The wine tasted flat in the Crown Prince's mouth, a bitter echo of the relentless ache that had become his constant companion. He sat in his study, the ornate calligraphy scrolls and military maps offering no comfort. His gaze fell upon a new painting—a portrait of Li Mei, rendered in gentle strokes. The artist had captured the shy curiosity he first saw five years ago, but to him, it was a living, breathing thing. Li Mei would later learn that every time he looked at it, a phantom pain seared through him, a memory of sorrow so profound it threatened to unravel him.
He was tired of the whispers, the expectations, and the weight of a throne he couldn't bring himself to care for. Driven by an unknown force, he drank the rest of his cup in a single swallow and rose, the pain propelling him toward Li Mei's chambers. He found her sitting by the window, the soft light of a lantern illuminating her profile. She looked up as he entered, her expression a careful mask of polite detachment. He ignored it, walking to a small table and pouring himself another cup of wine.
"You're still awake," he said, his voice a low rumble.
"I find myself struggling to sleep in this palace," she replied, her tone neutral.
He took a slow sip, the bitterness mirroring his heart. "It's a gilded cage," he murmured to the shadows in the room. He looked at her then, his gaze heavy with an emotion she couldn't place. "Every day is a performance. A constant battle against unseen enemies." He set the cup down with a soft click, the sound a punctuation mark on his words.
He moved to the window and stared out at the dark, silent courtyards. "I wonder sometimes… if all of this is worth it. The titles, the power." He turned back to her, and in his eyes, she saw it—the raw, unfiltered agony that she herself had carried from her past life. It was a mirror of her own pain. "Maybe," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "maybe the right answer for us was never to be in this palace at all. Maybe… giving it all up and just going far away was the right answer."
Her heart constricted. She had expected him to be annoyed, impatient. Instead, she saw a man on the brink of breaking, haunted by a sorrow she could feel but not comprehend. He didn't speak of a shared past, but his words were a testament to a shared pain, a deep-seated ache that spanned a lifetime. It was the first time she had seen past the Crown Prince and saw the broken man underneath.
Her heart ached for him. It was a reflex, an ancient ache that transcended the pain of a single lifetime. She could see the truth in his eyes, but she also saw the reason for his honesty: he was drunk. The wine had loosened his tongue, allowing him to speak of a freedom that could never be his.
Running away. Starting a life somewhere else. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking fantasy, but it would never be an option for him. Not with his mother's ambitions. She knew the Queen had suffered terribly for her son. He was her only child left, a solitary prince after his elder brother had died tragically young. The Queen had made countless sacrifices to ensure he was next in line for the throne. Her life with the King, Li Mei understood, had become a duty rather than a partnership. She had taken her role as Queen so seriously that the King felt he could only be a King around her. With his other concubines, he could sometimes simply be a man. This deep misunderstanding had strained their relationship, a chasm that had widened and closed her heart completely after the death of their first prince.
But what Li Mei also knew, something no one else seemed to, was that the King had never stopped yearning for his Queen's love. Behind the shadows, he had done everything in his power to protect her and Prince Lin. His affection, though expressed in a different, more subtle way, had never wavered.
He fell asleep then, the wine and the weight of his soul's pain finally taking their toll. He slumped back in the chair, a long, weary exhale escaping his lips. She watched him, a man so powerful in the light of day, now completely vulnerable in the lantern's glow. Her heart ached for him. It was a reflex, an ancient ache that transcended the pain of a single lifetime. She had planned to distance herself, to avoid the very love that had destroyed them before, but in this moment, all she saw was a broken man who needed solace.
She moved to him, her gown rustling like a whisper, and gently guided him to a more comfortable position. He was a heavy weight, and she struggled for a moment before he settled, his head resting against her shoulder. She didn't resist. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, and for the first time since her rebirth, she felt a sense of peace. Her body relaxed against his, and she too, drifted into a light sleep, a fragile calm in the eye of the storm.
That night, he had a beautiful dream. A memory of them, in their past lives, happy and in love. He would tell her about it later, recounting a vision of a simpler life, before the titles and the gilded cage. He dreamt of a private garden, bathed in the soft light of a new moon. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, and in the dream, he was laughing, a sound so full of genuine joy it made his heart ache. She was with him, her hand in his. He saw her, not as the guarded woman she was now, but as she once was: her hair, a cascade of black silk, was adorned with a single white jasmine flower, a stark contrast to her pale, porcelain skin. Her smile was a breathtaking thing, a pure, unblemished light that made him feel as if he were the only man in the world. He told her he couldn't take his eyes off her. He said her face was so perfect that he felt he could worship every curve and line. Her eyes, which now held the wisdom of a past life, were in his dream filled with a playful innocence. He remembered the feeling of her hand in his, her fingers tracing circles on his palm, and the effortless way they were simply, and completely, in love. There was no court, no consorts, no political schemes—just them, bound together by a love that was a sanctuary, a secret world that belonged to only them.
He told her he had never felt such perfect peace, such complete happiness. His mind may not have remembered, but his heart had never forgotten. His pain was real, but his fate was sealed, and Li Mei realized her own fate was inexorably bound to his.