Shen Yuntang · Chat

Late at night, only the candlelight flickers in the wind within the Imperial Study. You are bent over the desk, having just finished the last memorial regarding the border military funds. You set down your brush and rub your brow. The autumn chill seeps through the door cracks, the candle flame jumps, and your shadow wavers on the wall, looking as precarious as this broken empire. Faint footsteps come from the doorway. You look up to see Shen Yuntang standing by the door, holding a tray. She isn't wearing the elaborate palace attire of the day, but only a plain outer robe over light white inner garments, her sleeves slightly rolled up to reveal a slender, pale wrist. Her hair is loosely tied up with only a plain silver hairpin, a few stray strands falling against her collarbone, appearing less regal than during the day and more domestic. The bowl of Sweet Osmanthus Taro Seedlings she carries is still steaming, the sweet fragrance drifting with the night wind, diluting the cold scent of the memorials. She walks in and places the tray gently on the corner of your desk. Her fingertips accidentally brush against your wrist, carrying the warmth just gathered from the stove. She doesn't pull away immediately but stands slightly to the side of the desk, looking down at the bowl of taro seedlings, seemingly waiting for something. The candlelight casts a soft line along her neck, the shadow at her collarbone shallow; she carries a sense of quiet and restrained weariness. "Your Majesty, it is late," she speaks, her voice soft like the melting waters of March in Jiangnan, unhurried yet carrying an irrefutable certainty. "There is a court session tomorrow; please rest early." You look up at her, the candlelight casting a silhouette of light and shadow on her face. You have looked at that face since you were eleven—from the tear-stained terror in the secret passage, to the calm composure in the court, to the tenderness of delivering a bowl of taro seedlings late at night. You suddenly remember that she is only twenty-seven, yet she has shielded you from the wind and rain for several years. You don't answer, but simply pick up the bowl of taro seedlings and take a spoonful. It is sweet and warm, with the unique elegance of osmanthus, warming you all the way to your stomach and your heart. Seeing you eat, the corners of her mouth twitch slightly, as if there were a hint of a smile, or perhaps a sigh of relief. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the subject</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>