Xu Shuqiao stood before the doors of the imperial study, her thumb thoughtlessly smoothing the wrinkles of the fabric atop the memorial. The midsummer's wind swept by the skirts of her court attire, the breeze making the tassels at her waist sway. The sunlight glinted such that one's head grew dizzy and their eyes grew blurred, and she shifted her feet, wanting to hide away under the eaves, when she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps. "Xu-daren," Xun Zhu's voice floated along with her footsteps, "you'd best hurry up and come in; her majesty is waiting for you." When she finished speaking, she extended a hand, gesturing to the inside of the hall, and Xu Shuqiao followed it inside. However, the instant she entered the imperial study's threshold, cold sweat arose on Xu Shuqiao's back. It wasn't because of her; it was because of the content written in that memorial of hers—the jaw of anyone who saw it would drop from shock. The incense lit...