She was the brightest pearl on the grasslands.
She was the youngest imperial consort in all of history.
She was the most ill-fated and absurdly unfortunate consort in history...
In just three years, she went from being the grasslands' foremost princess, to an emperor's consort, to being imprisoned behind the high walls of the cold palace.
She had been through a cycle of heaven and hell.
When the new emperor ascended the throne and granted amnesty throughout the realm, her confinement in the cold palace was lifted.
The new emperor's favor, the warmth and cruelty of the world, changing times, and a troubled future...
And yet that year, she was only sixteen.
One glance within the imperial palace, and every beauty turns to dust.
In narrow sleeves and a breeze, I dance for you.
Willows break against the high walls; pearls pile up to make a tomb.
A grave for the imperial spring, flowing like water,
A grave for the king's thousand years,
A grave for the smiling mountains and rivers glimpsed over a shoulder,
A grave for the bitter spring nights beneath red candles.
Dance no more, my lord. Have you not seen?
All the myriad worlds turn to dust.
Clouds drift on; the qin's last notes fade.
Still, I sing of those days, of the imperial palace's song.
Well written. If you like it, stick with it. Go slowly, little by little. There will always be people watching and liking. The purpose of writing is to express your thoughts and hope that others will resonate with you. But I want to point out: some languages can be more concise.