The candles in Wen Ji's chambers had long since burned out.
The room was shrouded in darkness, the door to her room was locked from the inside, the windows were closed shut, and the curtains had been draped over them.
Even the servants that were supposed to tend her were sent away, even outside the gates; not a single soul could be seen.
Concubine Wen Ji, on the other hand, was sitting in a conspicuous corner of the room. She sat in silence, still as stone.
Her knees were drawn up onto the velvet seat beneath her.
Everything about her seemed different; she was wearing makeup, but it was darker in shade, and her clothes were thin and black. Her usual tied-up hair was let loose on her shoulders as she sat there staring at a copper mirror covered in a blue gauze piece of cloth.
Leaning forward, she pulled at the fabric and threw it on the side. She turned back at the blurry mirror and looked into it intently.
