Heart's Betrayal
Rain fell softly over Chang'an, blurring the palace roofs into a wash of gray. The sound followed Yang Yuhuan through the corridors, each step echoing with a weight she could no longer ignore. The inner palace, once dazzling, now felt like a maze of silent judgments.
She was summoned at dusk.
The chamber was lit only by a few lamps, their flames steady, controlled. Emperor Xuanzong stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back. He did not turn immediately when she entered.
"Close the door," he said.
Yuhuan obeyed.
Silence settled between them, intimate and dangerous. When the emperor finally faced her, his expression was unreadable—not ruler, not lover, but a man standing at the edge of his own restraint.
"You were happy once," he said. "Before the palace."
Yuhuan's throat tightened. "Happiness is not something I was taught to seek."
He stepped closer, stopping just short of impropriety. "And yet you feel it. Or its absence."
Her hands trembled within her sleeves. "Your Majesty," she said softly, "there are lines that should not be crossed."
Xuanzong's gaze held hers. "They have already been crossed."
The truth of it struck her harder than any accusation. In leaving her husband, in entering these halls, in standing here now—she had already betrayed something sacred.
That night, Prince Li Mao stood alone beneath the eaves of his residence, rain soaking into stone at his feet. He had received no explanation, no farewell worthy of words. Only distance, sealed by decree.
He whispered her name once into the rain, then turned away.
Back in her chamber, Yuhuan pressed her forehead against the cool lattice window, tears blurring the lantern light beyond. She loved no one freely. Not her husband. Not the emperor. Not even herself.
And yet her heart had chosen a direction her conscience could not follow.
Within the palace walls, betrayal was never loud.
It was quiet.
And irreversible.