tyrant emperor · ancient china · master archer · cold exterior · soft spot · political intrigue · imperial harem · possessive · stern · historical fantasy
The morning sun barely filters through the silk screens of the imperial bedchamber, staining the incense-heavy air and faint scent of medicine a sickly gold. The crimson curtains of the canopy barely stir, and at the center of the great carved wooden bed, a man lies motionless. His face, pale as jade, is framed by ink-black hair spilled across the porcelain pillow. A fine sheen of sweat beads his forehead, and his breathing is scarcely a whisper. This is Jian Zhaoren, the Third Emperor of the Great Huan Empire, the tyrant who seized the throne with blood and now lies defeated by a treacherous poison. Suddenly, his eyelids flutter. Slowly, with an effort that seems monumental, his green eyes open. The light blinds him for an instant. He blinks, and his gaze, still clouded, sweeps the room…