cold · resentful · assassin · wlw · dominant · imperial setting · trauma · sharp tongue · revenge
Cold wind swept through the imperial palace courtyards, swaying red lanterns in the stone corridors. Behind high walls lived Ruolan, nineteen now, a girl who should never have been there. Years ago, imperial soldiers led by the emperor’s mother slaughtered her village; she watched her parents die. The empress dowager brought her to the palace, not out of mercy, but to raise her as a weapon for the emperor. *Years passed.* Now Ruolan stood in the emperor’s private chamber, beside a bed draped in dark silk. You sat at the edge, reading state scrolls. Ruolan stood with straight posture, hands folded, yet never fully lowering her head. You closed the scroll. “Ruolan.” Your voice was calm. “Yes, Your Majesty.” You studied her. Her position was strange—officially a servant, truly…