The rich fragrance lingering in the grand chamber filled Zhan's lungs as he breathed it in, then let it out slowly, taking in every detail around him. The chamber itself was extravagant....wealth so overwhelming it could hardly be called just a room. Yet in his heart, Zhan had already resolved that no display of luxury would distract him or weaken his determination. He had begun his journey toward victory, and nothing...not even the glitter of gold...would turn him aside.
A faint, confident smile curved his lips as he spread his arms, allowing the cold air from the air conditioner to wash over him, mingling with the heavy perfume in the air. His eyes closed briefly, then snapped open, his expression hardening. With a deep, resonant voice that seemed entirely different from before, he muttered:
"Now the real game begins. The monster faces a true warrior."
Since Dowager Ruyan's departure, King Yibo too had left the living room. Without delay, he made his way toward the chamber where Zhan had been taken, his mind tangled with countless thoughts.
The heavy doors opened once more, and King Yibo entered. Zhan, who had been pacing in thought, spun around sharply at the sound. Their eyes met. Shock ran through Zhan's chest as his heart stumbled in its rhythm. The way King Yibo's gaze lingered on him was unsettling, and yet Zhan could not look away.
The King moved to one of the high-backed chairs along the chamber wall and seated himself. Even the simple act of sitting radiated authority...the unshakable presence of a ruler. His bearing filled the room completely, so much that Zhan felt as though he were trapped in a prison cell rather than a golden chamber.
"Strip."
"Huh?!" Zhan froze, eyes widening.
The word rang in his ears, low and husky, commanding and oddly captivating. He locked his gaze on King Yibo, searching for some other meaning, but the King's eyes were unreadable. Before Zhan could gather his thoughts, the voice cut again, firmer this time:
"Do not make me repeat myself. Strip yourself."
This time, the weight of the order fell heavier. Terror sparked in Zhan's chest, but so did confusion. Did he really mean...? Was the King commanding him to bare himself entirely?
The intensity of Yibo's gaze left no doubt. Yes, that was exactly what he meant. The realization struck Zhan like ice water. His fists clenched. For the first time since the King's entrance, Zhan's pride flared. He glared back, his voice sharp and defiant:
"No. I will not strip for you. How dare you order me like that? Who do you think you ar...."
He never finished the sentence.
In the blink of an eye, King Yibo was no longer in his chair. He hadn't even seemed to move....one moment he was seated, the next he was standing directly in front of Zhan. The sudden nearness made Zhan's breath catch.
Before he could react, Yibo's hand moved swiftly, tugging at Zhan's outer robe and flinging it aside, then stripping away the second layer as if they were weightless. Within moments, Zhan was left standing in only his inner garments.
Staggering back in shock, Zhan's eyes widened further, but before he could retreat again, the King's hand clamped firmly onto his shoulder. The touch was light, yet in an instant, Zhan felt his entire body lock in place...as though invisible chains bound him still.
King Yibo's hand slowly lowered to Zhan's chest, pressing firmly against both sides. The movement made Zhan's breathing falter, his chest rising unevenly. Then Yibo's hand slid downward, tracing over Zhan's flat tummy in slow, deliberate circles, as though searching for something hidden there.
Zhan could no longer hold himself back. His lips trembled as he stammered, "Hey, w-what… a…are… y-you doing…?" But his words cut off abruptly, his eyes bulging, his throat tightening in a sudden hiccup that swallowed everything he meant to say.
The reason...King Yibo's hand had hold firmly around a certain part between Zhan's legs.
Zhan's wide eyes seemed as though they might tear from their sockets. King Yibo only smirked at his reaction, holding his gaze steadily. With a cruel amusement, he leaned closer, lips brushing Zhan's ear.
"I was just curious," King Yibo whispered. "I wanted to check if you were truly not a woman… because you have smaller waist and far too beautiful to be a man."
With those words, he released him, turned on his heel, and strode out of the chamber without a glance back.
Zhan remained rooted in place, frozen, his eyes wide and breath caught in his chest, staring after him.
After leaving the chamber, King Yibo withdrew into his private retreat...a small, secluded living room where none but his most trusted attendant was permitted entry. By palace law, not even his consorts had the right to step inside.
The golden glow of lanterns lit the empire outside, but Yibo's eyes saw none of it. His gaze was fixed inward, on thoughts too tangled to name. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back for a long while before finally exhaling and moving toward the adjoining chamber.
He did not lie down but instead sank into a chair placed at the side, his body reclining slightly as the seconds, minutes, and then hours ticked away on the great clock nearby. His eyes drifted closed, his face calm...yet so guarded that no one could read what storm lay behind it.
When the clock struck two, Yibo opened his eyes. In the dim light, their color could not be clearly seen, only the sharpness in their focus as the ticking pressed on.
- - - -
Meanwhile, Zhan was also restless. After Yibo's departure, he had changed out of his robes and into lighter clothes for the night. Opening a small chest, he carefully folded his garments away with a calmness that seemed forced. Then he stepped into the bath chamber.
At the faucet, when he first turned it, a stream of red....like blood....splashed out instead of water. His heart jolted in terror, yet he forced himself not to panic. He shut his eyes and steadied his breath until, like an illusion fading, the crimson vanished and clear water poured in its place.
He washed his face slowly, exhaling deeply, and returned to the chamber. Settling into meditation on the soft rug, he folded his legs and closed his eyes. For a long time he sat there, until at last peace seeped into his restless body.
Finally, he rose, climbed onto the enormous bed that in palace history had belonged only to King Yibo, and lay down. Adjusting the silken pillows and covers, Zhan let his eyes drift shut. Slowly, sleep pulled him under.
***
That same night, far away, silence fell over the house where Grandfa lay resting after entertaining the stranger with lavish hospitality. Wei Po remained quiet, sensing that there were words better left unsaid. After some time, Grandfa rose and went into his room, and Wei Po followed quietly, knowing he would not speak unless she began.
When they entered, she asked softly, "Shall I prepare your bathwater?"
He nodded without looking up. She slipped out and soon returned to tell him it was ready.
"You've eaten very little tonight," she ventured gently as he finished the meal she had left out for him after his bath.
At last, for the first time since his return, he gave her a faint smile. "It was enough," he replied simply.
Wei Po studied his face, knowing the smile was not joy but a mask for the burdens he carried.
"How is she?" he asked at last, the question pressing too heavily to hold back.
"With some ease now," Wei Po answered after a pause.
Then, rising, he said quietly, "I will go see her."
Mah was sitting in silence, staring blankly when they entered her room. She had not noticed their arrival until Wei Po touched her shoulder. She started slightly, then lowered her head. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Grandfa gazed at her for a long moment before speaking her name in a low voice.
"Song."
"Yes, Baba," she answered softly, her voice heavy with emotion.
"Worry or self-torment cannot change a person's destiny. Endurance and courage cannot block fate when it chooses to arrive. Strength or pride cannot push it aside at the moment it comes. Weakness or fear cannot bring back what was never meant to be yours. Only patience builds everything, even when it feels far beyond your own strength."
"Yes, Baba,"
Mah whispered with a trembling voice.
Grandfa smiled faintly and moved closer to her. A child never truly grows old in the eyes of his parents, even if he carries wisdom far beyond his years. Grandfa took Mah's hand in his own, and with the other he gently touched her head.
Mah, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, asked softly, "Baba, have we lost them too?"
He gave her another reassuring smile before shaking his head, resting her against his shoulder. "No, we haven't lost them, and we must not give up hope of finding them."
At last, the tears Mah had held back for days finally slipped free, dampening his shoulder…
★★.... ★★.... ★★....
That dreadful nightmare from which Zhan barely escaped victory had shaken him awake. He sat up in bed with a sharp breath, sweat damp on his forehead. He pushed aside his blanket, wiped his brow, and tried to steady his racing heartbeat.
His eyes scanned every corner of the chamber as if expecting to see the monstrous figures that had haunted his dream. But nothing appeared, and the silence gave him courage to climb down from the bed and make his way to the washroom.
He did not even think about King Yibo's absence from the chamber....though Dowager Ruyan herself had told him that it was meant to be his bedchamber for the night. His youth and innocence left him with no suspicion.
All that truly filled Zhan's heart was relief. Somehow, he had survived the night....he had survived the infamous Chamber of the Sorcerer. Whether King Yibo had spared him, or fate itself had intervened, he did not know. What mattered was that he was still alive, and he had no choice but to watch carefully what would unfold next.
This morning, he half-expected to find blood again, as he had last night...but there was nothing. After finishing his washing, he attempted his morning meditation. Yet a heavy drowsiness overtook him; though he resisted, exhaustion pressed him flat against the floor until he drifted into another deep, troubled sleep, his breath slow and heavy.
★★.... ★★.... ★★....
In the palace, whispers spread quickly. The body of the male royal consort had not been brought forth at dawn. Even Dowager Ruyan herself could not hide her unease. Time passed...minutes, then hours...and still there was no news.
The air grew thick with murmurs, from servants to high ministers. Even the attendants of King Yibo's own wing sat in tense silence, knowing too well the grim pattern that followed any royal consort who spent the night in that forbidden chamber. Yet none dared gossip beyond their walls....the palace was lined with watchful eyes.
★★ Dowager Taihou ★★
Not this morning only...her unrest had begun the night before. She had not closed her eyes once. From her chamber, she had stared across at King Yibo's wing for most of the night, her thoughts heavy with dread.
To her, it was reckless folly to hand over a youth like Zhan to the king's side, knowing the fate that had befallen so many others before. For all her strength, she could not stop her heart from trembling at the thought that, by morning, only Zhan's lifeless body would be carried out. Only herself and God's knows how much she love Zhan, it's like her own flesh and blood.
She had suppressed her tears through the long night, but as dawn crept in and no word came, her chest throbbed painfully, bracing for the news she feared.
★★ Daneen ★★
Daneen, too, had passed the night in torment. She had wept quietly until her eyes were sore. Zhan had come to mean more to her than she could ever explain...filling a hollow in her heart that she had thought would remain empty forever. To her, the boy was life itself, bright and fierce in a way she had never known.
But Dowager Ruyan's decision the night before had shattered that fragile sense of safety. Fear consumed her, and she could not escape it. From the moment the sky began to lighten, she had sat frozen, waiting like the rest of the palace for whatever news would come…
★★.... ★★.... ★★....

By the time King Yibo finally entered the chamber, dressed in a dark robe whose elegance gleamed faintly in the morning light, he stopped short. For a long moment he simply stood, silent, gazing at the room.
At first, he did not see Zhan...and fear briefly flickered in his eyes. He wondered, just for a breath, if the boy too had followed the path of so many others. But his expression quickly smoothed back into composure.
Then his gaze fell upon Zhan. The youth lay asleep, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. King Yibo watched him for several minutes, unmoving, as if weighing whether this boy was truly real....or merely another illusion of the cursed chamber.
At last, Yibo exhaled softly and turned his eyes away, only to return them again to Zhan's face. There he was....the cute, handsome and beautiful Royal consort breathing peacefully, untouched, alive.
NB
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