Shangguan (上官婉儿) MBTI Personality Type
Personality
What personality type is Shangguan (上官婉儿)? Shangguan (上官婉儿) is an personality type in MBTI, 1w9 - so/sp - 127 in Enneagram, RCOEN in Big 5, in Socionics.
[1/2] Shangguan as a Sexual E1 SX1—Once just a humble servant girl kept hidden away in the palace because of her grandfather's old ties to a failed rebellion, she spent years haunted by nightmares of murderous flowers and endless darkness. But things changed when she became the palace painter’s apprentice, finally earning the freedom to wander the streets of Chang’an. Now, she's a woman driven by revenge and a determination to uncover the truth about her grandfather’s mysterious coup. With the peonies blooming once more and that shadowy figure reappearing, she’s closer than ever to uncovering the truth. In an instant, buds burst open, unfolding into lovely peonies. The little girl, curious, reaches out to touch them, but as her fingers graze a petal, they shrivel and dissolve into a dark mist, swirling around her, trying to drag her into a bottomless void. She cries out, thrashing to break free, until she jolts awake. Her heart races. It was that awful nightmare again. She’d been haunted by it since she was three, always feeling like it held some hidden clue, tied to a distant memory buried deep in her mind. The Royal Library isn’t just filled with precious books from around the world; it also holds countless calligraphy pieces and scrolls painted by renowned artists. The library is tended by maidservants who ended up there after being sentenced for crimes in court. One of them, Shangguan, has a story of her own. Her grandfather was once an official and tutor to the previous emperor’s deposed prince. When the prince’s rebellion failed, her family faced harsh punishment, men were sent to the army, and women to palace servitude. Shangguan entered the palace at just four years old. Over the years, she watched her family slowly disappear, leaving her to grow up alone. Though her library work is heavy, she’s committed to practicing calligraphy daily. It’s the one piece of her grandfather, a celebrated calligrapher, that she still holds onto. When the Empress’s birthday rolled around, someone suggested a renowned painter to create her portrait. Since she was wrapped up in her usual duties, she arranged for him to stay in the palace library to make things easier. The painter split his time between following the Empress around for sketches and diving into his work in the library. To help him out, the library official assigned the clever Shangguan as his assistant. The painter was not only skilled but also witty, knowledgeable, and full of interesting stories from his travels. His portraits were incredibly lifelike, and he could capture landscapes and scenes he’d seen on his journeys with just a few strokes. She couldn't help but feel envious, she hadn’t set foot outside the palace since she was four. "If you haven't seen the world, if you haven't witnessed human joy, anger, sorrow, and desire, then your brush will only ever depict the surface of things. The same is true for painting and writing alike. And yes, I am talking about your writing." She wasn’t thrilled with the famous painter’s critique, but the painter was off in his world, mumbling to himself. "You must have learned the Shangguan style. In the past, Master Shangguan's calligraphy was indeed stellar. It was said that the master was kind and honest, and so his calligraphy was round and full—an extension of the master himself. It exuded prosperity. You have learned it, but not well. Look, you can see hesitation and sloppiness here. Although I'm a painter, I can see clearly that the characters lack strength. Whoa... don't cry! It's normal for a young girl to be lacking in knowledge... No, come on, I didn't mean it like that..." She suddenly stood up, startling the painter, who took a step back. But she just gave a respectful bow and said, “Thank you, Master, for your guidance. There’s something in me that hesitates every time I write.” She then shared her troubling dream with him. He paused, thinking. “In the dream, what are you doing when the peonies appear?” She looked confused. The painter went on, “We dream about what’s on our minds during the day. There are no peonies in the library, yet they keep showing up in your dreams. Maybe there’s something you’re longing to do, and these peonies appear whenever you think about it.” She sighed, “I’m trying to copy someone’s calligraphy.” “Whose calligraphy?” She shook her head, clearly frustrated. No matter how many times she tried, she just couldn’t finish it, and each time she woke up, she had to start all over again. “What we dream about at night sticks with us during the day,” she continued. “This dream is bothering me even when I’m awake, and it makes me second-guess every stroke of my brush.” “I want to know whose calligraphy it is too. I thought if I could figure it out, I might finally finish it and stop these dreams. But I’ve been searching through every artist and piece in this library, even my grandfather’s collection, for years, and I haven’t found a single thing.”
Biography
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