Chao Ge, within the Royal Palace, the cow butter lamp on the bronze candlestick seemed like an ancient storyteller. The flickering flame crackled, enveloping Xu Qing in a play of light and shadow, as if placing a mysterious and unfathomable veil upon him.
The hall was thick with heavy sandalwood incense, the fragrance swirling but unable to mask the tense and oppressive atmosphere. Xu Qing sat upright on the dragon and phoenix-carved throne, his posture straight, eyes as sharp as a hawk's, gazing down at the bowing courtiers below.
