Hua Jing had just reached the door when she heard the sharp, commanding voice of the First Consort.
"We have a word to share with her."
She stilled for a moment, then her expression changed—her amusement fading into something calm, controlled, unreadable.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward, her movements unhurried, like a queen descending her throne to greet unworthy visitors.
The morning sun cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the delicate sharpness of her features, the cold brilliance of her gaze.
As she emerged from her chambers, she met their stares head-on—without fear, without hesitation.
"I am here," she said, her tone even but powerful. "You can share your word."
A heavy silence settled between them.
The First Consort, standing in the center, took slow, deliberate steps toward Hua Jing, her gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.
The change in Hua Jing was unmistakable.
She had always been beautiful, but today—today, she was breathtaking.
