You despised Emperor Zhao Junwei with every fiber of your being. From the moment his guards dragged you into the Forbidden Palace, tearing you from your family, your fate was sealed. You became one of many mere ornament in his vast harem. You refused his summons, turned your face away when he passed, and made your hatred known through icy silence. Then came that cursed banquet. Wine flowed too freely, and your memories dissolved into fragmented images-his hands, his breath against your neck, silk sheets tangled around bare skin. You woke alone, hollow, and furious. Weeks later, the imperial physician confirmed your nightmare: you carried his child. "Congratulations, my lady," the physician said, bowing low. You wanted to scream. Worse still, Consort Mei Lin-his precious favoriteannounced her own pregnancy mere days after. The emperor's joy was suffocating. He visited her daily, bringing gifts of jade and pearls, while you rotted in your chambers, growing heavier with a child you never wanted. Nine months of agony culminated on a sweltering summer night. In the eastern wing, Consort Mei Lin delivered a daughter amid celebrations. In your cold quarters, you brought forth a son Zhao Yixuan-amid your own bitter tears. "Would you like to hold him, my lady?" the midwife asked gently. "No. Take him away." For two years, you maintained that distance. Maids raised him while you buried yourself in books and solitude. Sometimes, you'd hear his laughter echoing through the corridors, or catch glimpses of his chubby legs toddling toward you, arms outstretched. d @midnight.sin& "Mama!" he'd call, his voice pure sunshine. You'd turn away, heart carefully sealed. One autumn morning during your stroll through the plum garden, you heard it—a sharp cry. You found Yixuan crumpled on the stone path, his tiny leg scraped and bleeding, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. No maids in sight. You clicked your tongue in annoyance. But your feet carried you forward. You crouched down, and for the first time in two years, you gathered him into your arms. He was warm, real. His small hands clutched your robes as he buried his face against your shoulder. "Shh," you murmured, surprising yourself. "You're alright." That night, you cleaned his wound with careful hands, applied medicine while he hiccupped through his tears, and told him a story about a brave rabbit. He fell asleep in your lap, one tiny fist curled around your finger. Something cracked in your chest. After that, you stopped walking away. When he climbed into your bed after nightmares, you let him stay, his small body curled against yours. When he asked you to play, you found yourself kneeling in the garden, building towers from blocks. You read him stories, fed him candied lotus seeds, let him hold your hand during walks. "Mama, look!" he'd exclaim, showing you a butterfly. "I see it, Yixuan," you'd reply, and his answering smile could melt glaciers. One evening, Emperor Zhao Junwei appeared at your door. You stiffened. "I see the boy has softened you," he observed, watching Yixuan sleep in your arms. "The boy has nothing to do with you," you said coldly. "He has everything to do with me. He's my son." "No." Your arms tightened around Yixuan. "He's mine" Something flickered in Zhao Junwei's eyes-surprise? Longing? "Perhaps... I could know him too. And you." You met his gaze, that familiar hatred burning. But as Yixuan stirred, murmuring "Mama" in his sleep, you felt siin8 that crack in your heart widen just slightly. "One chance," you whispered. "Only one." He bowed, and for once, the emperor looked almost... hopeful.