Demon Beauty, Dressed at Dawn

I am a demon, dressing up and whispering to myself, gazing at my reflection in sorrow.

You are an owl, walking alone, a stranger on the shore with no way back.

Who would take drunken ramblings seriously?

In a lonely tower, how can I bear to let my fragrant hair turn to dust?

A beauty sighs and tips her cup,

her graceful waist sways as the jade flute's notes turn cold.

When the lamps burn low and the moon sinks, and a thousand favors have been betrayed,

only then do I understand that the glint of swords and knives comes to nothing.

Love is forsaken, and resentment finally breaks.

Ten years of careful plotting, ten years of humiliation and endurance. This clever, beautiful woman stands at the very peak of power, looking down on all her rivals. But is the man who talks and laughs so effortlessly a formidable, unfathomable foe, or a lover forever beyond her reach?

On one side are rebels wielding power over the court; on the other is an emperor who loves deeply and honors his bonds. Amid endless open and covert struggles, who can truly be trusted? Ruthless killings, faithless betrayals: could it all really be for the sake of that blood feud too terrible to revisit?

With all her finery washed away, and her face unadorned, should she choose a peaceful life or remain entangled in the endless battles? And between loving and being loved, how should she choose, and how can she let go? When the dust finally settles, who will be the one to shed tears of regret?