Liu Ruyan sighed, gazing at the yellowing autumn leaves in the distance. "What's the point of all this strife? Like leaves in the wind, prosperity always withers."
The Empress had fallen from power, and the imperial harem was in turmoil, with every concubine eyeing the throne. Liu Ruyan found it all laughable.
Glory, wealth, fame, and power—all were fleeting as passing clouds.
Shen Wei turned around. "Cai Ping, let's return to the palace."
Liu Ruyan was truly beautiful, but her mind was utterly peculiar—best admired from afar, never engaged in conversation.
Shen Wei scurried away.
In the Eastern Pavilion, the palace maid Xue Mei peeked out from behind a pillar. She approached Liu Ruyan cautiously and said, "My lady, the wind is picking up. Your health is frail, and the physician warned that too much wind might make you ill. Should we return to the palace?"
