The royal garden was quiet, but something felt wrong.
Two beautiful concubines were kneeling with their foreheads pressed to the cold stone ground. Their delicate bodies trembled with fear. Their long hair was messy, their faces wet with tears. With trembling eyes, they looked up at the man standing before them—the Emperor.
Behind them, the garden stretched endlessly, covered in dark red camellia flowers. Normally, it would have been a breathtaking sight—vivid, alive, and full of color. But today, many of the blossoms were crushed underfoot. Their petals were scattered like broken dreams, stained and torn.
Long Mingzhe stood still, with a smile on his face. He wore his black dragon robes, the gold embroidery shining under the fading sunlight. His long black hair fell freely behind him, and his face, though stunningly handsome, was filled with cold amusement.
He smiled gently, almost kindly, as if he wasn't standing before two women who were begging for their lives.
