Mingxuan was silent for a long time. At last, he walked up the jade steps and sat on his throne, waving a hand. "Come here."
Xiangge's heart pounded. He took a step forth, then stopped. He could not understand what he was feeling. Why was that person calling him? In the end, he turned to leave the hall.
Mingxuan's firm voice pierced through the silence. "Are you defying Zhen's decree?"
Xiangge froze. Then he crossed the hall quickly, got up the jade steps, and stopped before the throne. "What is it?" he asked rudely.
Mingxuan tapped the jade desk thrice with the tip of his finger. "Sit."
A chill ran down Xiangge's spine. "I–"
"Sit."
Xiangge slowly sat on the brim of the desk, facing him. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, filling his lungs until he felt light-headed.
Mingxuan, even in this position, seemed taller than him. His face showed no emotion. "Untie your belt."
The words slapped Xiangge as if being dumped by a bucket full of ice. His mind went blank, body trembled, heart pounding against ribs. He swallowed hard.
For a bare moment, memories flashed past his mind. Memories of those same words being spoken... One cold and unpleasant night that he tried to hold to his dignity, to flee, but lost everything through his grasp...
Xiangge lowered his head, suppressing those memories. A convulsive sniffle escaped his lips. A tear slid down the tip of his nose and fell. He loosened his waist belt with shaking hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red. "You cleared my name. So... now I should listen to you?"
Mingxuan's gaze did not waver. "No. Zhen is your superior. So you should listen to Zhen." He slipped his hands beneath Xiangge's robes and pressed his palms against his back. The injury flared at once under his touch.
The muscles beneath the bare skin was swollen, throbbing with pain. Xiangge gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply in agony. Pain wrung his back as if molten fire crawled along his spine, then slowly bled into a strange warmth.
Mingxuan's hands moved over his back with slow rhythm, cold in expression yet gentle in motion. He pressed and massaged the swollen skin, and with each touch, a faint pulse of spiritual energy seeped into Xiangge, dulling the pain.
It took a moment before Xiangge realized what was happening. Mingxuan was healing the deep injury in his spine.
No one spoke. The hall was still except for Xiangge's ragged, restrained breaths and the mournful wail of the wind outside.
Xiangge gulped, closing his wet eyes. A shudder ran through him as he tried to grasp the why of it all, why Mingxuan broke him only to mend him, why the same hands that had wrapped around his throat now eased the fire in his back.
His body ached with exhaustion, every muscle heavy from the road, from kneeling on the cold floor for hours, from the endless tension that had coiled inside him like a living thing.
But the chilling scent of sandalwood gradually made him numb. His limbs felt distant, almost unreal, as if he were watching them from afar.
Slowly, his consciousness began to scatter.
At some unknown moment, the hands that had held him so firmly withdrew, and the pain that had seared his spine was gone.
Mingxuan's voice came quiet. "You can leave now if you want."
"What?" Xiangge's voice was hoarse. When he raised his face, their eyes met again.
"Didn't you want to live a normal life? Today Zhen allows you. Leave Yunshan Palace. Go as far away as you can, and never come back to my sight again."
The words hit like thunder. Like a blade ripping through flesh, draining his blood, drop by drop until nothing remained.
These were the words Xiangge had longed for. For years. Every night. Every waking moment.
He should feel relief. He should feel happy.
Instead, his chest hollowed out. His throat tightened. He tried to laugh, but his face twisted. In the end, he couldn't smile.
More and more tears poured down, hot and burning, and he couldn't stop them. His hands shook. Rage surged beneath the pain in his heart.
"So you knew. You knew I didn't kill her. You knew all along, and you–" He choked. "What are you trying to do?"
For a moment, Mingxuan saw not the young man before him, but the child who used to cry breathlessly in his arms. That weak and fragile thing that would anxiously stop breathing when crying...
Mingxuan wanted to wipe away those tears, like he used to do long ago. But in the end, he didn't.
Such things cannot be done anymore.
So he carefully pulled Xiangge's robes back into place and fastened his belt. When he spoke, his voice was indifferent. "You should thank Zhen. If you were still a convicted criminal, how far would you get before they hunted you down?"
Xiangge's throat tightened. "Mingxuan, don't think this erases what you did. I will never forgive you."
Mingxuan swallowed. Blood filled his mouth, bitter and black. Jinghuo was reacting faster than he thought. The wound in his chest was throbbing. He closed his eyes and said nothing. He let go of Xiangge.
Xiangge immediately got up and stepped back. Silence stretched again.
Xiangge knew he should leave, but something held him back. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "The poison..."
"Zhen is fine," Mingxuan said, voice carefully neutral.
Fine? After using a dozen energy-draining spells?
Xiangge gritted his teeth. "Don't forget it's Jinghuo! Shenya didn't even last one hour–"
"So what?" Mingxuan's expression hardened. "Zhen has endured worse than death. What's one more poison?"
"But you'll lose your cultivation." Tears burned Xiangge's eyes. He didn't bother wiping them away. "Can you bear that?"
Mingxuan's gaze fixed on him. "Consider it repayment," he said quietly. "I took something from you that night. Something I had no right to take. So I'll give you this in return. My cultivation. My power. Everything."
Xiangge staggered as though the ground had dropped beneath him. His vision blurred.
He stepped back, his head shaking in disbelief.
Once.
Twice.
"Mingxuan... You're mad!"
Mingxuan leaned back against his throne and closed his eyes. "Leave."
Xiangge said nothing. He did not bow. He did not look back.
He ran.
So Mingxuan never saw the tears still streaming down Xiangge's face. And Xiangge never saw the black blood trailing from Mingxuan's lips, dripping onto the jade like ink on snow.
***
Outside the Court Hall, Eunuch Zhu hugged a bamboo tree and retched.
He held onto the slender trunk for dear life, retching his soul out as if trying to cough up his ancestry. His robes were half-askew, face green, lips pale, and one foot slightly lifted like he was halfway to ascend.
Beside him, Rumeng massaged his own throat with both hands, his face contorted in a mix of guilt and exaggerated worry.
"Okay, okay! You agreed to the plan!" he protested, voice rising like he was defending himself in court. "And I did warn you. Any more delay, and you'd suffer worse!"
Eunuch Zhu snapped his head, his red eyes blazing with fury. "Suffer? You lunatic, this isn't suffering! This is murder! You're giving a sixty-year-old a heart attack!!"
Rumeng blinked.
Then, solemnly: "Well. I don't kill pigs."
Zhu dry-heaved again, almost collapsing onto the bamboo.
"Why you damn little–! Wait till I finish vomiting! I swear I'll shove your radish down your–RETCH!"
Their bickering was loud enough to startle nearby bats into flight. Neither noticed the slender white figure storming out of the Court Hall, robes whipping like torn wings.
They only realized something was wrong when Rumeng suddenly found a hand around his neck.
"Aack!! Lord Xuanji–!"
Xiangge's grip was tight and shivering. Rumeng gasped, slapping at his wrist in panic.
"Cough! Your Highness! My windpipe! Why is it always the neck?! Can't someone grab a leg for once? Or cough... maybe a shoulder?!"
Zhu, still bent over and swaying, glared sideways at him. "Should've left it at the palace gate if you didn't want it touched."
Rumeng's face twisted, eyes watering. "You're evil!"
"Fourth Prince!" Eunuch Zhu said with a pained bow, then immediately turned and vomited again.
Rumeng blinked. "Wait... Prince. You're crying–!"
Eunuch Zhu also turned around, startled. The Fourth Prince rarely even smiled; to see him crying was like watching snow catch fire.
Xiangge's eyes were red and burning, as if a raging fire was suppressed beneath their surface, dangerously close to madness. "Rumeng," he choked. "Where are the herbs I asked for? It's been three weeks! Three whole weeks!"
Rumeng's expression shifted. Gently, he pulled Xiangge aside. "Lord Xuanji, don't worry. Junshang won't die so easily.
Xiangge's breath hitched. "What–?"
"I already know," Rumeng sighed. "I was hiding behind a tree. I saw it all."
"Then... you know I... stabbed him–?
"I know you." Rumeng's voice softened. "You thought he'd dodge, right? I saw it in the way you moved. Hesitant, panicked. But your tricks won't work on Junshang. He raised you. No one knows you better than he does."
"I hate him... But still... he shouldn't die.
"He won't. Jinghuo is fatal to mortals, but Junshang's cultivation is the highest in Xuan Huang. He'll survive."
"But he'll lose his cultivation!" Xiangge said hoarsely. "He didn't even dodge. He just stood there and let me stab him like that!"
"Then why stab him?" Rumeng asked quietly. "If you go that far, you have to accept the consequences."
Xiangge kicked a nearby stone, fists clenched.
Rumeng looked at him with a bittersweet smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? That guilt. But isn't this what you wanted? He's hurt. So why are you crying?"
Xiangge choked. Tears kept spilling. He really looked like a lost kid.
Rumeng sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You care about him, Ah'Xiang. You just don't want to admit it."
Xiangge froze. His heart skipped. "Nonsense," he said hoarsely. His wet lashes trembled like butterfly wings. "He destroyed me. Don't ever say that again!"
Rumeng didn't flinch. "Love and hate... neither can be controlled. Deny it all you want, but you still have to face it."
Xiangge broke free with a pale face. He turned to leave.
"Wait!" Rumeng called. "If you're worried about him, trust me. He's not dying. Not yet."
Xiangge hesitated.
"Junshang carries a five-element core. The poison won't take hold immediately. The rest... is up to you." Rumeng squeezed his shoulder slightly.
Xiangge turned, dazed. The weight of those words pressed down.
"I already delivered the herbs and medicines. They're in your residence. You have seven days before the poison starts devouring him from within."
Xiangge stood frozen.
Then he laughed bitterly.
"What am I supposed to do?" he whispered. "Seven days? I've been trying to make an antidote for a year! What can I possibly do in seven days?"
Rumeng smiled, genuinely. "You'll find a way. Even if the antidote's not ready, you can still slow the poison. You just need time. And I trust you."
Xiangge looked stunned.
"...Yes," he whispered, like holding on to the last thread of light in a world falling apart. "Yes... I can..."
And with that, he disappeared into the night.
Rumeng's smile faded slowly.
"You stabbed him," he murmured. "You're drowning in guilt... so why can't you just admit you love him?"
He turned and found Eunuch Zhu was already gone.
***
It was deep into the fourth watch when Mingxuan stepped out of the court hall. The wind was frostier than usual. Mist melted in to his dragon robe of silk, soaking through the layers.
Yunshan Jade Palace sat high atop a tall peak, veiled day and night in drifting fog. Tonight, the mountain ranges beyond loomed ghostlike beneath the dark sky.
The wound in his chest ached.
Half an hour ago, Eunuch Zhu saw him cough up blood. Zhu knelt, wept, begged, asking him to take medicines. But he turned a deaf ear.
The blood in his mouth had already turned black. But it didn't matter.
It wasn't the wound that hurt.
Nor the poison.
It was something deeper. Something he refused to say out aloud.
He walked slowly toward Feilong Palace, his official residence.
Though there were no visible guards along the path, Mingxuan knew he was watched. Shadow guards lingered always, watching from corners no one else could see.
The entrance stood quiet. Two guards bowed low. "Junshang!"
"Seal the gates." He entered.
Inside, a few maids and eunuchs waited to serve him. He waved them away before they could even bow. "Zhen will manage alone."
Without waiting for acknowledgment, he turned and entered his chambers. With a flick of his soaked sleeve, the sliding doors slid shut behind him.
Even the sound of Zhu's weeping faded into silence.
The room was dim, shadows swallowing the corners. The Emperor disliked bright light at night. It seemed Eunuch Zhu had already prepared everything in advance.
Mingxuan exhaled quietly, stepped toward the bed, and began to undress.
He loosened the black and golden outer robe and let it fall aside. The golden inner robe beneath was still damp with mist. One by one, he peeled away the layers, until only the white inner garments remained.
The cloth stuck tightly to his chest. It had been hours since the stab. Blood and flesh had dried into the silk. He tore it away without flinching.
The wound reopened.
Fresh, black-tinged blood slid down the ridges of his bare chest and abdomen, staining the folds of his white trousers.
His body was tall and well built, refined by years of cultivation. But now it bore a raw, bloody mark.
Mingxuan sat at the edge of the bed.
"Zhen needs rest," he said quietly. "So you should leave."
For a long time, there was no movement in the room.
Then, from the shadows, a figure stepped forth to the soft lamplight.
Half his face was veiled in shadows, but no darkness could hide his beauty or the sorrow etched across it. His lips trembled faintly. His red eyes locked onto the Emperor.
They stared at each other in silence. One standing, the other seated. Neither looking away.
Mingxuan's gaze was sharp, like unsheathed daggers, dazzling and cold.
After a while, Xiangge's gaze dropped. He couldn't stand those eyes anymore. He looked away, pursing his lips.
Mingxuan didn't move. "Zhen thought you would never step into this chamber again," he said quite meaningfully. "Zhen truly misjudged."
***
Glossary
• Fourth watch: 3-5 AM.
• Feilong Palace (飞龙宫): Soaring Dragon Palace, the official residence of Mingxuan.