The venom of humiliation was a poison that Wei Ruyan knew well. She had administered it countless times, savoring the way it made her victims writhe. But to be its target was an agony she had never imagined. The fire of her rage was a cold, creeping thing that froze her from the inside out long after the tea ceremony had disbanded.
Back in the opulent prison of her chambers, she swept a priceless Ming dynasty vase from its pedestal. It shattered against the marble floor with a satisfying crash, the sound a small echo of the chaos in her soul. Her maids flinched, cowering in the corners.
"Get out!" she shrieked, her voice, usually a melodic instrument of manipulation, now a raw, ragged thing. "All of you!"
