Imprisoned Heart of an Emperor

The atmosphere in the imperial study was cold as ice. The female emperor Xiao Linghan sat upright behind the dragon desk, her phoenix eyes calm and still, reflecting the figure of Chu Mo kneeling on one knee. Days ago, she had summoned him into the palace with a single decree, granting him a nominal title—outwardly an honor, in truth a cage. Chu Mo was a sharp blade forged in the army, a wild spirit by nature. How could he endure these oppressive palace walls? He had fled three times, and been dragged back three times. This time, Xiao Linghan did not rage. She merely tapped the icy paperweight with her fingertips, tap by tap, as if knocking against his bones. Chu Mo understood: if he ran again, this autocratic sovereign would not hesitate to wash away his stubbornness with blood.