Glass
The plum blossoms wept, leaving a crimson trail on the fresh snow. It was fast approaching the end of winter and yet the nights didn't seem to grow any shorter. Icicles formed on the skeletal branches of the trees in the imperial garden like the perpetual tear tracks of a forlorn wife, alone in her boudoir as she pined for her husband who was away at the distant frontlines.
A slight figure walked through this melancholic scene, accompanied only by a fresh-faced eunuch, who took his arm gently and ensured his elaborate flowing robes didn't snag as he continued his journey towards the tall pavilion up ahead. This eunuch might appear young but none were so blind as to cross him; he wore the verdant silk uniform of the second highest rank, equivalent to Lower Four in court official terms.
This was, naturally, the head eunuch of Aiyun Palace and the new empress' right hand.