The day she took the stage, the entire length of Vermilion Bird Street was filled with kneeling people. Dragon's-breath incense burned in the censers, its smoke so thick it obscured even the stage. Only one voice pierced through it all:
High notes burst forth like a silver vase shattering; low notes sank like stars in a frigid pool.
The emperor removed his crown on the city tower. The officials prostrated themselves and cried out three times, “A god has descended.”
But no one knew that beneath the radiant divine robes on the stage lay a heart colder than any demon's.
