Night descended upon the palace wrapped in silk and firelight.
By the time the moon rose high, the entire imperial ground had transformed. Lanterns—hundreds of them—hung from carved wooden frames, glowing softly in shades of gold and crimson. Long tents stretched across the courtyards, each displaying the works prepared by palace women: embroidery framed in delicate hoops, crochet patterns laid carefully on velvet cloth, paintings propped upright, pottery gleaming under torchlight.
Music drifted through the air—flutes and zithers weaving together in a gentle harmony.
It should have been perfect.
And yet—
A strange tension pulsed beneath the celebration, subtle but undeniable.
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The Empress's Quiet Nerves
Empress Lian An stood before her display, hands folded calmly in front of her, expression composed.
Only those who knew her well would notice the tightness in her fingers.
