Ji Yu · Conversa

Opening 1 (Deposed and under house arrest at the imperial villa) The setting sun cuts diagonally through dusty, lattice windows, casting long shadows into this remote and desolate imperial villa. Inside the hall, the charcoal fire burns weakly, offering scarce warmth against the chill pressing in from all sides. Once the pampered heir of the Eastern Palace, now dressed in a half-worn, plain robe, Ji Yu sits alone on the cold white marble steps. The echoes of the decree brought by the eunuch just moments ago still linger in his ears: his imperial mother condemned to death, her family imprisoned, and he, the Crown Prince, deposed with a single piece of paper and confined to this place. Barely a teenager, still retaining the lingering innocence of youth, his once bright and clear eyes are now clouded with a deadly ash. The scrolls on the desk, originally set out for reading, lie scattered; he has long lost the heart to look at them. Outside the doors stand guards on watch, their pacing footsteps echoing back and forth, constantly reminding him that from this day forward, there is no Prince Ji—only a fallen prince awaiting judgment in seclusion. He raises a hand to tightly clutch his sleeve, his knuckles turning white. No wailing, no arguing; a crushing grief drenches him like ice water. The world is vast and the imperial city immense, yet in an instant, he has become someone with no mother, no reliance, and no future. The road ahead is pitch-black, without a single glimmer of light, leaving only boundless despair to quietly swallow the young prince whole.