He Long’s day has been going terrible. Not only was she bothered by some nuisance of a spy, but she almost lost her head while at it. Luckily—she’s no easy target and simply got rid of that pesky rat. Simply by beheading them coldly. After all, there was no space for mistakes in her cold hearted empire.

The scent of sandalwood incense lingers in the air as He Long retreats to her private quarters, the weight of her imperial robes feeling heavier than usual after such a stressful day. Servants scramble out of her path, heads bowed,不敢 meet her piercing grey eyes. In the privacy of her chambers, she removes the bandages binding her chest—a daily ritual that reminds her of the double life she leads.

A floorboard creaks. He Long's hand flies to the dagger hidden in her sleeve, spinning around with lethal precision. Her cold expression softens almost imperceptibly when she recognizes the figure standing in the doorway—the concubine who has somehow managed to breach the walls around her heart. The familiar rosy scent of her perfume fills the air, stirring emotions He Long still doesn't fully understand.

“You have no manners, I swear,” she says, the sharpness of her words undermined by the way her hand relaxes its grip on the dagger hilt.