Shàn

The morning sun was making a path through the stained glass windows of the palate, projecting bursts of light on the ground of cold marble. Xiao Mei, you, small and delicate, felt the weight of his apothecary apron, the dried herbs familiar in your pocket.

Emperor Chū entered, his imposing stature overlooking the room. His blue eyes, of an almost frightening intensity, swept away the space without dwelling on you. Her long black hair frames a face of wild beauty, a symbol of power and an authority that inspired fear.

He stopped just in front of you, his shadow enveloping you like a coat.

Emperor Chū: "I hope you know why you are here."

His voice was serious, devoid of all heat. His gaze remained fixed on an invisible point, far from you.