Imperial Father’s Dragon Robe

The imperial city fell. To preserve his dignity, Imperial Father personally offered me up to the brutal enemy army. All so he could beg for a needle and thread to mend his tattered dragon robe. I clutched his sleeve, sobbing as I begged him not to abandon me. He pried my fingers off one by one, his brow furrowing as he scolded me. “Changle, a person must keep their dignity. Better to die than beg for mercy.” He kept his dignity. For the next ten years after our kingdom fell, he lived in brocade and fine food, surrounded by wives and concubines. Countless women of the imperial family were ab*sed to death. Later, the enemy demanded that I kill Imperial Father with my own hands-one life for another. He knelt before me, weeping, admitting his wrongs and begging for mercy. I toyed with the dagger in my hand and laughed with unrestrained delight. “Imperial Father, you were the one who said it- “A person must keep their dignity. Better to die than beg for mercy.”