Shushin addressed Minghao quietly before departing the room, her voice filled with a hint of resignation. "Little one," she began, her words tinged with a touch of somber wisdom, "Someone once told me that in order to truly grow, we must let go of the past, but I struggle to do so myself."
She paused; her gaze locked with his. "I'm telling you this, as someone who understands your pain - you can do better than me. Don't pursue revenge. That story, that love, it wasn't yours - it was theirs, their destiny. Ours is different."
As she spoke these words, there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes, a message hidden beneath her words, meant solely for his ears. She didn't need to say more; the weight of her message hung heavily between them.
With that final thought, Shushin turned and left, leaving Minghao alone with his thoughts. He sat there, trying to regain his composure as the others waited patiently outside, awaiting his return.
Lingjie broke the silence with a wry smile on his face. "It was him who was stabbed, not the other way around," he chuckled.
Shushin, not bothered by the remark, responded with a nonchalant tone, "Unfortunately, I haven't stabbed anyone in a long time. Would you like to be the first?"
Lingjie, sensing her jest, quickly shook his head in a lighthearted manner, not wanting to become the subject of her potential violence. He gave a polite smile as he backed away from her, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her knife.
As Lingjie retreated, Shushin turned to face Ziyi, her eyes still holding a hint of darkness. "Did you find anything useful?" she asked, her voice maintaining its steady tone.
Ziyi, taking the moment seriously, responded with a firm expression, "Nothing significant."
Ziyi posed the question, her eyes fixed on Shushin, "And you?"
Shushin smiled faintly, her expression tinged with a mix of emotions. "Strange as it may sound... it turns out that we're all connected to the king in one way or another. That's why we've been getting into so much trouble."
As Shushin spoke, a sense of realization washed over the group, but their minds were still processing the implications. Without much hesitation, they set off for the royal palace, oblivious to the events that awaited them.
But upon their arrival, their world shattered.
The palace was engulfed in flames, and the air was filled with the sound of crying and screaming. The surroundings were chaotic and terrifying, and many had already fallen victim to the raging fire. The scene was a stark contrast to the peaceful setting of the morning.
Ziyi could not contain her shock and panic, her words tumbling out in disbelief. "How did this happen? It couldn't have been more than six hours. How did the whole palace catch fire?"
Shushin's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene, assessing the situation with a calculated gaze. Her expression hardened. "I blocked the magic from the beginning. The fire that has engulfed the palace is not the result of a curse or witchcraft, but the work of a human, a deliberate act."
Her words hung heavy in the air, as the realization sank into their minds. The group had been led on a wild goose chase, the fire a distraction to keep them away from the truth. The true mastermind behind the chaos had played them all for fools, wasting precious time.
As the implications of Shushin's words sunk in, it became clear that they had been manipulated from the very beginning. The fire, the chaos, all of it was a carefully planned strategy to keep them occupied and away from the truth. They had been deceived, and the mastermind behind the scheme had expertly played them like pawns on a chessboard.
Mimi emerged from the burning palace, clutching Li Xin and Eugenie, while Nano lent a helping hand. Shushin and the others immediately rushed over to assist them. As Shushin approached Eugene, she couldn't help but smile faintly, her emotions close to the surface.
To her surprise, he embraced her tightly, tears streaming down his face. "I am grateful that you are safe," he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude and relief.
Shushin returned the embrace, her own tears threatening to fall. "I'm glad you're okay, too," she whispered, her voice shaky.
She closed her eyes, holding him tightly, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Despite the fact that he was the one who had been injured, she found herself seeking comfort instead of the other way around. She felt like a failure, ignorant, and stupid. Everywhere she went, it seemed that chaos and ruins followed in her wake.
After a long moment, they slowly released each other, trying to contain their emotions, holding back tears.
Even as the friends were reunited, the atmosphere was heavy with grief. The king had been severely injured. Ziyi and Eugene lost their father, Aunt Mu and her husband lost their lives, and countless soldiers and servants who had guarded the palace also perished in the flames.
As the full extent of the devastation became clear, the mood was one of profound shock and sadness. The palace, once a symbol of power and authority, had become a place of ruin and death. The friends found themselves in the midst of a city that had been plunged into mourning and despair.
The group stood together, each lost in their own thoughts and grief. Shushin's mind was a maelstrom of emotions - guilt, helplessness, and a profound sense of loss. The destruction around her was a painful reminder of her failure to prevent it, a stinging reminder of her own limitations.
She couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, her presence had brought about this sorrow. The weight of responsibility settled heavily upon her shoulders, and the idea that she was the source of misfortune hung over her like a dark cloud...
The kingdom, cloaked in sorrow, was draped in solemn white. Homes were shut tight, the doors sealed like the hearts of those within. Soldiers and citizens alike, victims of the unknown fire, now carried the shrouds of their families, a silent procession of loss. Names were called out, prayers whispered for the deceased, hoping they would find rest. Who among them had not sought one final moment to utter a last farewell?
Who among them had not lost their homes, families, or their own joy? Who had not drowned in their misery? And who among them had not suffered this terrible fate?
Weeks passed, and the capital remained in mourning for the fallen. Important officials perished, and the king himself succumbed to his injuries. Those who remained worked tirelessly, silently, to keep the homeland from unraveling. They toiled to prevent further heartache, to honor the sacrifices of those who gave their last breath.
They worked fervently on rebuilding the palace but took days off in solidarity with the blacksmith, who had lost his loved ones. Yet amidst their efforts, the city appeared desolate, its streets eerily quiet and hearts heavy with pain. Was it because the streets were deserted, or because every soul was shrouded in grief? Or had it always been that way, its emptiness and greyness unnoticed until now, as sorrow cast its pall over the kingdom?
In the silence, the city's colors seemed to have faded to a stark black and white, or perhaps it was a pale grey – a reflection of the somber mood that hung over the land. With each passing day, the sense of loss and regret grew heavier, as if the very air was filled with the whispers of the fallen.
The rebuilding of the city and the palace served as a bittersweet endeavor. While they worked to restore the kingdom's symbol of power and authority, the memories of the lives lost, and homes destroyed lingered in the air.
The sound of hammers and saws replaced the laughter and chatter that once filled the streets. Instead of the hustle and bustle of lively markets, there was now an oppressive silence that spoke of mourning.
In the absence of the joyous noise of life, the workers went about their tasks in silence, their shoulders weighed down by the unbearable grief of loss. The air, once filled with the perfume of the city, now carried only the acrid scent of smoke, a constant reminder of the fire's destructive power.
The palace was slowly taking shape, its walls and towers rising from the ground like a ghost from the ashes. But the halls still echoed with the ghost of the fallen, their presences etched into every nook and cranny.
Every stone, every tile, served as a reminder of the lives that had been lost, a silent tribute to the sacrifices made in defense of the kingdom. The city, once so alive with color and life, now seemed to have lost its vibrancy, as if the fire had sucked out the very essence of its being, leaving only a muted, shadowy version of what it once was.
The survivors, still carrying the weight of their grief, watched as the palace rose again from the ashes, a monumental symbol of resilience. Yet, with each passing day, they couldn't help but feel a deep, almost painful nostalgia for the laughter, the markets' hustle and bustle, and the perfume of the kingdom.
It was as if the city had died that tragic day, leaving only a faint imprint of its former glory to be rebuilt anew. The workers continued their labors, building a city on the tombs of the dead, but the memory of the lost ones loomed over them like a dark cloud...
It was as if the city had died that tragic day, leaving only a faint imprint of its former glory to be rebuilt anew. The workers continued their labors, building a city on the tombs of the dead, but the memory of the lost ones loomed over them like a dark cloud.
And amidst it all, the ghosts of the fallen whispered, their voices carried on the wind like a melancholic dirge. It was as if the fire had not only destroyed the city, but had also taken a piece of its soul, leaving behind an emptiness that no amount of rebuilding could fill.
The city, once the heart, blood, and soul of the kingdom, now resembled nothing more than a pale reflection of its former glory. Its vibrancy was now like a distant dream, slowly fading with each passing day. The kingdom mourned, and the city remained hushed, as if the very air were holding its breath in respect for the souls who had departed.
And so, the people of the city found themselves caught in a bizarre limbo, between the pain of their loss and the slow, steady effort of rebuilding. They labored, as if in a dream, their hands continuing to work while their hearts remained shattered.
In the midst of the somber atmosphere, a sudden disturbance caught the people's attention as an entourage of soldiers, all garbed in black and bearing swords, passed through the city on their way to the palace. Speculation swirled as to the reason for their presence, but one thought crept into the minds of many: Perhaps an occupation would be easier on the battered hearts of the people than this constant, uneasy waiting.
papers were quickly disseminated, and festive decorations adorned the city square. A grand banner was placed at the gateway to the capital, proclaiming "Orchid," a name known to be close to Shushin's heart. Drums resounded, dancers swirled, and singing filled the air, a stark contrast to the mournful tears of just days before.
Everyone had gathered at Shushin's residence that day, and as she stepped outside, she found an invitation to a ceremony for the appointment of the new king resting before her door. Clutching the document, she reentered the house, tossing it onto the table before her comrades.
"This is madness," Shushin declared, her annoyance evident. "One lunatic dead and countless more lost, but already preparing for the ascension of a new king? What calamity has befallen us to warrant such haste?"
Jian Guo, with a defeated look, confessed, "I feel responsible. I am a disappointing prince."
Shushin shot him an irked glance.
Minghao, placing a supportive hand on Jian Guo's shoulder, interjected, "We cannot predict the future. It's not our fault. We should focus on capturing the culprit instead of blaming ourselves."
Shushin's face softened into a faint smile, her annoyance replaced by a touch of warmth, "You have indeed grown wiser. You're older than me, after all; maturity should be a given."
Jian Guo said, "I noticed that the king changed the name of the country to 'Orchid'. It's Shushin's favorite flower, isn't it? Is it popular or does Shushin simply have good taste?"
Shushin's irritation returned, and she responded with a forced smile, "Yes, perhaps we share similar tastes. Regardless, I must go. Ziyi's father passed away, and she looks so sad and exhausted. My heart aches just thinking about her."
"I'll go with you", Lingjie said as he stood up
While Shushin was going to the door, she put her hands on his shoulder for him to sit: "You can't say anything to her, right? It's useless, I'll go and try to talk to her, sit here as you wish, we'll meet at this king's ceremony."
…..
As Shushin entered Ziyi's home, she found her sitting in the designated room for honoring the dead, her parents' graves laid out before her. With a gentle touch, Shushin placed a single white orchid bloom beside her parents' resting place before seating herself beside Ziyi.
Ziyi's voice quivered with anguish as she spoke, "I tried so hard for my father's affection, his praise, but all his attention seemed fixated on Churan. Even my mother showed preference for her over me. And now, my father is gone forever, leaving me all alone."
Shushin nodded, her understanding apparent on her face, and responded gently, "You gave your all to earn your father's love and praise. But in the process, you forgot about yourself, didn't you? I still can't wrap my head around why we constantly burn ourselves for people who don't comprehend the concept of love. Deep down, your father does care for you. He does. His pride just clouds his judgment and causes you pain."
Ziyi looked at Shushin, her eyes weary and filled with sadness. "I know that he loves me, but his pride…it's a wall between us, one that I've struggled to break through for so long. I just want his love. Is that too much to ask for?"
Shushin reached out and gently took Ziyi's hand in hers. "No, it's not too much to ask for. You deserve your father's love, just as you are. But sometimes, we need to understand that people's pride can blind them to what is truly important. It's not your fault that your father fails to see your worth fully."
Ziyi's emotions overflowed like a dam bursting, and her voice shook as she collapsed into tears. "I… I want to comprehend the essence of love," she managed to speak through her sobs. "I don't want to have children and abandon them, only to cause them pain. Why? Why did my mother give birth to me if she was just going to leave and neglect me?"
Shushin listened quietly, her heart aching for her friend's pain. "It's true, why do people come into our lives, make us love them, and then leave with such cruelty? "..
"Do you know?" Shushin continued, her words filled with sadness. "There's a saying that when the most cherished thing in someone's life is destroyed, that person is completely erased from our memory. But have I noticed, when we burn their things, they never truly disappear from our memories. Is it because the most precious thing in their lives was people, not material possessions?"
As Ziyi attempted to compose herself, her voice trembled as she spoke again. "Have you ever tried to forget?" she asked.
"Why don't you try for yourself?"
Ziyi removed her hairpin from its place, allowing her hair to fall freely around her like a waterfall. She approached the burning flames placed near her parents' graves and threw her hairpin into the flames, watching it disappear before returning and reclaiming her seat. Shushin's gaze never left her, her eyes filled with a mix of worry and understanding.
Shushin's voice broke the silence, her question filled with sadness. "So, did you forget?"
Looking up through tear-filled eyes, Ziyi responded with a small smile and a nod. "No… I don't think I did," she whispered softly.
Shushin leaned closer, studying Ziyi's tear-streaked face. "Perhaps they were right, then," she said thoughtfully. "I think the most valuable thing to him wasn't possessions… it was people. That's why he never truly left your memory."
As these words sank in, Ziyi could no longer contain her emotions. She laid her head against the ground, her body wracked with powerful sobs. Without hesitation, Shushin moved closer and enveloped her friend in a tight embrace, holding her as she cried.
The room filled with the sounds of Ziyi's sobs and Shushin's whispered comfort, while out in the hallway, Eugene fought to contain his own heartache. He pressed his hands to his mouth, desperately trying to stay quiet, tears streaming down his face.
The heartbreaking scene continued – Ziyi's uncontrollable sobs, Shushin's soft reassurances, and Eugene's silent anguish, each struggling with their own emotions in their different ways.