Chapter 3

The incense burning in the hall swirled around him, and Murong Yue's cheeks flushed. Hearing Lu Xuejin's concern for him, a few emotions suddenly welled up in his heart.

"When I left the courtyard, I saw that the plum blossoms were in full bloom, so I picked a few branches. It's just a minor injury... nothing serious."

Perhaps he was too close to the other person, close enough to see the crane pattern on his collar. The young man in front of him nodded slightly, touching the wound on the back of his hand. His brown eyes were gentle and peaceful, and when he cared for him, he was like a god. A drop of silent water was poured into the surface of a lake, and the surroundings became quiet. Only the sound of his heartbeat could be heard.

When was the last time someone cared about him this much?

It was when his mother was still alive. The rebels attacked the city, and his mother, heartbroken, passed away. He was left alone in this vast, desolate palace, utterly alone and without family… After less than a month as crown prince, he became a palace prisoner. He witnessed the rise of towering buildings and the collapse of palace walls; he experienced profound life-altering events, his heart already clouded with gloom and violence, filled with hatred for everything in the world… Why, then, does touching the person before him bring him peace?

Is it because the two of them are destined to be together?

Thinking of this, Murong Yue recalled the gossip from the palace servants a few days ago. Although he was having a hard time, he didn't mistreat himself. Anyone who mistreated or abused him would definitely retaliate. The palace servants said he had an extreme personality and that he looked fierce... Gradually, they all became unwilling to approach him.

He instinctively reached out to touch his face, worried that he looked menacing. He had never been so close to anyone before, and his ears felt burning.

“I thank Your Highness here. My palace is empty, so it would be perfect to place a few plum blossoms there. As for Your Highness’s injury… even if it’s a minor one, in the cold winter, if you’re not careful, it might develop into frostbite later,” Lu Xuejin said.

"Your Highness, please finish applying the medicine here before you leave. How about that?"

The young man's voice was calm and gentle, like the clear, melodious sound of a bird spreading its wings in the snow, capable of dispelling the deep gloom in one's heart.

It had been a long time since anyone had called him "Your Highness." Ninth Prince. Ninth Prince. His people in the capital called him that every day, but he wondered if they still remembered him. His fingers unconsciously tightened, and he responded softly, "Okay."

The cold ointment clung to his skin. He looked down at his hands. In his youth, his mother preferred to stay away from the capital and refused to go to Shengjing with his father, only staying there for a few years. His childhood was carefree, his hands used to hold a sword and write. Now he did all the servants' work himself, unknowingly accumulating many small wounds.

I never paid attention to it before... but now that the young man is watching me, I'm inexplicably starting to care.

"Don't worry, do you remember what the doctor said? Your knee is still injured, so you should rest well and take good care of yourself." Seeing him looking down in a daze, the young man's gentle voice came, and he placed his palm on his forehead.

A soft touch came from his forehead. The person's fingers were long and slender, with clearly defined knuckles, yet they felt so soft to the touch. The sudden touch made his body stiffen instantly; his body seemed to surrender as if it were disobeying his will.

He met the young man's eyes, which were clear and deep like a still pool, with brown pupils that were as dark as heavy relics, unwavering and dazzling.

The young man's palm was warm and comfortable, and when it landed on his forehead, it made him unconsciously become docile, as if he were enamored with the warmth and wanted to stay a little longer.

Seeing the boy's downcast expression, Lu Xuejin was reminded of his own youth and felt a pang of nostalgia. He didn't know how to comfort him, but remembering how Ziyan had treated her younger brother, he did just that.

His movements seemed to startle Murong Yue, whose body stiffened and whose face became gloomy and hesitant. After a while, he relaxed as if he had breathed a sigh of relief and obediently pressed his head against his palm, which he couldn't help but find amusing.

“Ninth Prince…we met at a palace banquet many years ago, do you remember me?” Lu Xuejin said thoughtfully, “At that time, your mother…that was Consort Li, was returning to the capital. The late Emperor held a palace banquet for Consort Li, and I went that day and saw you. You were about seven or eight years old…I was fifteen that year. Ninth Prince, you were clinging to Consort Li, wanting to eat dumplings, and you even cried because the late Emperor wouldn’t give them to you, pulling on Consort Li’s sleeve.”

At this point, Lu Xuejin vaguely remembered. He and Xue Yi had heard the crying and seen a young, tearful face. They were at that rebellious age and just watched with interest. Xue Yi even deliberately took a dumpling, waved it in front of Murong Yue a couple of times, and then left. The child's crying was so loud that everyone at the palace banquet could hear it, drowning out the musicians' playing.

He said it in the hopes of making Murong Yue happier.

“Young Master, you may be mistaken. I never cry in front of others,” Murong Yue said.

Something struck a nerve with the boy, whose cold face flushed red, then turned pale, then red again. He turned his sharp eyes to the side and stared intently at him, saying, "Young master must be mistaken. I didn't like eating dumplings when I was little either."

Lu Xuejin glanced at him slightly. This was the first time he had ever thought of teasing someone. His expression remained unchanged as he nodded and said, "Perhaps I remembered it wrong."

The boy's fangs occasionally peeked out, giving him a fierce yet somewhat endearing look. He wanted to touch them, wondering what they would feel like. The last time he hugged the boy, his fingertips brushed against his hair, soft as silk, completely different from his face. Teeth weren't hair; they were hard, so they wouldn't be any different… though, they were quite sharp. He'd bitten him, and the wound on his ear hadn't healed yet.

"..." While he was thinking, he bandaged Murong Yue's hands tightly, making them look like two swollen steamed buns.

Murong Yue asked him, "Will I be able to come here again in the future?"

Lu Xuejin then came to her senses and chuckled, "Of course, Your Highness is always welcome."

With that smile, all Murong Yue could see was the face of the person before him. When the young man wasn't smiling, he was aloof and unfathomable, as cold as the snow in a cup by the window; but his smile dispelled that aloofness, revealing a radiant clarity and beauty beyond compare. The other's snow-white profile flashed by, revealing a patch of teeth marks on his smooth, white earlobe. The teeth marks had already scabbed over.

An emotion flashed through his mind, so fast that he didn't catch it.

Murong Yue left Fangze Palace. He stared at his steamed bun-shaped hand. Outside the palace, it was a world of ice and snow, and the sudden chill made his knees ache. The pleasant scent outside was gone. He lowered his head and sniffed it gently; some residue remained on the gauze.

Realizing what he was doing, he immediately froze. He then put down his steamed bun, realizing they were not far from the Cold Palace.

After the wisteria arrived, he was less resistant to this place. Just as he reached the palace, he paused. The snow on the eaves was so thick it covered the roof tiles, which couldn't support the falling eaves. Snowflakes rained down, and the owner of the black boots, not far away, turned around.

"...You're back?" A male voice came, and the courtyard was filled with a low pressure. Xue Yi turned his head when he heard the noise. His slender eyes were slightly curved, and the small mole under his eye was like an ink spot in the snow.

Murong Yue stood still. The tile fell half an inch away from him, without hurting him, but a layer of snow fell on the side of his clothes.

A great fire destroyed the city gate.

“Ninth Brother, if he spares your life, he will surely endure humiliation and hardship… Do not forget your brother’s teachings. Only by enduring the difficulties that fate does not allow can you survive in a deadly situation.”

"My elder sister is incompetent and failed to protect our father, brothers, and sisters. Today her blood splatters before the city gates, and one day it will surely turn into flames of death to burn down the traitorous Xue family!"

"Little Jiu... Little Jiu... Little Jiu."

His spirit, that of the Murong clan, was hung upside down before the city wall. Blood dripped for three days and three nights, but because he alone was spared, he knelt before the city wall and guarded the corpses of his father and brothers for three days.

The eldest sister was renowned for her heroic deeds during her lifetime. After her death, a moment of silence fell before the city walls. No court officials came to see the body of the former princess, which had been devoured by animals, thus preserving her dignity in the end.

He witnessed it firsthand, as if he were in hell, watching vultures, crows, and wild dogs come to share the food, pecking at his sister's face, until the remaining scraps were covered by the snow.

The image lingered in his mind: Xue Yi standing before him, and he had already decided how to deal with him. This scoundrel was unpredictable; he wondered what it would be like to be devoured by vultures.

He felt his own blood and bones gradually warming up, and the image of that scene filled him with an overwhelming, ferocious desire. A mad rage almost leaped from his eyes, a madness that yearned to torture the person before him to death and then drink their blood.

Murong Yue glanced sideways, the snow on his shoulder obscuring the crane pattern on his cloak. His emotions were completely suppressed, as if they didn't exist.

His handsome, aloof face softened, and he bowed respectfully to Xue Yi.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

"I only remembered today when I passed by this place that I hadn't sealed off your palace," Xue Yi said, turning his eyes to him. "I heard that you fainted in front of the palace the day before yesterday... but you were just kneeling, kneeling for a few hours, wasn't it?"

The guard beside him replied, "Your Majesty, it has been exactly four hours."

“Thank you for your understanding, Your Majesty. Yesterday, in the snow... I spent four hours reflecting on how to write well, where to break the stroke, and where to conceal the sharpness. Thanks to Your Majesty's guidance, I have now gained enlightenment,” Murong Yue said, his tone revealing no trace of resentment.

It was as if the events of the previous day had been easily forgotten.

"Avoid the sharp edge and conceal the brilliance?" Xue Yi uttered these four words softly, as if asking a question, or as if casually reciting them.

"Yes. I am deeply grateful for His Majesty's grace in allowing me to survive. If I were sharp and unsightly, I might incur His Majesty's displeasure, disregarding His Majesty's leniency," Murong Yue said.

When he looked up, his eyes were clear and bright, and he remembered how rats survived in the gutter, so he was able to imitate their foolish behavior.

"..." Xue Yi narrowed his eyes slightly, stared at the crane cloak on his shoulder for a moment, and said, "Now that you are still a prince in the palace, I am also thinking about how we should deal with each other."

According to seniority, Xue Yi was his cousin. Xue Yi came from the Xie Prince's Mansion. The Xie Prince had made great military achievements and was specially granted the title of Prince by the late Emperor. Later, the Xie Prince and his wife passed away early, and Xue Yi was taken in by Prime Minister Lu.

"I cannot grant you the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun, yet I cannot bear to see your remains vanish without a trace. What should I do?" Xue Yi sighed, feigning distress.

The air fell silent. Later, Shi Jingtang of the Later Tang Dynasty ceded the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun and recognized the Khitan emperor as his father. What was Xue Yi's intention in bringing up this historical anecdote?

Murong Yue immediately understood the meaning, and a sinister glint flashed across his brow. He recalled his father and brother's dying words and silently recited them several times in his heart.

Each word was like a knife, repeatedly etched into his heart.

Only by enduring the difficulties that fate forbids can one survive a seemingly hopeless situation.

Snowflakes scattered on his robes, and silent humiliation pressed down on his back, causing him to bend over with the slightest fold.

He knelt on one knee, his inner rage transforming into a smile before him, his lips curving upwards as if he had received a tremendous reward.

"...Your subject greets Your Majesty. Your Majesty's grace of pardoning me will be unforgettable for the rest of my life. I will certainly heed Your Majesty's words in the future and live up to Your Majesty's great grace."

"Get up," Xue Yi said with a smile, but then stopped as he thought of something before leaving.

"These clothes don't fit you... I'll have someone send you new ones tomorrow."

A note from the author: