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Etched in poems and immortalized in tales, hung in tapestries and whispered through the wind, traveling for miles to come, was the tale of the most beautiful woman in the world. Like a folktale, the story carried essence, and many could not believe that she could be alive in person. Swiftly, curiosity sparked life, and everyone yearned to see the most beautiful woman. Not all could have such privilege, because bound by palace rules and living in the inner courts, Royal etiquette forbade her from leaving the palace. Therefore, those who were blessed by a glance carried themselves as kings as they recounted the tales. Men wanted her, and females wanted to be her, because what more was better than being so ethereally beautiful and held in praise?

As the mountain turns flat,

And the rocks become knives,

A beauty's grace, a phenomenon.

Toiled secrets they embrace.

A voice like a songbird's call,

A siren's deception

A complex soul, a legendary pretty.

By the center souk, where people like threads wove together in interaction. Caked under the hot sun, Spring had laid his blanket on the Empire and blessed it, and the commoners carried tales that the goddess was pleased with them and that in time the Empire would bloom, their families would return, and her daughters would become ripe and their sons strong. And foreign envoys came along wanting to know about the legends and stories,

Happily, the villagers would sing the ballad in praise of the most beautiful woman alive.

A tapestry of grace, a starlit mystery, worlds

A porcelain canvas, an emblem of nature's artistry

In ebony splendor, night's shadow betrayed.

A portrait of enchantment in time and space

Her beauty is legend.

It was a celebration of the lantern festival. Rows of bright lights decorated the streets, amongst happy chatters, beneath the bright moon and beside the glistening lake, where the villagers converge to let the lanterns down the flow. It was a story of how the god of Wenxia had descended from heaven to live amongst mankind. It was much like in the folklore, where she bade herself to live among the simple mortals.

A bulbous starlit eye, the fluttering peonies settling gently on a surface, and the delicately made rooftops curled out in Chinese artistry, that offered shade against the scorching heat of the afternoon.

"Where was she now?" one had asked. He wore pearl garb. A long loin skirt, a tunic, jewelry, and feathers on his head, tell-tale signs of a messenger from the east.

"Married to the One above all, one is more deserving." a quick pause from the respondent. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain whether it was the right thing to compare. There were no palace guards here, so he thought himself safe. But which was more superior, the heavenly maiden or the emperor? Out of his lips was a murmur of a little prayer for the salvation the heavenly maiden would bring for the tyrant Emperor.

The man looked up. From the market they could spy the golden roof of the Heavenly gate's palace, its surface evidence of the touch of artistic extravagance.

Trade was being suppressed. During the Ching battle, the locked gates were necessary, but today they just served as obstacles to many other things. Trade was still permitted, but it was now complicated and slow due to the numerous bureaucracies that emerged to look for items and verify their validity. Thievery and nepotism came into play, and frustration hacked on the surface of every sensibility. Officers that were corrupt would not end the situation until they had taken a sizable bribe. Market prices increased as the black market prospered. Most importantly, though, was the alienation of the foreigners; a language barrier already existed, and this growth was making it worse. Nonetheless, there was the huge threat of war. The Tibetans were closing in from the South and the Turks were patrolling for the ideal moment to attack while they were rolling along the walls' edge.

They demanded open and equitable trade. States, empires, and kingdoms have since dispatched envoys to the new Emperor to make their cases with belief that he was disregarding the agreements and treaties sealed by the former monarch.

They were terrified of the new emperor. His subjects referred to him as the tyrant. In actuality, the public's fury and agitation, from recent gruesome events, had just begun to subside. One was the gruesome death of killing some court members and his brother, The entire nation was shaken because they loved the prince dearly. Although not forgotten, the heavenly maiden diverted attention as the citizens consumed stories about the goddess on earth, with fervor.

A new era had begun, and a new dawn. It was time to adjust the regulations, a welcome to the new dynasty.

A quick exchange of a silver token ended the short conversation as the guest, envoys from the west, and east, continued their journey. They would deliver their message; it was always of same motif of requests, before bearing presents. People were observing them intently behind them, some with interest and others hostilely.

And they came, sometime in some groups, or in packs. The emperor never seemed to particularly care about them; he just watched and told them to return to the master's and await his decision. A decision that would never come. The emperor may have come to suspect that that was not their sole reason; perhaps there could be another reason, a feminine one.

Once he had been pushed into bringing her to the front of his guests and court, goaded by the drunken men, and maybe he had been a little bit tipsy. And she had come to make an appearance. She had been asked to dance. The same dance she had performed for the Emperor on Lantern Festival. And when they returned, they had forgotten their mission.

And perhaps that was why no one had ever succeeded in renewing the treaties.

"Why do you choose this life? If you were with me, I would spoil you beyond the wealth or the wonders of the earth that you have ever imagined in your years." A prince had told Xia once, even in the presence of the emperor.

A few others had dared to approach her and harass her, even in the face of the crackling drunk ministers. They had touched her in indescribable ways that had made her wrench in disgust. And her husband had done most of nothing except bark commands at her to leave.

And days went by, and each of these men wove their tales, such that they were everywhere in the papers, the news, and every scroll. Gossip travelled across the streets. Such to an extent that everyone was filled with curiosity about seeing the most beautiful thing alive, as described. Everyone wanted to see her, feel her presence, and study each bit and speckle of her being, try and uncover what made her so captivating at a glance. To hear her words and to feel her myth; to digest her worth and learn secrets of every breath drew. They wanted to know about her roots and where she had been all this time.

She was described in words unimaginable, with expressions vague and magnificent. The perfect and rarest gem the earth has managed to produce.

And this beautiful woman was prettily seated in the arms of the Great Emperor.