The royal palace of Joseon sat under a thick blanket of snow, the jagged peaks of its tiled roofs almost lost beneath the weight of the winter storm. A cold wind howled through the pine trees surrounding the palace grounds, carrying the promise of even harsher weather to come.
Lady Eun stood at the edge of the lotus pond, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the mountains met the heavens. The plum trees, their branches heavy with snow, appeared almost like statues frozen in time, their petals pale in the winter chill.
She tugged the collar of her thick, fur-lined jeogori closer, but the cold still seeped into her skin. Beneath the layers of silk and wool, her heart felt even colder. Her life, though gilded in silks and jewels, felt like an endless winter—a long, unyielding season of isolation. She was a mere concubine in the royal court, her days spent in the shadow of the queen's power, her nights lonely in her chambers.
"Lady Eun," a voice interrupted her reverie.
She turned to find a young man standing a few feet away, bowing deeply. His robes were simple, his appearance far from the elegance of the royal court. A scholar, perhaps, or a palace servant.
"I did not mean to intrude," he said, his voice soft yet clear.
Lady Eun's gaze softened as she looked at him. The young man was no more than a few years her junior, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a calm demeanor that seemed out of place in such an atmosphere.
"You are no intruder, Scholar Seong Jun," she replied. "What brings you to this cold place?"
Seong Jun straightened, clearly taken aback by her recognition. "I came to see if the plum tree has bloomed," he said, his tone betraying a hint of hesitation.
Lady Eun's heart skipped a beat at his words. The plum tree—its delicate blossoms were said to bloom only in the harshest winters, a symbol of resilience and fleeting beauty. She had been watching it for days, hoping for its bloom, but the weight of the snow seemed to hold it back, just as it held her heart in a vice.
"It has not bloomed yet," she said quietly. "But perhaps that is the way of all things. Beauty only flourishes briefly before it is lost to the world."
Seong Jun's eyes met hers, and in that brief exchange, something passed between them—a silent understanding, a shared sorrow.