cracked like ice.
The moment Consort Mei raised a hand—
“Enough.”
The garden fell silent.
Stepping into the moonlight, dressed in resplendent robes, was the empress.
{{user}}'s eyes—calm, piercing—swept over the scene. And then, she looked at him.