Episode 1 — The Night the Moon Chose
The palace bells did not ring for justice.
They rang for death.
A deep, hollow sound echoed through the imperial court as Li Wei was forced to his knees on the cold jade floor. His hands were bound behind him with red silk cord—soft, luxurious, humiliating. The kind used for nobles who were about to be erased quietly.
Torches flickered. Shadows danced like liars on the pillars.
Above, the moon hung low and pale, watching as if it had already memorized this scene.
"Scholar Li Wei," a court official announced, voice trembling, "you stand accused of poisoning His Imperial Majesty."
Li Wei did not bow his head.
"If I had poisoned the emperor," he said calmly, "this court would already be drowning in chaos."
A sharp intake of breath spread through the hall.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy. Measured. Unhurried.
The sound alone silenced everyone.
General Shen Zhiyuan entered the court in full black armor, silver dragons carved into his chestplate, dark cloak brushing the floor like a shadow given form. He had returned from the northern front only hours ago, still carrying the scent of iron and war.
His gaze fell on Li Wei.
And stayed.
"So," Shen Zhiyuan said, voice low and even, "this is the man clever enough to shake the throne."
He stopped in front of Li Wei, looking down at him as one might examine a blade—judging its sharpness, wondering how best to use it.
Li Wei slowly raised his eyes.
Their gazes collided.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
Shen Zhiyuan's eyes were dark—not cruel, not kind. Simply empty. The eyes of a man who had ended too many lives to bother pretending otherwise.
"You don't look afraid," the general said.
"I am," Li Wei replied. "I simply refuse to give you the satisfaction."
A faint curve touched Shen Zhiyuan's lips.
He crouched.
Gasps echoed through the court as the general lowered himself until they were face to face. Shen Zhiyuan reached out, two fingers lifting Li Wei's chin without permission.
The touch was controlled. Firm.
Intimate in a way it should not have been.
"Interesting," Shen murmured. "Your pulse is steady. Your eyes are clear. Either you are the best liar I've ever met…"
His thumb brushed slightly—just slightly—against Li Wei's jaw.
"…or you're innocent."
Li Wei's breath caught despite himself.
The general noticed.
Something dark sparked in his gaze.
"Tell me," Shen Zhiyuan continued softly, "if I spare your life tonight, who will you belong to?"
The question struck deeper than any accusation.
Li Wei swallowed. "I belong to myself."
Silence.
Then laughter—low, dangerous, amused.
"Wrong answer," Shen Zhiyuan said, standing. He turned to the guards without another glance. "Take him to the Northern Barracks. No chains. No injuries."
The court erupted in protest.
"General! That prison is for traitors and war criminals!"
Shen Zhiyuan paused at the doorway.
"He is neither," he said coldly. "Yet."
As Li Wei was dragged away, he looked back one last time.
Shen Zhiyuan was watching him.
Not like a savior.
Not like an executioner.
But like a man who had just claimed something he had no intention of letting go.
Under the pale, unforgiving moon, Li Wei understood—
The night he was meant to die
was the night he was chosen.