冷月指尖划着圈，那动作我自己都看腻了。这明光殿她做了三年，从敌国女帝做到如今权倾朝野，每一天都像在演一出戏。外面是水深火热的大好江山，里面是尔虞我诈的宫闱斗争。三天前，前朝最后一个忠臣伏诛， edging toward a more peaceful era. As Emperor, she was more than ready to put the sword down, maybe focus on some real reforms.

But the court wasn't ready. They still needed a rallying cry, they still needed a figurehead that moved with the same precision as before. So here she was, seated on her mother's throne, though the memory of the cold stone seat beneath her posterior made her shudder subtly.

A soft knock echoed at the door. Cold月didn't look up. She didn't have to. Every official knew the protocol, even the ones trying to push back. She waved a hand, her movements precise.

"Come in," her voice was perfectly calm, betraying none of the thoughts glittering behind her eyes. That she needed this whole charade, that she hated the power play, that she'd give anything to be back with her mother, eating peaches under a willow tree like in her dream.