Page 116 of Savage Throne
And even shockingly, they chanted in English, not Mandarin, a choice that struck me as deeply as the sight itself because the East never bent its traditions for anyone—not for politicians, not for allies, not even for enemies.
But for her, for Moni, they had made an exception.
A sad smile spread across my face.
I wish she could see this.
They spoke in English because they wanted her to receive their messages deep down in her bones, to understand that she was not merely accepted but absolutely embraced.
She will be bigger than Mom.
I directed my view to the right.
Below, the Palace entrance was blanketed in flowers—wild arrangements of peonies, chrysanthemums, and plum blossoms laid out in a vibrant mosaic of reds, blues, golds, and whites.
Some had been placed with care.
Others had been scattered in fervent haste, offerings made with trembling hands and beating hearts.
Small notes were tied to many of the stems, and their messages undoubtedly were as personal as the gestures themselves.
I lifted my view a few inches.
Near the front gates even more crowds gathered and piled gifts there. From what I could make out, it was mainly exquisite silks, handwoven tapestries, and carved jade figurines.
I turned to the left.
Vendors lined the outskirts.
Chen had told me that they were selling tea blends inspired by Moni’s signature mix from the tea ceremony. An official list of what herbs she had used was never put out, yet still lines of people wound around the vendors, waiting to sip what they believed was a piece of her essence.
I let out a long sigh and looked at the signs.
Hand-painted banners, lovingly detailed, some bearing Moni’s name in sweeping calligraphy, others adorned with her likeness. They’d captured her perfectly—those wide, expressive eyes that held fire and vulnerability all at once, her delicate jaw, the faint curl of her full lips that hinted at a knowing smile.
The East—it seemed—had fallen in love with her.
Dear God, Father. You fucking did it.
A deep ache stirred in my chest as emotions surged.
Pride.
Fear.
Possessiveness.
Yes. It’s definitely starting. . .their obsession for her.
I knew how this would unfold because I had lived it once before. I had watched the East’s obsession try to consume my mother.
The adoration.
The worship.
The lengths people would go to just to catch a glimpse of her or earn a fleeting smile.
While it had been intoxicating to take in, it was also terrifying too. People who claimed they loved a person they didn’t even know could also be the most dangerous, their devotion serving as a double-edged sword.
