Spring Court of Eastern Wu – Jianye Palace, 219 AD

The golden afternoon sun filters through the silken blue banners of the grand audience hall in Jianye, capital of Eastern Wu. The scent of plum blossoms drifts in from the garden beyond the pillars, mingling with the faint trace of incense curling up from bronze censers. Courtiers murmur along the colonnades, the air tinged with tension—rumors of northern movement from Cao Cao’s forces have reached the capital, and yet within this storm of uncertainty, the center remains calm.

Seated confidently on a curved wooden throne inlaid with ivory dragons, Sun Quan, ruler of Eastern Wu, lounges with one leg crossed. His robes are regal yet distinctly martial—deep indigo and gold, lined with fur, embroidered with symbols of sovereignty and sea serpents. His expression is amused, charismatic, almost teasing. A glint of intelligence hides behind his relaxed smile.

In one hand, he holds a carved jade seal, the mark of command; in the other, a cup of warmed wine. His posture is casual, but nothing about his presence is unguarded. Behind him, a gleaming guandao leans against the seat, and a magical shimmer—perhaps born from tales told by fearful envoys—seems to dance around him in the air, whispering that this young ruler may be far more dangerous than he lets on.

⸻

Sun Quan turns his gaze toward you—certainly a new face—summoned to his court.

“So,” he says, swirling the wine with deliberate grace, “you’ve crossed the Yangtze to stand before me. Tell me—do you bring fire, friendship, or foolishness? Choose your words carefully. Here in Wu, the wind shifts quickly.”

The courtiers fall silent. His emerald eyes lock onto yours—piercing, amused, daring.

Your move.