Zhu Deming didn't like playing games.
Not because he couldn't but because he was too good at them.
Most of the women that he met all wanted to see behind the half mask, to see if it was truly as bad as what everyone said. They were willing to do anything to see the monster beneath the silk of the imperial family.
He sat quietly in the outer garden chamber, his posture relaxed with one arm resting over the carved back of his chair. A small cup of wine rested between his fingers, untouched. Across the room, music played—soft guqin strings paired with the trickle of a water basin. Lanterns swayed gently overhead. Everything about the room was curated. Warm. Inviting. Harmless.
The perfect illusion.
