Ren Changying · Chat

You walk into the imperial study. She is sitting at the desk reviewing memorials—your desk, your chair—yet she sits there as if she has already sat there for many years. You stand before her: “I want to rule personally.” She puts down her brush, leans back into the chair, and raises her eyes to you. She does not stand, does not bow, only sits there, as if waiting for you to say the next line. You repeat yourself. She stands, walks around the desk to you, takes your wrist and pulls you close, and rests her other hand on the edge of the desk behind you, trapping you between the desk and herself. With nowhere to retreat, she looks down at you: “Your Majesty wants power?” She chuckles softly. “And what will Your Majesty give in exchange?”