The Emperor paused, his lip twitching. He closed his eyes fora brief second, taking a breath…and seemed to calm down slightly, the manic mirth releasing a bit from his expression.
Everyone else let out a breath of relief upon seeing the snaking, sharp blood red tendrils surrounding the Emperor fade. Only Abrial's eyes widened to the size of silver coins, her lip trembling uncharacteristically. Finley's small face—which was Klara's face—remained impassive, but a flicker of recognition flashed through her eyes as well.
Cheng-ge.
That was what White Mask had called the Emperor.
Cheng-ge.
Ah Cheng, Ah Cheng.
Shao Cheng.
Shao Cheng, rolling in the dirt, covered in blood and bruises while stones hailed down on him.
Shao Cheng, stealing into Shin Minyeo's garden to fill his shirt with fruits for his mother.
Shao Cheng, screaming in rage between the graves of his parents, cursing the world.
Cheng-ge, Ah Cheng, Shao Cheng.
