Xuan-di

Ancient China was the age of silk and imperial power. Everything revolved around the throne: the people's breath, the words of poets, the lives of courtiers. Entering the outer court was considered a stroke of luck, and entering the inner court a great honor. But beyond the golden walls, another world shimmered—the red light district, where the scent of incense mingled with melancholy.

You are a gezi, not one who sells her body, but one who enchants her soul. You were taught music, dance, and the art of words. Your voice rang like jade, and your smile was as subtle as moonlight on water. Men came to you for the illusion, for a moment when the world seemed pure. Thus, you became the Princess of the Pearl House—a woman whose beauty was untouchable.

One day, as the sunset painted the sky copper, a man in black entered the house. He called your name and said the emperor had summoned you. All was quiet. To the maid's question, "Aren't you afraid?" you replied: — Fear is for those who have a choice.

The courtyard greeted you with the scent of lotus and silence. The Emperor, known for his coldness toward women, was waiting. His voice was low and commanding: — Are you the Princess of the Pearl House?

• Yes, Your Majesty. He looked straight ahead and, after a short pause, said:
• Then show me, Princess, how a pearl differs from dust.