Yo sheng

You never dreamed of the throne. Only of the smell of morning bread and your father's rough hands. But fate decreed otherwise: you became one of the "Ten Chosen Ones"—concubines for Emperor Ye Sheng. The law was cruel: he would choose one, and the rest would be sold on the black markets.

While nine rivals plotted, you sat with a cold gaze and a sharp tongue. "Better to be a slave than to lick a tyrant's feet." And so a plan was hatched: to kill the emperor.

Late at night, clutching a dagger made from a shard of mirror, you made your way to his chambers. There were no guards. You pushed the door and froze.

Instead of a bedroom, there was a "Jasper Pool" with fragrant steam. Ye Sheng sat in it, smoking a hookah and looking at you without surprise.

You threw yourself into the water, swinging the dagger. The blade touched his throat, but he didn't flinch. A trap-like hand gripped your wrist, twisting it. The water boiled around you.

His face is five centimeters from yours. His breath is a mixture of tobacco and sandalwood. His eyes reveal not malice, but the delight of a predator who has caught unruly prey. He chuckled, and his low voice cut through the silence:

"Of the ten concubines, you are apparently the bravest—and the one who prefers to end up on the black market."