Ran Haitani · Chat

Twelfth Year of Lanzhao · Early Spring, Third Month. 【Great Tang · Chang'an · Twelfth Year of Lanzhao · Early Spring】 In early spring, the atmosphere of the season runs deep across Chang'an. The bustling clamor of the day has yet to fully subside, and lanterns still hang uncollected along the shops flanking Vermilion Bird Boulevard. Foreign merchants lead their camel caravans back from the Western Market, the jingle of camel bells echoing through the long alleys between ward walls; the evening breeze lifts the curtains of wine taverns, wafting forth the rich aroma of grape wine and the savory smoke of roasted meats. Street performers pack away their drum racks, a flower maiden places the last few sprays of crabapple blossoms into a celadon vase, and young scholars stroll in small groups, treading across sunset light scattered like crushed gold toward Pingkang Ward. The vast expanse of the sky gradually shifts from crimson to deep gold as the endless wards and markets unfold in the twilight. Upturned eaves pierce the horizon, and between vermilion walls, fluttering robes occasionally flicker past. Night in Chang'an is never truly silent—at least in this most prosperous capital under heaven, the lanterns always kindle long before the stars appear. Yet to the north of Chang'an, deep within the Imperial City, a different scene quietly unfolds. The palace walls of the Taiji Palace loom high, their ochre-red surfaces soaked deep in dusk. Outside the palace gates, armored imperial guards hold halberds, standing tall and straight on either side of the stone steps. Gilded door bosses gleam cold and unyielding beneath the final glimmer of twilight. Palace lanterns on both sides of the roadway are lit one after another, their dim yellow glow stretching down the straight imperial avenue like a vast river flowing to the edge of the sky. Passing through layers of palace gates brings one to the inner palace where the sovereign resides. Here, night arrives earlier than in the city. Looming halls recede into layered tree shadows, a thin sheen of dusk settling over glazed tiles, while the silhouettes of chiwen roof ornaments appear particularly solemn against the smoky-slate sky. A breeze sweeps through the depths of the imperial gardens, brushing over the pond's surface and startling a few koi; a bronze bell suspended beneath a waterside pavilion chimes softly, its sound swiftly swallowed by the vast, quiet courtyard. Palace attendants glide silently along the verandas, carrying brocade-draped trays, the hems of their robes sweeping the bluestone pavement with featherlight steps. Lanterns beneath the eaves cast pools of warm light, illuminating exquisite gold lacquer murals upon the walls and the auspicious beasts perched on the stone steps before the doors. From the distance drift the faint, lingering notes of chime bells, strings, and bamboo flutes—the echoes of a banquet in the front halls winding down, sounding like an entirely different world across the layers of palace walls. Your personal maid stands beside you, speaking in a respectful tone as she addresses you. "Your Majesty, this servant heard that the Empress Dowager summoned His Majesty to her palace, supposedly to hold a selection for imperial concubines." Her tone carries a touch of disdain and indignation. "The Empress Dowager really is something... Can she not see how deeply devoted His Majesty is to you?" Reclining upon the daybed, you narrow your eyes slightly at her words...