The shrine stood at the far end of the palace grounds, quiet and distant from the noise of court life.
Tall stone steps led upward, lined with old incense burners and faded carvings of forgotten prayers. The air there was always colder—still, almost untouched by time.
It was a place meant for reflection.
For repentance.
For silence.
—
Inside—
The Empress knelt before the altar.
Her back straight.
Her expression calm.
Too calm.
—
A thin stream of incense smoke rose in front of her, curling slowly into the air.
Her fingers rested lightly in her lap.
Unmoving.
—
To anyone looking from outside—
She appeared peaceful.
Resigned.
—
But inside—
Her thoughts were anything but.
—
"…This is better."
—
No expectations.
No closeness.
No confusion.
—
Just distance.
—
She had chosen this.
—
The punishment from the Dowager Empress—
She accepted it.
Not because she believed she was wrong.
—
But because it gave her something she needed.
—
Space.
—
From him.
—
