The morning sun had barely warmed the stones of Princess Zhi's courtyard when the Dowager Empress arrived.
Her footsteps were measured, deliberate, the sound of authority itself. Two maids followed behind her, each carrying lacquered boxes filled with medicinal supplements—ginseng, deer antler, rare tonics meant to nourish a woman's body after great loss.
Princess Zhi was seated near the window, wrapped in a pale shawl. Her face was calm, almost detached, as if the pain had already settled somewhere deep inside her where no one could touch it.
"Mother," she said softly, rising to bow.
The Dowager Empress waved a hand. "Sit. You are weak now. There's no need to perform etiquette."
The maids placed the boxes on the table. The Dowager glanced at them with satisfaction before turning her sharp gaze back to Princess Zhi.
