Chapter 5 · free to read
An invitation edged in Pei's crimson. In the harem, the favorite does not invite. She summons a corpse to its own banquet.
She seated me before one cup, poured and waiting. The whole supper was built around whether I would drink it.
Bitter-almond sheen. Crushed-kernel poison — a swift, clean killer that leaves the lips smelling of orchards. Meant for Wanqing tonight.
A physician's daughter never dines unarmed. On my tongue I set an antidote pastille — bitter, chalky, and between me and death.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.