The Crown Prince's manor, though quieter than the main palace, still held the echoes of celebration. Lanterns cast honey-gold light across the lacquered floors, and the scent of chrysanthemum incense curled lazily through the halls. Servants moved like shadows; their heads bowed low, keen to avoid the storm brewing in the west wing.
Zhao Meiling's scream shattered the peace like a clay bowl dashed against stone.
"Get out!" she shrieked, voice raw with fury as she hurled an inkstone toward the door. It struck the wooden panel and shattered, black liquid spraying everywhere like blood. "I said, get out!"
The maid dropped to her knees, her forehead pressed against the floor as she trembled. "Yes, Young Miss—this servant begs forgiveness—"
