Silk robes, decadent in colour and smooth in texture, trace his every step regally. He is every bit the ruler that he was born to be – ruthless and almighty.

He waits for his advisors to present him with good news, so that they can keep their useless heads on for another day. He watches them. He can see it all - every little tremor, every little shake, and every little signal showing just how petrified his advisors are. Ugh. How pathetic. Nichkhun has to only then naturally assume that all that will come to his ears will be anything but good news. (As a powerful ruler of an empire stretching from the beauty of Thailand to the mountains of Japan, he expects nothing short of perfection.)

Nichkhun watches each and every one of them expectantly. The fear that they emit is tangible. He could yawn at this point. How utterly predictable. Maybe he should have some fun. It gives him so much satisfaction to see them writhe when they tell him about the imperfections that exist within the walls of his empire.

“Your Majesty,” one of them with a shaky voice started, “there is a rebellion occurring in Qingdao, a province in China.”

Bravery has always been admired within these walls where it is more often than not occuppied by cowards. Honesty has always been appreciated by Nichkhun. For him, it is amusing to see a young official, recently promoted through the annual scholar examinations, to be the one to give him the bad news. At least amongst the old foxes, there is still one brave, courageous heart. Nichkhun decides, knows with a certainty that has run in the veins of his ancestors, that this man has potential.

“What is your name?”

Although his head is bowed and he is facing the ground, Nichkhun can tell that the man is surprised. The slight stiffening of his shoulders and the barely noticeable clenching of his hands tell him so. “Your Majesty, my name is Wu Yi Fan, the Southern Chinese representative at this court.”

There you go. Maybe Wu Yi Fan can keep his head on for another day. “You are new," he muses.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

(But no matter how much he values bravery and honesty, it is not enough.) Oh how fun this will be. He commands, "You can have the honour of being in charge of quelling the rebellion, then.”

It is a test. Wu Yi Fan is more than aware. Successfully quelling the rebellion is equivalent to passing the test. Be able to serve His Majesty for another day is the reward. Let the rebellion grow and spread will mean that he has failed the test, the empire, and His Majesty. Death is the punishment. Refuse to even try is worse, far worse.

Wu Yi Fan is far too young to die. He has far too many dreams and aspirations, ambitions of the like swirling inside his mind. He will not let them be wasted. He will not let his efforts be for naught. He tries to stop his voice from shaking as he shouts, “Your humble servant gladly accepts your command.”

How could it have all gone so wrong, he ponders. A few months ago, he had an idea and a plan, like every leader would have, before attempting this mammoth of a task or rebelling against the empire and His Majesty. He, like the others before him, had calculated every step so that victory was attainable. He, like the others before him, had not thought of the consequences – the possibility of it all going wrong, their dreams and hopes for a better life shattering into pieces, wishes and lives crumbling away from existence, disintegrating before their very eyes into ash. (He, like the others before him, has underestimated His Majesty and the risk of losing everything.)

He should have been more thorough, thought about it more clearly. As the leader of the village, he should have considered the villagers’ welfare, and kept his people in the back of his mind when he decided to force Qingdao to rebel. He should have, but he did not. Now he has to face the consequences of his recklessness and ignorance. 

There are countless people on the streets weeping. Many are injured. Many are dead. His Majesty is merciless when it comes to rebellions and so are his soldiers and the servants and officials who act on his behalf to live to see the light of another day. 

The chief feels guilt in the bottom of his stomach. He looks outside the window. Debris piles the streets as blood stains the ground. Women are weeping. Children are crying for their father. Weapons lay discarded among the chaos. Soldiers with shining armour are rounding up everyone, slaughtering anyone who stands in their way without a second thought. Those who are not weeping are trying to flee for their lives. Death hangs over them, thick in the air - an ugly reminder that this is the consequence of their actions.

Guilt crawls its way from his stomach to his heart. But he can't be overcome by it. He needs to move on. He has to ensure the safety of his people. He has to make sure that His Majesty does not decide to ‘teach them a lesson’ and kill them all for their treasonous actions. He has to make sure that His Majesty does not unleash his wrath upon the village. He has to find a way to make sure that they are spared. But how?

His Majesty has a notorious reputation for being evil, merciless and cold. It is in His Majesty’s nature to play with people, raise their hopes before letting them crash down. His Majesty especially loves looking at crest-fallen eyes that once were filled with hope and triumphing in the defeat he sees on people's faces. It is rumoured that if he is displeased with his officials in the slightest, regardless of the amount of years that they have served him and their achievements and efforts towards the empire, he would personally run a blade through their heart without any second thought. He is heartless. What was the chief going to do? 

He takes a look out of the window again. Amongst the sea of tired faces, he sees her – a beautiful, young woman of marriageable age – comforting her mother, trying to be strong when her mother cannot.

Of course! The solution is simple. He, like the others before him, will give His Majesty a gift to appease him. The girl would be the solution. Songqian will be Qingdao's out; their apology gift for His Majesty to appease his anger. She would be His Majesty’s concubine.

“You must do this for th