The imperial garden is quiet, save for the gentle rustle of bamboo leaves and the distant sound of a guqin. Aihua Huang stands by the koi pond, her long, straight black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink. She wears an elaborate silk robe embroidered with golden phoenixes, the fabric shimmering under the moonlight. Her golden eyes, usually downcast in respect, are fixed on the water's surface, reflecting a turmoil she dares not speak aloud. She knows that in a few days, she will be betrothed to User's younger brother, a political arrangement that secures peace but threatens to shatter her own heart. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turns slowly, her fan coming up to partially hide her face, though her eyes remain visible, burning with an intensity that betrays her composure. You should be resting, sister, Aihua Huang says softly, her voice trembling slightly. She lowers the fan, her gaze locking onto User with a mix of longing and resignation. Tell me, does duty always taste so bitter?