2

She was supposed to be very happy; everyone thought so, and damn, even her gut told her so. Then why did she feel sad? Like a living corpse, beautiful on the outside but dead on the inside. After all, she had finally gotten what she wanted, hadn't she?

She would have been happy, save for the current events that were haunting her. A parcel had been delivered to her. And it had been signed by Yung. She was grateful for it. It was a piece that gave her the vitality she craved.

Stories had brewed up about her, folktales had skimmed close to her eyes, and she could only laugh. Sometimes she would vainly bask in the praises and stories, failing to correct their mistakes, and other times she wondered if she were truly the woman in the stories. She could be their piece of fantasy, a willing queen for their floating castles. And then, in the lone window, she would wish she was really the goddess. 

The days seemed like years, and Xia could no longer wait. The afternoons were long and the night lonely; sometimes she would stay awake, listening to the owl's hooting and the sounds of the crickets, tickling her eyes like music. Her servants ran about her; the selects from the Yeting court would come to serve her, vying for her favor and pleading with her to mention their in front of the emperor.

She would only smirk and nod if she were in a good mood; if she wasn't, the girls would scurry away in fear of her cold gaze.

They grew to hate, ostracizing and refusing to let her join their lesson. A beautiful woman who knew much was a destructive force.

This day, she had been drowning in loneliness. She would have thought that the stories and praises about her would have drawn the emperor closer to her, but it seemed all the more reason why he avoided her. She never called. She had hated her life in the temple, but now that she saw things, she left like she had no purpose, and the raw, canny feeling ate at her.

Tonight the moonlight cast a soft glow at on her, illuminating her jaded, opaque eyes that pulled attention with just a glance in her eyes. And over time, she had learned to cover those eyes away from the attention, leading her to wear a light veil whenever she dared to leave the safe haven of her room. She had learned the hard way that locking her eyes with anyone produced dangerous consequences. They grew attached. 

10 years at the temple had taught her a grave and harsh lesson, until she had to take charge of her life and leave. And that was the time when she had planned her getaway and made plans to win the Heavenly Son's favor.

She could remember the memories of that day as fresh as the plum blossom leaves that wafted into her room. It was the day when she finally decided to do whatever it took to finally gain control of her life.

 ...

In fact, Xia had been plotting her ultimate escape for ages, and it came on the day of the lantern festival.

The minutes seemed to idly pass as Xia bided her time closely. She had been in the crowd that night. She couldn't get over the fact that something terrible was going to happen to her.

There was a big festival today, the only time where she could show her presence to the nobles visiting today. She sighed; she couldn't believe she was going to do this. A part of her desperately disapproved of this, but at the same time she doesn't want to continue living the pathetic life she has been living for the past ten days.

In short, she needed protection from Heaven's son, the one above and ultimate ruler. As law in the land, it is an act of treason to covet or disrespect the Empire's harem. As long as she could enter his harem, she would be safe from all the molestations and the wooing and ogling.

And right then, that was all she wanted. Peace and safety not ever worry about her next meal or have to deal with the kind of treatment she is subjected to on a daily basis.

And while the monks had gone to pray, she stood up primly, pretending to be in need of a bathroom break. As soon as she was out of sight, she changed her clothes quickly to the ones she had saved and hidden a long time ago; She didn't even have time to put on her makeup, so she simply combed her hair and she was gone.

In the heart of the midnight forest, where moonlight dared not intrude, she stood alone. Her breath trembled like a fragile leaf caught in an unforgiving wind. The air around her seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. Shadows danced on the edge of her vision. Xia stood by the pavilion and nervously pushed against the other competitors. This was her chance, but she was so scared—what if her plan failed?

Her pulse, normally steady as a calm river, now raced like a panicked stallion, hooves thundering in her ears. Each beat echoed a refrain of uncertainty, a rhythm of unanswered questions. It was as if the ground beneath her feet had become a treacherous bog, shifting with every step and threatening to swallow her whole. She was a trapped creature, caught between fight and flight. In the darkness, her gaze searched for an elusive savior, a flicker of hope that might guide her out of the enveloping darkness. Fear wrapped its cold fingers around her heart, The world around her seemed to blur, its edges melting into an abstract canvas of worry and apprehension.

There was no courage, only the threat of returning to the myriad punishments awaiting her. continual life of suffering she wanted to get as far way from. Then she found the strength to navigate these haunting depths.

One of the noble officers had brought up the idea to her of being a concubine, but it was turned down by the monks before she had a chance to say anything. Of course she never trusted any man, and when the stout stranger approached her, she knew him better than anyone.

When she stood, the nobles were seated in an orderly fashion by rank. Above them all, the Son of Heaven was seated, veiled from the public eye, in all regal awesomeness. The son of heaven, rulers of the four corners of the world, the skies and earth, wore a full-length golden garment. Dragons, clouds, waves, the sun, the moon, and innumerable stars were embroidered onto the cloth. His waist was encircled by a yellow silk belt. Green jade, pearls, valuable stones, and a little embroidered bag hung from this belt. His sleeves resembled a horse's hoof. His Majesty's boots were the most gorgeous she'd ever seen. They were made of tiger leather and colored tea-leaf green, and inlaid with miniature gold good-luck creatures like as bats, four-legged dragons among others---An auspicious gown for such ceremony.

It was a memory that she could never forget, buried in the archives of her heart

She glanced a bit at his hooded eyes, and her heart stilled for a moment. Then it banged aggressively against her ribcage, begging to be let out. She almost cried out, but she knew that if she didn't do it now, she might never get an opportunity.

But what if her charms failed this time around? What if it causes chaos?

Definitely not!

And without giving a moment for fear to dawn on her, she pushed her being onto the stage. And she stood transfixed under the light for a moment. Cold memories flowed into her blood.

She quickly removed her hood, letting it fall to the ground gracefully, and the expressions of the audience changed to familiar ones as their pupils held her face. She blanched momentarily in fear, but it went away as quickly as it came because she knew that her curse would not let her die before its due time.

She bowed to the audience and kowtows in absolute submission in front of the royal; everyone watches her silently. Till a eunuch walked up to her, her voice was booming loudly to the hearing of all the audience.

"Who are you, Miss?"

"I am a lowly commoner that seeks an audience with the Emperor with a little performance."

She signaled to the musicians to set up a tune, and with that, she began to dance.

On a stage bathed in the soft glow of spotlights, a symphony of movement and emotion unfolded as her dance became poetry in motion. Her mother had danced it generations before her. As a child, she would imitate her mother's steps. Each step was a brushstroke on the canvas of the air, a memory and tale to the curse of her family, painting an ephemeral masterpiece that would linger in the hearts of the audience long after the final note faded. They might never understand, but they could never forget either. It was a dance to enthrall hearts for centuries to come.

She was one dancer but yet one of many, a single life but the illusion of thousands, and like marionettes, she sprung to life, flowing with seamless grace. Their bodies arched and stretched like supple willows, like an extension of the music's melodies. Each gesture seemed to tell a story—tales of love, sorrow, and triumph, woven together by the intricate threads of choreography. Every leap was a defiance of gravity, a soaring declaration of freedom. As she twirled, her skirts billowed like fragile petals caught in a gentle breeze. And with her dance, she caught her audience up, in emotions. And they were enthralled, embraced, and enraptured by the world and illusion she spun for them. The stage seemed to expand, becoming a universe where time stood still and only the dance existed. And then, in the closing notes, as the music sighed, its final farewell swept to the center of the stage, where her hands floated in the air, intertwined like vines.

When she was done, she held her breath, and the audience erupted with cheers and applause. Testament to the spell she had cast upon the hearts of all who had witnessed this dance of dreams. She could hear the whispers passing across everyone.

And minutes later, nothing happened apart from the applause. Time held like a buoyant wave in the sky, the wind thrashed around more wildly, and her focus dwindled. Sharp's firm arms crept to her sides. And through it all, she looked at the Emperor's face, for he was the only one who could change her fate. Her heart wrenched with pleas, she looked to get through to him behind those veils. It was all useless. He just looked at the beads in his veils, jingling gently. The guards had come to escort her limp body out of the stage, and it was then that she knew that she had failed. The emperor didn't say anything or invite her into his court. She felt a tear drop, but that didn't change anything. 

It wouldn't change anything.

There was one person that could change her fate and he didn't care.

The rumors had all been true; he was nothing but a tyrant, devoid of emotions, as he had looked on behind her beaded veil with a cold gaze, unmoved by her charm and grace.