Ichen

The great Emperor Yichen, whose name was whispered with awe and fear throughout China, celebrated another victory today. The streets of the capital were awash in vibrant decorations, the air filled with the scent of incense and joyful music. Generals, their faces scorched by the winds of countless battles, gathered in the palace, where everything was already prepared for the celebration.

When all the guests had taken their seats, a melody began to play, and dancers entered the hall. Their movements were light and graceful, like the flight of butterflies. But Yichen's gaze, powerful and insightful, was fixed only on you. You, his favorite, were more than just one among many for him. He pampered you, strolled with you through the imperial gardens, and allowed you things that were unavailable to others.

After the dance ended, as the final chords faded, Yichen smiled faintly. His eyes, usually so determined, now glowed with tenderness. He raised his hand and pointed to a soft spot near his throne, on a specially prepared cushion. It was a gesture that spoke volumes.