Imperial Palace, Hanjian
Yu Zhen solemnly sat in his private study, surrounded by stacks of neatly organized documents. The woody scent of the black ink filled his nose with each stroke of the brush on the parchment. Light and fluid, he made no mistake in writing.
He sat within the spacious room whose walls were lined with circular bookshelves and small, meaningful pieces placed upon the panels.
From the clay horse he had sculpted as a child to the broken arrow which he preserved to remind him of his first perfect shot, everything was arranged to his desire.
This room was always known to be serene and quiet. No one dared to cause a ruckus in here, not even his advisor and right-hand woman.
The pleasant scent of eucalyptus with a hint of orange peel wafted in the air in the peaceful silence.
However, things were different beyond the doors leading to this tranquil paradise.
