Holding a Dream

In the twenty-third year of the Zhenguan era, the life of Li Shimin, the Tang emperor known as Emperor Wen, came to an end.

No one was by his side. He had even sent away the only palace maid earlier. In the dim light of the room, the fifty-two-year-old emperor could barely make out the curtains before him. Outside, the moon was often veiled by dark clouds. The shifting light and shadows exposed things hidden in the deepest recesses.

Only in this empty place, with no one around, could an emperor allow himself to grow weak.

His aged voice seemed to be murmuring something. His final "I'm sorry" reached no one's ears. A murky tear fell from the corner of his eye. His eyes closed, never to open again...

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