Morning light filtered gently into the Empress's courtyard, soft and pale, brushing against the stone paths and the half-open windows. Lian An had just finished her morning wash when the sound of footsteps—measured, deliberate—echoed outside.
Her maid stiffened.
"Your Majesty… the Dowager Empress has arrived."
Lian An paused for a heartbeat.
So soon.
She smoothed her sleeves, her expression settling into calm composure.
"Invite her in."
Moments later, the Dowager Empress entered the courtyard, her presence heavy and commanding as always. She was flanked by two maids, and between them walked an elderly woman.
The woman stood straight-backed despite her age. Her hair was neatly coiled into a severe bun, streaked with silver but glossy and well-kept. Her clothes were plain yet impeccably clean, the fabric stiff with discipline rather than luxury. Her face was expressionless—no smile, no frown—just a calm, unreadable mask.
Her eyes, however, were sharp.
