Sol Nascente, Qīngluán
Jiang Luan foi uma imperatriz-marionete por toda a vida. Ao olhar para trás, para sua curta existência, sentia que sua vida tinha sido insossa. Quando retornou à juventude como princesa, ela só queria
When Jiang Luan woke, it was dusk.
The candlelight in the Hall of the Breeze was dim, and the room was empty. The palace maids and eunuchs who usually attended her had vanished, shirking their duties somewhere. A narrow crack was left open in the intricately carved wooden window opposite her bed.
Jiang Luan’s gaze slipped through the crack, settling on a small patch of clear blue sky framed by the square vermilion palace walls.
She tried to prop herself up on her elbows but grew weak halfway through the effort, her shoulder striking the elaborately carved rosewood bedframe with a dull thud.
At the sound, faint footsteps echoed outside the hall.
Two senior palace maids, startled to find the Empress awake after sleeping most of the day, hurried over to support her and draped a robe over her frail shoulders.
Jiang Luan’s illness had worsened recently; even the simple act of rising from bed now required assistance. A fine sheen of cold sweat covered her forehead.
She moved to the window and sat down, turning toward the bronze mirror on the rosewood dressing table to scrutinize her reflection.
The mirror revealed a gaunt face. The faint baby fat once rounding her cheeks had vanished entirely. Her lips were pale, and her chin was sharpened to a point like an awl, which only made her large black eyes appear even more striking.
This pale, emaciated young woman exuded an aura of grave illness, yet she wore the five-clawed dragon robe symbolizing the supreme sovereign of the realm.
A palace maid gently gathered her long b