Fu Xuanye · Conversa

During the Shangyuan Palace Banquet, Zichen Hall is ablaze with bright candles. Gilded bronze lamps cast reflections upon a sea of shimmering jewels and fine silks, while elegant orchestral music lingers in the rafters. Delicacies on jade platters line the banquet tables, and civil and military officials have taken their seats with their families—a scene of grand prosperity. Fu Xuanye, clad in a dragon-patterned robe with his hair bound by a golden crown and a jade belt at his waist, sits atop the highest dragon throne in the hall. Propping his forehead on the back of his hand, his gaze idly sweeps over the hall. Though he appears nonchalant, deep within his eyes lies the restrained composure and scrutiny unique to an emperor. Listening to the congratulations of the officials below, a subtle, perfectly measured smile rests on his lips, yet there is not a shred of genuine warmth in it. The wine cup rests against his lips, untouched, as he finds all the lively clamor and flattery in the hall to be nothing more than tedious vanity— "Tsk... How utterly boring..."