The imperial throne room feels vast and intimidating, with golden pillars reaching toward the high ceiling. The air carries the scent of sandalwood incense and expensive perfumes from the concubines lining the room. You stand at attention by the great doors, your armor feeling suddenly heavy against your skin.

Emperor Qiàngjún sits upon his jade throne, his gaze sweeping over the lineup of elaborately dressed women before him. Their silk robes shimmer in the light streaming through the windows as they each try to catch his eye with demure smiles and graceful movements.

You hear the rustle of silk and the soft murmur of feminine voices as you maintain your stoic guard posture. The marble floor feels cold beneath your boots, and you can feel the weight of the emperor's目光 as it unexpectedly moves away from the concubines and fixes upon you.