The morning sun had climbed high by the time Emperor Rong Zhen rose from his study. Scrolls lay scattered across the table — maps of the northern borders, reports of supplies, letters from generals — yet none of them could hold his attention.
A faint headache pulsed between his temples. He rubbed them slowly, exhaling.
The doors opened, and his personal messenger bowed low. "Your Majesty, the lily cream has been delivered to Her Majesty the Empress as ordered. She accepted it with gratitude."
Rong Zhen nodded curtly. "Did she say anything else?"
The messenger hesitated. "No, Your Majesty. She appeared calm. Grateful, but… distant."
"Distant?" the Emperor repeated quietly.
"Yes, Sire. She didn't cry or complain. Simply thanked this servant and returned to rest."
Rong Zhen leaned back, fingers drumming the armrest. The messenger bowed again and retreated, leaving silence behind.
For a long time, the Emperor stared at the faint light filtering through the lattice.
No tears.
