At the third watch of the night, all was silent. The solitary lamp on the desk flickered restlessly, casting a fluttering light across the humble dwelling—a chaos of shadows mirroring the turmoil within his heart.
He rose slowly, his steps heavy and deliberate, and approached the table. Beside the candle, a flower bloomed in its fullest splendor, its beauty almost unearthly in its intensity. It bore no leaves, only layers upon layers of blood-red petals, clustered together with reckless abandon, threatening to spill over the rim of its coarse clay pot. In the dim, yellow light, they shimmered with a velvety, sinister sheen.
This was the Prajna Flower. Rare not because it was difficult to cultivate, but because it was exceedingly particular—it required watering with the clear dew distilled from the midnight brew of Yanfushān tea, and it must be kept in perpetual darkness. Tonight, he watered it for the last time. After this, he could no longer tend to it, and the flower... would likely not survive. In the hands of those ignorant of its nature, it could not escape its fate of withering.
He lifted his eyes toward the open doorway. The night was thick as ink, utterly empty.
Today marked the joyous occasion of that person's return to power at Yanfu Palace. At this very moment, that person was surely nestled close to their long-lost lover. How could they possibly remember this remote corner? A bitter self-mockery welled up within him. To abruptly approach now to bid farewell, only to stumble upon their tender embrace, would only add to the awkwardness. After all, he was but an insignificant shadow, a disposable substitute. Whether he said goodbye or not, what difference would it make to that person? Yet... to depart without a word felt like a piece missing from his heart, suspended and unsettled.
He was silently despising his own pathetic desire to find an excuse to see that person one last time before his death, when a familiar, steady rhythm of footsteps approached from afar, clearly echoing in the silent night air.
His heart jolted violently, nearly leaping from his chest. Lifting his gaze, he saw a figure in purple robes glide gracefully into the room. The expression was indifferent, not a trace of warmth between the brows—exactly as it had been every time he'd come seeking solace.
How could this be? Why would he come? On a night like this, shouldn't he be by Qiu Rong's side? Could it be... that he still held a place in his heart after all? An indescribable surge of ecstasy instantly overwhelmed him. He struggled to rise, eager to greet this unexpected joy, yet his limbs felt weak and numb, unable even to stand—the poison of the Prajna flower had taken effect.
The Prajna Flower, fiery in nature, could unleash the body's latent potential, yet it contained deadly poison. Those who consumed its petals at midnight each night would see their martial prowess surge, only for the poison to gradually consume them, ultimately rendering them beyond cure. He had used this flower to help that person reclaim the position of Palace Master. Even if it cost him his life... it was worth it, wasn't it?
"You... why have you come?" His voice carried an imperceptible tremor as he could only gaze upward at the purple-robed figure slowly approaching. To see him one last time at life's end was perhaps heaven's final mercy. He lowered his eyelids, a faint, pitiful warmth stirring within his heart.
"Qiu Rong is unwell and should not exert herself, so I came to you instead." Dan Yuehen frowned slightly. Today was supposed to be his moment of triumph, yet Qiu Rong had fallen ill, likely shaken by the fierce battle earlier that day. After three years of longing, he had hoped to share tender moments upon their reunion, only to be thwarted. With nowhere to vent his pent-up restlessness, his thoughts naturally turned to Qin Zhong. He surveyed the humble room with impatience. "Why did you choose such a remote place? It took me ages to find you."
So... it was only because Qiu Rong was ill. The light that had just flickered in Qin Zhong's eyes instantly dimmed. He instinctively tried to push away Dan Yuehen's outstretched hand, but his body was too weak.
His resistance only made him appear to be playing hard to get.
Dan Yuehen chuckled softly, her fingertips catching the hem of his robe. With a slight tug, the fabric ripped.
"You're no novice. What's there to be shy about?" Her words were accompanied by the exposure of his tanned, muscular chest to the cool air, leaving him vulnerable.
"Don't... don't do this here..." Qin Zhong was overcome with embarrassment. The door stood wide open, and anyone could walk by at any moment.
He struggled to push himself up to close the door, only to be forcefully pinned down by Dan Yuehen onto the cold floor. The desk crashed over, sending the pot of blooming Prajna flowers tumbling. The clay pot shattered, scattering soil and crimson petals everywhere.
"My flowers!" Qin Zhong cried out, instinctively reaching to gather them, but Dan Yuehen held him firmly pinned beneath him.
Dan Yuehen glanced at the scattered petals, a careless smile curling his lips. "Born so ordinary, yet you favor these demonic flowers."
Qin Zhong twisted futilely, the hard ground digging into him painfully. He had long grown accustomed to Dan Yuehen's sudden demands wherever they were, yet deep down, he still instinctively resisted this rough, unyielding entanglement that offered no tenderness, existing solely for release. Dan Yuehen, however, seemed to relish his feeble struggle, as if it added to the thrill of conquest.
"Qin Zhong, you always know how to please me." Dan Yuehen's voice was hoarse with desire. His hips thrust forward without warning, plunging into the unprepared tightness.
"Ugh..." A searing, tearing pain shot through him. Qin Zhong grunted, his body curling in agony as fine beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead.
This reaction only fueled Dan Yuehen's excitement. He relished the helpless writhing beneath him, his movements growing increasingly frenzied. This body was resilient, enduring the torment—the most satisfying tool for his desires he'd possessed in the past year.
Qin Zhong closed his eyes, letting the agony mingle with the chill deep within his heart. Half a year ago, to aid Dan Yuehen in restoring his powers and reclaiming his authority, he had begun consuming the Prajna Flower. Originally, he had attained strength equal to Dan Yuehen's, enough to break free from this humiliating situation. Yet, every night at midnight, the poison took effect, leaving him helpless as fish on a chopping block, at the mercy of others. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but let out a faint, bitter smile.
Qin Zhong, oh Qin Zhong, this deluded obsession must finally be ended by your own hand. He gazed greedily at the face upon his body—a beauty that could turn the world upside down. That fleeting glimpse upon their first meeting had become a fate from which he could never escape.
After an unknown span of time, Dan Yuehen released herself within him, withdrawing as she drew out a trace of viscous, murky fluid. Qin Zhong collapsed to the ground, unable even to twitch a fingertip, watching helplessly as Dan Yuehen gracefully adjusted her robes, resuming her lofty demeanor befitting the Palace Mistress.
"Yun Zhongyu's divine essence is sealed within the Mystic Dragon Mirror. These next three days are crucial for breaking through the mirror. I must attend to numerous palace affairs. Qin Zhong, you shall watch over Qiu Rong diligently in my stead these days." Dan Yuehen's tone was flat, as if assigning the most mundane of official duties.
"Qin Zhong... was about to take his leave from the Palace Master..." He gathered his courage, his voice faint. "I wish... to leave Yanfu Palace and travel the world..." He had long prepared this excuse, unwilling to imagine Dan Yuehen witnessing his pitiful demise—poisoned, coughing up blood until death. Such a sight would surely earn only a cold glance. Better to slip away silently, vanishing body and soul, never to be seen again.
"Depart?" Dan Yuehen raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with mockery. "Did you not profess your devotion to me? Now you refuse even this small act for my sake?" He had long understood Qin Zhong's feelings and exploited them without mercy.
Three days... Perhaps this broken body could endure three more days. Qin Zhong's heart felt utterly desolate. He lowered his head and murmured, "...Yes."
Dan Yuehen seemed to have anticipated his compliance. Without waiting for further words, he turned and left, his robes fluttering as he vanished beyond the door. His strained resolve shattered instantly. A sweetness rose in Qin Zhong's throat as a torrent of blood surged forth, splattering onto the scattered petals in a startling crimson splash.
He crawled forward with great effort, trembling hands carefully plucking three of the most vividly vibrant Prajna petals from the shattered rim of the flowerpot. He placed them in his mouth. The petals' bitterness swiftly spread across his tongue, seeping deep into his heart....
Flower-Adorned Pavilion, where petals drifted freely amidst misty waves.
This was the finest lakeside hall within the Smoke-Floating Palace, its scenery breathtaking. Qin Zhong forced himself to endure the raging agony within his body, his steps unsteady as he walked along the long corridor leading to Qiu Rong's quarters. The dawn light began to break, and his magical power had recovered slightly, but his body still felt heavy.
No matter what Dan Yuehen demanded, he ultimately could not refuse. Just like that first time when he was mistakenly identified, he had crumbled completely at the mere command to "stay." Fortunately, all of this was about to end. Death was the ultimate release.
Disciples of the Smoke-Floating Palace bowed to him along the way, their gazes a mix of reverence, fear, and a hint of inexpressible contempt. Yesterday, when he first entered the palace with Dan Yuehen, his plain appearance had earned him scorn. Yet his display of power had stunned everyone. In this place where beauty determined status, an "outsider" like him possessing such formidable magic inevitably sparked speculation. Qin Zhong could only offer a bitter smile in response.
Arriving before the Flower-Adorned Pavilion, he saw a white-robed youth playing the zither within a pavilion. His brows were slightly furrowed, an expression that stirred pity even in Qin Zhong. It was Qiu Rong.
Qin Zhong waited until the youth finished his piece before stepping forward to bow respectfully. "This subordinate, Qin Zhong, has been commanded by the Palace Master to safeguard Young Master Qiu's safety for the next three days."
Qiu Rong's slender fingers brushed the strings as he replied coldly, "Did Dan Yuehen send you?"
"Yes."
"To keep watch over me, I suppose?" Qiu Rong snorted sharply. "Fear I might run away?"
"I dare not," Qin Zhong bowed his head. This was his second encounter with Qiu Rong, and the figure before him was a stark contrast to the pitifully fragile form that had thrown itself into Dan Yuehen's arms yesterday. Qin Zhong's heart sank slightly. This woman was likely no simple matter.
"I must ask him what he truly intends!" Qiu Rong declared, rising to leave.
Qin Zhong followed her out. "Young Master Qiu, the Palace Master is occupied with urgent affairs. Visiting now would be most inconvenient." The words felt absurd the moment they left his lips—how could Dan Yuehen refuse to see Qiu Rong?
Sure enough, Qiu Rong paid no heed, striding straight toward the front hall, the Tai Ming Palace.
The chamber was filled with Dan Yuehen's trusted disciples, each strikingly beautiful. As Qin Zhong and Qiu Rong entered together, all eyes turned to Qin Zhong—inquisitive, curious, even tinged with a hint of suggestiveness. In the Yanfu Palace, where dual cultivation was the norm, great magical prowess often signified a wealth of "experience." The stark contrast between Qin Zhong's dark, unassuming face and his profound magical prowess only solidified their assumptions.
Qin Zhong felt those stares piercing his back like needles, his face flushing repeatedly. Fortunately, his complexion masked it somewhat. He stared fixedly at the ground, wishing he could sink into it.
Qiu Rong had already thrown herself into Dan Yuehen's embrace, her voice soft and sweet: "Yuehen—"
Dan Yuehen's expression instantly softened as he gently stroked Qiu Rong's hair. Turning to the others in the hall, he said, "Everyone, withdraw."
They bowed and departed, their eyes lingering on Qin Zhong as they passed.
"Qiu Rong dislikes outsiders following her. Let him go," Qiu Rong pouted in complaint.
Dan Yuehen pinched his nose affectionately. "The Xuanlong Illusion Mirror has trapped Yun Zhongyu. These next three days are critical—we mustn't let our guard down."
"Then I want Yun Ruo from Xinyun Residence as my guard!"
"Is Yun Ruo any match for Yun Zhongyu? Qin Zhong may not be striking in appearance, but he'll protect you without fail. " Dan Yuehen's tone brooked no argument. "If you refuse his escort, you must remain by my side at all times."
"No way! Your official duties bore me to death." Qiu Rong twisted away in protest.
"Then I'll accompany you whenever I'm free." Dan Yuehen soothed him, then turned to Qin Zhong, his voice growing cool. "Qin Zhong, have you neglected your duties, causing Qiu Rong's displeasure?"
Qin Zhong froze, murmuring, "I... do not know." He recalled the look of disgust in Dan Yuehen's eyes when he first discovered their intimate moment after sobering up. To him, Qin Zhong was nothing more than a tool to be used.
Dan Yuehen pressed no further, speaking softly to Qiu Rong, "Rongrong, return with Qin Zhong first. I'll join you once my affairs are settled."
Qiu Rong reluctantly agreed.
Back at the Flower Brocade Pavilion, Qiu Rong's expression grew even colder. His dantian had been destroyed by the old Palace Master, forcing him to secretly rely on the Mystic Dragon Pearl for cultivation. Yet that very pearl was sealed within the Mystic Dragon Illusion Mirror. Now that the mirror was sealed, his magical power was blocked. He couldn't retrieve the pearl, and Dan Yuehen had dispatched Qin Zhong to watch him like a shadow, leaving him utterly frustrated.
Thus, Qiu Rong devised ways to torment Qin Zhong, demanding tea at random moments, alternating between coldness and warmth, subjecting him to constant torment. Yet Qin Zhong endured it all silently, showing no trace of resentment. Qiu Rong was secretly alarmed—this man was either profoundly calculating or... utterly dead inside.
"Fool!" Qiu Rong snapped. "I'm going for a lake cruise. Are you coming too?"
Qin Zhong bowed. "I am following orders, please forgive me, Young Master."
Qiu Rong deliberately led him to the edge of the Lake of Passion (Huaqi Lake), recounting how it earned its name from the falling petals of the Ti Huo Zui flower, which intoxicated the fish that drank the water. Yet her gaze lingered meaningfully on Qin Zhong's lower body. Qin Zhong flushed crimson.
Qiu Rong chuckled. "Such bashfulness doesn't seem like someone from the Smoke-Floating Palace. Could it be... you've only known Dan Yuehen?"
Qin Zhong was utterly mortified. His relationship with Dan Yuehen had begun as a mistake, and their entanglement afterward had been beyond his control. Having this connection exposed so bluntly left him feeling utterly ashamed.
Seeing his distress, Qiu Rong suddenly felt amused. Her pale hand brushed against his chest, her voice thick with innuendo: "Since you've never tasted another... why not try with me?"
"No! Impossible!" Qin Zhong cried out in alarm. Unable to summon his magical power, he struggled awkwardly. Qiu Rong suddenly cried out, "Oh no!" and pushed him away, her eyes darting anxiously toward the lake. "It's all your fault! My ring fell into the lake!"
Qin Zhong, trusting her words, hurried to the water's edge. The lake was deep, and the ring was nowhere to be seen. Just as he prepared to cast a spell, a powerful force shoved him from behind, sending him tumbling into the icy lake.
The bone-chilling cold of the lake water instantly overwhelmed him. Qin Zhong could have used his energy to leap out, but in his despair, he merely floated and sank in the water. Just then, he saw the figure of Dan Yuehen appear by the lakeside, Qiu Rong smiling sweetly at him.
A clear and familiar voice called out: "Rongrong, what are you looking at?"
"Look at that fool—he can even fall into the water while searching for something."
Seeing Qiu Rong's rare smile, Dan Yuehen felt a surge of comfort. But when Qin still hadn't come ashore, she frowned and coldly snapped, "Qin Zhong, do you intend to drown yourself in there?"
The lake water was icy cold, its toxicity intensifying. The blood spilling from Qin Zhong's mouth mingled with the petals, staining the water crimson, leaving no trace. Hearing that cold, urgent command, he finally struggled to his feet and slowly swam back to shore, soaked through and utterly disheveled.
"You're filthy! Change your clothes before coming back!" Qiu Rong pinched her nose in disgust.
"Didn't you hear me? Hurry up!" Dan Yuehen noticed Qin Zhong's unusually pale face, a fleeting unease crossing her mind. Yet she instinctively dismissed it as an annoyance, wanting him gone as soon as possible.
Qin Zhong silently watched Dan Yuehen for a moment, the last glimmer of light in his eyes extinguishing. He slowly bowed, his voice hoarse: "...Yes."
As he turned to leave, his steps faltered. The lake water had worsened his injuries, his qi dissipating. So, from beginning to end, he had been as insignificant as dust in his eyes.
"Hurry back. I have little time left with Rongrong. Should anything happen to him, you alone will be held responsible." Dan Yuehen's voice came from behind him, like the final straw that crushed all his resolve.
Qin Zhong staggered slightly, not turning back. He merely murmured a low response before fading into the distance at the corridor's end with unsteady steps.
Near Xinyun Residence, he was hailed by someone. Turning, he saw Yun Ruo. This woman possessed an elegant grace; though nearing thirty, she carried a unique charm, an anomaly within Yanfu Palace.
"Young Master Qin, our meeting before the palace this morning left me deeply moved. Might I have the honor of inviting you to my quarters for a cup of wine?"
Qin Zhong politely declined: "My robes are thoroughly drenched. I must return to change. It would be most inconvenient..."
"In that case, might I intrude upon your residence for a moment?" Yun Ruo's smile was warm and gentle. "I only wish to converse. Nothing more."
Unable to refuse, Qin Zhong consented.
Upon arriving at his humble abode, Qin Zhong emerged after changing his clothes to find Yun Ruo picking up a fragment of broken porcelain with a lingering petal of the Prajna flower. He held it to his nose, inhaling lightly, his expression grave.
"How long has it been?" Yun Ruo lifted his eyes, his gaze sharp and piercing.
Qin Zhong knew he couldn't hide it from him and answered frankly, "Just over two days remain."
Yun Ruo sighed softly. "As I suspected... When I saw you soaked through yet unable to dry yourself with qi, your steps unsteady, I knew it was either a severe injury or a deadly poison... Why have you let yourself come to this?"
Even an outsider could see the signs, yet the person by his side remained blind to them. Qin Zhong smiled bitterly. "Young Master Yun, I have a favor to ask."
"Speak freely."
"After I die, bury me in the mass grave. No tombstone is needed." Let my soul scatter cleanly.
Yun Ruo gazed into his lifeless eyes and nodded somberly. "Agreed."
Qin Zhong bowed solemnly. "Thank you. The Palace Mistress summons me. Forgive me for taking my leave." He smiled, a smile filled with desolation, then turned. His tall figure gradually faded into the shadows beyond the door.
Yun Ruo gazed at the direction he vanished, then after a long moment, let out a deep, drawn-out sigh. For such a man of profound loyalty and integrity to be entangled in the mire of the Smoke-Floating Palace—truly a karmic bond of misfortune.