Fu Ran's eyes were already open, fixed blankly on the mostly empty room around him. He was seated in a luxurious bed, much larger and more extravagant than his own back at Xingti Pavilion. Wearing only a flimsy inner robe that was loosely tied, he ached from a restless night of tossing and turning. Almost tempted to lay back down, he willed his mind to awaken further. Missing an important date, would be terribly ill-advised.

Instead, his legs began to move. The skin of his almost bare legs slid across the silky and smooth white sheets. No wonder he was so groggy, he had just woken up. On the last day of the month he had to report his findings.

Fu Ran was a modest fortune teller. Though, the nice, fancy room might go against that thought. Fu Ran stood up, donning his perfectly white robes, and his attention met with a vanity mirror near the entrance to his room. His feet tread across extravagant tiles.

Gold accessories were laid out in all different sizes on the vanity dresser. Fu Ran grabbed up the small little makeup compact and decided to touch up his neck before doing anything else. He then smiled at the mirror. The expression was perfectly practiced.

A pretty red earring was what his hands were drawn to immediately. He pushed it through the small hole in his ear and lightly adjusted his long hair around it. It was a strand of ruby gems connected by a thread of red. There were six gems, all about the same size. It was a few inches long and it dangled beside his neck. The stark color of red was bright against his pale skin.

He then began to pick up the golden head accessories like he had done this hundreds of times. It was almost akin to a bridal tiara, with the dangling shiny bits of gold and gem. He wore it low, however, resting about at the base of his neck. He painstakingly wrapped bits of hair around it until it was decorated in a low wrapped bun.

Fu Ran’s face was gentle and pure of issues. Not a sign of tiredness at all. Eye bags long since vanished, and his eyes showed a small flicker of peace and acceptance. The largest different might have been the faint hint of unrecognizable maturity worn on his eyes. A knock, knock was heard at the door. It didn’t sound rushed or angry. “Coming, Song Lishu.” Opening the door, a cute little girl with her hair tied into low brown buns smile patiently. She looked about 15 or 16. She brought her hands up to her chin, intertwining her sleeves, to give a bow.

“Seer, Fu. Has this all knowing one readied himself?”

“You need not bow to me, Song Lishu. Raise your head.” Fu Ran gently touched the tips of his fingers to her cheek to lift her face to look at him. He froze. Song Lishu had some strange marks on her neck, barely covered by her hair and the cloth of her robes. Fu Ran knew the parts covering her neck were pulled up a little high today… “Song Lishu?” When the girl saw his inquisitive gaze she let out a small squeak of surprise. She brought up her hands and waved them left and right.

“This-This servant should have never allowed hands such as clean as yours to touch this one! I…. I will quickly be on my way to repent!” She gave another bow before she quickly took off on her feet. Fu Ran noticed she favored one ankle a bit more than the other… Did she get that badly injured? That she shares damage on both her neck and her leg? I must look into this later… For now there isn’t too much time.

Fu Ran left the confines of his room and walked down the expansive hallway with ease. The layout made was illogical at best, and was impossible to tread at worst. Had he not traversed these walls hundreds of times in his mind, he would, without a shred of doubt, be lost. His feet glided elegantly through the gilded tiled halls until he came upon a single room. Two large carved doors were shut in front of him, with two young men at either side.

Upon Fu Ran coming closer, the men opened the door and allowed him to pass.

A light purple curtain was the first thing to catch his eyes. It filled his vision and commanded the eye. It was such a vibrant color, and it was one he loved. It shared light purple tones with the tree in his private garden. The tapestry covered a silhouette of a man with an imperial crown worn on his head. The figure of the man was large and built, and he leaned heavily to the left side, his chin propped up on his bent wrist.

Fu Ran knew there was a dark stare behind the sheer barrier because he could feel it. “Enter,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled throughout the room. This sent shudder’s through Fu Ran’s body and caused his shoulders to sit unsteady. He walked towards the center of the room, kneeled to his knees and raised his sleeves in a bow.

“If I may give my regular report, Your Highness,” Fu Ran spoke with a tone of utmost respect.

“You may.”

“Come on the eighth month in the Lunisolar Calendar, the same attack already predicted is to still occur.” Fu Ran tried to hide behind his sleeves further, avoiding eye contact with those golden eyes. Luckily they were mostly obscured.

“So efforts have done nothing to change the predicted outcome?” The emperor’s tone did not change. It remained flat and nearly uncaring.

“No. It is regrettable,” he said, sympathizing with the upset tone.

“You may be excused.”

“I have some advice-” It came out too fast. The words almost caught in Fu Ran’s throat, and he tried to swallow them back down, but they had already entered the room. Curse this dream, he mentally wailed. A placid smile was stuck on his face, but the beats of sweat now forming were polarizing to his state of being.

The emperor shuffled. “Advice…?” he asked. The body language alone spelled an incoming horrific tale. Fu Ran could see the knuckles slightly move as the man gripped onto the front arm rest of the throne. With a building sense of danger, Fu Ran tightened his lips into a straight line.

I want to leave this horrid dream!

However, that was never an option. So instead, he took in a sharp inhale of air, before trying to damage control. “May this insignificant fortune teller ask for forgiveness, Your Highness? This one spoke out of turn.”

“That you did…” The emperor still, didn’t let his voice change, but Fu Ran knew how angry he would become.

The purple thin fabric was abruptly gripped, fingers wrinkling and bunching it under their hold. Fu Ran braced, anticipating the emperor’s next action. He swung his arm, fully extending the curtain. The sound of popping from the clasps that held up the fabric sounded like a barrage of metal flying around and hitting onto the tiles. A few even managed to roll inches away from Fu Ran. He winced his eyes, but sat eerily still, feigning calmness.

While the sound of clanging clasps calmed, the curtain remained in the air, before limply falling to the ground. That delicate fabric had revealed a man, who wasn’t at all dressed in a manner that fit the imperial crown atop his head. His clothes were robes with wild patterns of red and black half moons drawn on them. The most distinct of these strands sat right behind the imperial crown. It reminded Fu Ran of a crescent moon shape, and it was intentionally pulled out from the main mass of hair.

The pale skin of the emperor’s knuckles flushed beneath his clenched grip, veins popping out on his fist. “You… Have no idea how infuriating you can be.” The emperor’s tone finally shifted, but the new sound was dangerous. He hissed, “You think this advice is sought? Have you not done enough already by notifying them where you were located? I know damn well what that sect wants!”

Worriedly, Fu Ran sat up straight and nervously said, “Your Highness.” His heart beat rapidly and his body near convulsed in terror.

No. Calm down. There is nothing new here, Fu Ran thought. This scene was normal, as if this was more common than the morning sun in his window every day. Forcing deep breaths into his lungs, he demanded his body to calm itself.

He feared the man in front of him, but he held himself with enough respect to act like he didn’t.

Seeing the defiance in Fu Ran’s eyes, the emperor grabbed him up by the collar of his robes and forced him to stand. Fu Ran wasn’t awfully shorter than the other man, so his feet could lay planted on the ground about eighty percent. This didn’t mean to say that he didn’t struggle. He grimaced, and with the newly added blockage to his airways, he could barely hold his eyes open.

The emperor's eyes were devoid of everything but rage. Near lifeless other than at singular horrific emotion. Frightened, a whine of both agony and strained worry fell from his lips. Fu Ran’s eyes widened when his feet found solid ground again. At first he, laughably, thought he was being set free from the torment, but the emperor moved.

A hand landed firm on his shoulder, and began to slide upwards, planting itself at the soft skin on the base of his neck. A single digit pulled away from the rest of the emperor’s hand and pressed into the center of Fu Ran's throat. This action further blocked airflow. “This voice of yours has caused nothing but problems,” the emperor said calmly. Fu Ran kept his eyes cold, despite the serenity in that sentence providing more demand for worry. The rest of those fingers followed, and found a place perfectly wrapped the slender white nape.

Fu Ran took in a few preemptive breaths of air, before the grip could tighten. He was going to be missing the freedom of oxygen very soon. The emperor’s hands squeezed down harshly and pried a pitiful cry from Fu Ran. Eyes screwed shut, no longer able to fight open due to the sudden choking grip.

Near growling, Tian Han demanded, “Look at me.”

Being in no position to argue, or display more acts of defiance, he folded. There was no choice but to look, and lock his vision with honey-colored eyes. Can you not see that I am looking? You damned Tyrant Emperor! Fu Ran’s lips quivered. After about a minute of this tight feeling on his throat, and forcing a continuous stare, he let out a whimper. His eyes burned with the threat of tears and, when he could hold them back no longer, they streamed.

He cried, pathetically yet without much vocalization. Despite his legs giving out a long while ago, he still didn’t fall to the ground. His hands had to borrow the sturdiness of the emperor's arm just for him to keep from accidentally snapping his own neck under his limp weight.

The emperor’s eyes cleared a little bit, but no positive expression replaced the rage. It was more like it had all vanished. His expression returned to that of the void, nothingness. Once tight fingers began to loosen, and like a sack of rice, Fu Ran tumbled to the ground. He caught himself inches from the ground with his wrists.

The room was filled with the sounds of footsteps, an awful sounding cough, gagging, and messy inhales of air. “You are dismissed,” the emperor said blankly. The sounds of boots became more and more distant, and eventually led to the shutting of a door.

There were no thoughts in Fu Ran’s mind.

He merely spent the next few minutes sitting in a kowtow position. His breathing struggled to regulate. Even when his forehead pressed to cold tiles, he felt the coolness alone wasn't enough to provide comfort. He stayed like that for too long.

The makeup was certainly going to need to be reapplied to his neck. Again.

Fu Ran felt the strength come back into his upper arms after what felt like forever, and he began to push up to a regular sitting position.

Fu Ran’s eyes met gold. “Shizun?” The voice was child-like, and familiar.

“Aa!” Fu Ran almost completely tumbled backwards. Wan Yu now stood in front of him on those white gilded tiles. Wait- Wan Yu? Why are you here?