RUAN YANJUN
The morning sun had climbed high yet Luo Fan was still asleep. I let myself into his room without knocking. Privacy was a luxury he didn't deserve after his repeated defiance.
There he lay, his face pale and his breaths faint. He was ill again.
I moved closer, observing the faint rise and fall of his chest. On the table beside his bed, the bottle of elixir I'd given him remained untouched. I picked it up, the weight of the small container like a quiet confirmation of what I already suspected.
He hadn't taken it.
I glanced around the room and noticed another bottle tucked behind some books—the elixir of Pale Revenant I had given him weeks ago. It, too, was sealed and unused.
Of course. Stubborn to the end.
I sighed, though it was less an expression of disappointment and more one of calculation. I had given him chances. Too many, perhaps. Each time, I thought he'd finally see reason, yet he clung to his righteous path like a drowning man to driftwood.
He was only sinking himself further.
This time, his refusal cemented my decision. If he wouldn't take the easier road I offered him, then he'd have to learn the hard way.
I sat beside his bed, my gaze lingering on his face. Despite my irritation, his beauty still softened my anger. Even now, unwell and fragile, he had a grace that drew the eye. His lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed.
If only I had more time. If only the world wasn't constantly on the brink of falling apart. I might have had the patience to keep indulging his stubbornness a little longer.
But time was a luxury I didn't have.
Whether I chose to push forward with my plan or not, I would soon have to leave him. The matters waiting for me weren't trivial. They concerned the existence of this world and my own survival.
*****
LUO FAN
It was noon when Ruan Yanjun woke me. His voice was soft, his touch even softer as he lightly shook me awake. I blinked up at him, groggy and disoriented, only to be greeted by an unfamiliar sight.
He was smiling. Not the sly, teasing smirk he usually wore, but a genuine, tender smile that sent a shiver down my spine.
Something was wrong.
Before I could say anything, he placed a tray of food on the table beside me. "You should eat," he said warmly, his voice lacking its usual edge.
I stared at him, suspicion bubbling up within me. This wasn't like him. Ruan Yanjun was cunning, domineering, and impossible to predict, but tender? Kind? This felt like a mask he'd hastily thrown on, and the dissonance was unnerving.
Still, I decided to push my doubts aside. Perhaps this was his attempt to reconcile after our recent tensions. Maybe he, too, wanted to mend the fractured bond between us.
But his behavior was so out of character it made my skin crawl. I'd almost prefer his mockery or sharp reprimands to this unsettling display of warmth. At least those felt real.
After I finished the meal, he surprised me again. "Let's take a stroll," he said, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world.
I hesitated. While I wanted to accept, the lingering weakness in my body made even standing a challenge.
He seemed to anticipate my response. With a flick of his fingers, a surge of his energy coursed through me, soothing the pain and restoring enough strength for me to move with ease. "There," he said with a faint smile. "No excuses now."
So we went.
The shopping lane teemed with activity. Vendors shouted to promote their goods, children's laughter rang out as they weaved through the crowd, and the air was filled with the aromas of freshly baked pastries and fragrant herbal incense. Ruan Yanjun strode beside me, his presence commanding yet surprisingly unassuming.
We bought a few small trinkets and souvenirs, though it was clear he had little interest in such things. When I lingered too long at a stall, admiring a set of intricately carved figurines, he merely sighed and handed over the payment before I could protest.
I didn't know what to make of him.
By the time evening fell, I was exhausted, but Ruan Yanjun didn't let the night end there. He led me to a private dining room he had reserved, its dim lighting casting a warm, intimate glow over the space. He ordered wine—an indulgence he rarely allowed himself—and poured me a glass before raising his own.
As we drank, the conversation drifted, and soon we were discussing the book he had been reading last night.
"The evil of politics," he began, swirling his wine as if it held the answers to the world's questions. "Take Han Bao, for example. The monk was once revered for his righteousness, for his dedication to helping the poor. But the moment his title of Divine Mage was stolen, his ambition led him down a darker path. He created the White Vulture, killed a crown prince, and for a brief moment, regained his title. And yet, it all unraveled. A confession, a scandal, and his name was disgraced once more."
I frowned. "Doesn't that prove that evil will never prevail?"
Ruan Yanjun smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "His failure wasn't because evil cannot prevail, but because he was incompetent. Had he kept his mouth shut and concealed his crimes, no one would have had the evidence to bring him down."
I shook my head, disapproving. "Even if he succeeded, I'd never want to achieve anything that way. Honesty and integrity matter more than victory."
He leaned back, resting his arm on the edge of his chair as his smirk deepened. "And that, A-Fan, is why you're lying at death's door, stripped of your former glory, while men like Emperor Sun reign supreme."
I stiffened. He had never been one to hold back, but his words cut deeper than usual tonight.
"Your uncle," he continued, swirling his wine lazily, "committed fratricide to steal the throne. Wicked, undeniably. But unlike Han Bao, he has no conscience and has never confessed to his crimes. Yet for more than twenty years, he has ruled unchallenged. Few emperors have managed to sustain their reign for that long. And why? Because, despite the evil that brought him to power, his abilities are undeniable. His intelligence and benevolence toward his people rivaled that of your father. That's why he's respected and adored across the five empires. Would you call that an entirely evil outcome?"
I couldn't argue. Emperor Sun had taken the barren Kan Empire and turned it into a thriving land of prosperity. I had grown up under his reign, witnessing the stability and growth he brought to a territory others had written off as inhospitable. The vast deserts and jagged mountains that made up much of Kan's land had been transformed under his rule. Even as a child, I never saw the rampant hunger or displacement that plagued other kingdoms' borders, like those I'd recently seen between Wun and Silang.
I stared into my glass, his words weighing heavily on me. "Even if some good came of it," I murmured, "it doesn't justify his crimes."
"Perhaps not," he replied smoothly, "but history rarely remembers morality. It remembers results."
Ruan Yanjun's point was clear. Good outcomes could emerge from evil deeds. But no matter how logical his argument, it didn't sit right with me. I couldn't imagine being content if I achieved my goals through wicked means, no matter how noble my intentions. I didn't believe happiness born of such actions could last.
Just like Emperor Sun. I was certain that, even now, the brother he had murdered still haunted his dreams.
"You're still not convinced, are you?" he asked, noticing my silence.
"I am," I replied. "I understand your point."
"But you'd still never do such a thing."
I lowered my head, unwilling to answer directly.
He sighed deeply, as though dealing with a particularly stubborn child. "Just as I thought. Nothing I say will ever sway my A-Fan's principles. He will always remain steadfast on the righteous path no matter how many people betray him, even if his own wife betrayed him for a pouch of gold."
My chest tightened at his words, the familiar ache of that betrayal flaring to life. I hated when he brought it up, but I couldn't deny the truth of it.
"You wouldn't even mind if I betrayed you, would you?" he asked, his tone deceptively light.