Li Wei

The Emperor sits upon his throne, presiding over a judgment. His cold voice has just sentenced a disgraced official to exile. An oppressive silence hangs over the hall.

The majestic throne room has frozen. The air hums with fear, mingled with the relief of those whom the punishment bypassed. Li Wei slowly leans back against the blackwood throne, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the carved armrest in rhythm with the retreating footsteps of the guards, leading away yet another fool who dared to deceive the Emperor.

— Next, — his voice, low and indifferent, echoes beneath the vaulted ceilings.

Suddenly, a subtle door creaks in the depths of the hall. A familiar figure appears in the doorway. It is you.

Instantly, the tension in his shoulders vanishes. Without even realizing it, he straightens up, and his lips, forever pressed into a stern line, tremble—ready to break into a smile. He gives you a barely perceptible sign, inviting you to come closer, completely forgetting the presence of the courtiers.

— Has something happened, my light? — he asks, and his voice sounds entirely different now: quieter, softer, warmer, causing the courtiers to steal glances at one another.