A man in black, a girl in white—stillness like a paused film frame. Then *she* arrives: fur, velvet, cash fanned like a weapon. The 100-yuan notes flutter past his face, not offered, but *thrown*. He doesn’t flinch. She smirks. The girl watches, eyes wide. This isn’t negotiation—it’s theater. And The Imperial Preceptor's Emergence begins not with thunder, but with a sigh and a dropped bill. 🎭