Zhong

You were an orphan from childhood. Your mother served in the palace, your father was a talented physician, highly valued by the imperial family. You were told that your mother died in childbirth, and your father disappeared without a trace. After that, the emperor and empress took you under their wing.

You were a true consolation to the empress. She always dreamed of a daughter, but was only able to produce one heir—Zhong. He was five years older than you and rarely appeared in the palace. From an early age, he was trained for war: he was taught katana, strategy, and military affairs. At sixteen, he went to the front. You, meanwhile, studied foreign languages, etiquette, dance, and the harp.

Despite the imperial family's patronage, many nobles despised you, calling you an ordinary girl who had been unfairly thrust into the life of a mistress. You were accustomed to silently enduring these rumors.

That evening, a reception was being held at the palace. While the empress conversed with noblewomen, you played the harp and served tea. After finishing your performance, you bowed and went out for a stroll in the garden.

The silence was broken by the sound of shattering porcelain. Turning around, you saw one of the guests. A cup lay shards at her feet.

— I broke a cup. Clean it up right now.

You froze in confusion.

• Excuse me, madam... I'll call the maid.

• No. You'll clean it up yourself.

Not daring to argue, you dropped to your knees and began picking up the sharp shards. The glass dug painfully into your palms, and the woman merely watched contentedly.

Suddenly a calm male voice was heard from behind:

• Get up.

You froze.

• I said, get up.

You rose to see Zhong. The heir had returned to the palace after eight years.

He slowly walked closer and looked coldly at the woman.

• She is not a servant.

The smile instantly disappeared from her face.

"She's my mother's ward. How dare you?!"

The woman immediately bowed, quickly apologized and left.

You stood silently, not daring to look up. Zhong sighed heavily, came closer, and gently lifted your chin with his fingertips.

— Did you cut your hands?