Chapter 7: the punishments
As the training came to an end , it was now time for his punishment. He knew this was coming, each mistake cost him 7 lashes, one for each year of his life.Today, 5 mistakes had been made which ment 35 lashes. There was no escape from it , no argument he could make. He had accepted his fate long ago.
Silently he walked the small wooden stool that awaited him on the corner of the grounds. His samll frame still trembling from the harsh training he had endured he settled on the wooden stool and took off his outer robes exposing his already bruised back . The air felt cold on his skin the calm before the storm .
Behind him the punisher stood there, a whip in hand. Even that man who had hardened by giving out punishments for years hesitated , after all he was just a little boy. He knew how cruel it was to whip a child this young especially when he had already endured so much just moments before. But the empress's orders were absolutely and her warth was far more frightening than the hesitation the man had felt . The man felt as if he had no choice left and finally , with a deep breath he lifted up the whip .
The first lash landed with a sharp crack, splitting the silence like thunder. Wei zhi let out a small muffled and mumbled cry as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip to stop from any other sound escaping his mouth. He would not scream;he had taught himself long ago to endure the pain and not give his mother the satisfaction of his pain.
The second strike followed swiftly, then the third, each one more painful than the last. His back burned as if set on fire, the agony spreading across his skin. He could feel his muscles tightening, trying to brace against the next blow, but nothing could truly prepare him.
By the fourth strike, his skin was already turning an angry red, and purple welts began to rise. The man hesitated again, glancing nervously toward the Empress, who sat watching with cold indifference. I have to spare him what I can, the punisher thought grimly, and with the next strike, he aimed for a different part of the boy's back, trying to spread the blows to prevent the skin from tearing too quickly.
Fifth strike. Seventh strike. Each lash carved deeper into his flesh, but WeiZhi remained silent, his breathing ragged, his small body shaking. And yet, this was only the beginning-he still had so many more to endure. He counted them in his head, focusing on the numbers to distract himself from the pain. Thirty-five... I can handle thirty-five.
The strikes continued, the sound of the whip slashing through the air followed by the sickening impact against his skin. By the twentieth lash, his back was a mosaic of red and purple bruises, some spots already bleeding where the whip had struck too hard.
But he didn't scream. Not once.
When the final strike landed, the world around him seemed to spin. His body felt heavy, his vision blurred by the exhaustion and pain. But it was over. Finally, it was over.
He stayed still for a moment, his body trembling, not daring to move until the punisher stepped away. Slowly, he pulled his robes back over his torn skin, the fabric clinging painfully to the fresh wounds. His fingers trembled, but he clenched them into fists to steady himself. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not here. Not in front of her.
From her seat, the Empress spoke, her voice cold and distant. "I hope this lesson stays with you, Wei Zhi. Perfection is the only thing I will accept."
Without waiting for a response, she stood and turned, leaving the courtyard with her attendants trailing behind her. The punisher, too, left quickly, not daring to linger.
Wei Zhi sat there, his back on fire, his
heart heavy. Perfection, he thought Wei Zhi sat there, his back on fire, his heart heavy. Perfection, he thought bitterly, the word like poison on his tongue. I'll never be perfect in her eyes.
But as he stood, his legs shaking under the weight of his pain, one thought remained clear: I'll survive.
Suddenly, as Wei Zhi sat there in the stillness of his agony, a memory flashed in his mind a man by the lake. He remembered him vividly, the image so clear it was as if the man was standing before him again.
The man had been godly in appearance. Long silver hair flowed down to his hips like cascading moonlight, and his deep, grayish-blue eyes seemed to hold the weight of endless knowledge. His features were sharp, almost divine in their precision, yet there was something soothing about him, a presence that calmed the storm inside. Wei Zhi recalled the strong grip that had pulled him from the lake that day, the warmth of that touch when he had felt cold and lost.
The man's voice echoed in his mind now: "You can achieve great heights. One day, you will protect others, and in doing so, find your own strength."
Those words had given him hope once. For the first time in his life, he had believed there was something more for him, a destiny beyond the torment he faced. He had dared to think he could become someone of value someone strong, someone who could protect the weak.
But now, those words felt like a cruel lie.
How could I protect anyone when I can't even defend myself? he thought bitterly. The sting of the whip still burned on his back, a physical reminder of how powerless he truly was. How could I protect others when I can't even escape my own mother's cruelty?
He clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him. For a moment, he wanted to curse that man by the lake, call him a fraud for filling his mind with false hope. What good were promises of greatness when he was nothing more than a helpless child, trapped in a life he couldn't control?
But even as he blamed the man, he couldn't shake the memory of his presence. There had been something genuine in his gaze, something comforting in his words. No one had ever looked at him like that, with the quiet belief that he was more than his suffering, more than the Empress's scorn. That soothing presence lingered in his heart, like a gentle warmth that refused to be extinguished.
Could it be true? he wondered, his heart aching. Could I really become someone greater?
But as his back throbbed with pain and his body trembled with exhaustion, the weight of reality pressed down on him again, smothering that flicker of hope.