Chapter 8: memories
Finally succumbing to the searing pain, Wei Zhi's vision blurred, and his body went limp. He fainted, the memory of the silver-haired man lingering like a faint glow in the dark corners of his mind. As he drifted into unconsciousness, another memory surfaced a memory from when he was younger, a time when the palace was still unfamiliar and his innocence had not yet been shattered.
He was only three years old then, barely able to form full sentences. He remembered sitting in the grand hall with all the royal family members, the place gleaming with the richness of the empire. The hall was a masterpiece of opulence jewels adorned the high walls, reflecting the warm light of gold and crystal chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceilings. Every surface glimmered, from the embroidered silk draperies that cascaded down the windows to the finely polished marble floors. Massive tables were laid with the finest porcelain, and the scent of roasted meats and exotic spices filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of incense.
He had been seated beside his mother, the Empress Wei Yù, who had looked stunning as always, though even then there had been a frailty about her. She sat tall, draped in luxurious robes of deep red and gold, her neck and wrists adorned with the finest pearls and jade. Yet, beneath her regal appearance, there was a growing shadow, a subtle tension that the young Wei Zhi hadn't fully understood at the time.
The meal had gone on peacefully until Concubine Zhuāng Qīng made a remark her voice sweet yet dripping with malice. "Your Majesty," she had said, her lips curling into a sly smile, "you've been looking quite weak lately. Perhaps it's the toll of losing your golden core after childbirth? Such a tragic thing…"
The room fell silent. Everyone froze, knowing the weight of those words. Concubine Zhuāng Qīng's face showed no fear, only a mock pity as she glanced over at Wei Zhi, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed disdain. The young boy didn't fully understand the insult, but he felt the tension in his mother's grip tighten.
A sudden crash echoed through the hall as the Empress hurled a glass cup across the table. It struck Concubine Zhuāng Qīng directly on the head. The room gasped as the cup shattered on impact, and blood trickled down the concubine's temple. She let out a soft cry before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.
Wei Zhi had been frozen in his seat, his heart racing. The grand hall, once dazzling and serene, now felt like a cage a place where danger lurked behind every polished smile, every gentle word. The eyes of the courtiers flicked nervously between the Empress and the fallen concubine, whispers spreading like wildfire through the crowd.
The Emperor, Wei Shū, had stood abruptly, his face cold and expressionless, before storming out of the hall without a word.
But that night, the real nightmare began.
When they returned to their private palace quarters, Wei Zhi had barely managed to speak a word before his mother turned on him. Her eyes were wild, filled with unbridled fury, and as she stood over him, her hand struck him hard across the face.
"You!" she had screamed, her voice hoarse with anger. "You ruined me! Because of you, I am weak! I lost my golden core because of you!"
Another slap followed, harder this time. Wei Zhi, only three years old, stumbled back, unable to make sense of the words being hurled at him. He wanted to cry, to beg her to stop, but fear choked him. His tiny body trembled, his hands clinging to the fabric of his small robe, his eyes wide and pleading.
"Do you know what you've cost me?" she continued, her voice breaking as she grabbed his shoulders, shaking him violently. "You're worthless! A failure! You should never have been born!"
The young Wei Zhi could barely speak. His lips quivered, and his eyes brimmed with tears, but no sound came out. All he could do was stand there, helpless, as his mother's rage consumed her. She slapped him again, her nails digging into his skin, leaving deep red marks.
That night had been burned into his memory, the pain of those moments seared into his very soul. Even as a child, he had realized something then that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be enough for her. He was nothing more than a reminder of her weakness, the cause of her suffering.
In the present, even unconscious, Wei Zhi's body trembled at the memory, his mind swirling with the weight of years of torment. I was never enough, he thought bitterly, the echo of his mother's words ringing in his ears, and I never will be.
But as the dream began to fade, the image of the man by the lake returned his calm, silver eyes watching over him with silent understanding. And for just a moment, Wei Zhi felt a faint glimmer of hope, a small whisper that maybe, just maybe, he was more than the scars of his past.
As Wei Zhi slowly opened his eyes again, the world around him felt surreal. He wasn't in his room, nor anywhere he recognized. He was floating, cradled in something soft and fluid water, perhaps but it felt unlike any water he had ever known. He was suspended just above the surface, weightless, as if the liquid itself was holding him up. His body was at ease, and the pain in his back from the whips had vanished, replaced by a profound sense of comfort and tranquility.
Slowly, a presence enveloped him, an awareness that he was not alone.
His head rested in someone's lap. The realization sent a jolt through his mind, and instinctively, he tried to move away. But his body refused to listen, as if a gentle force was anchoring him in place. Cautiously, he glanced up, and there he saw him the man from the lake.
Silver hair cascaded down the figure's shoulders, shimmering softly in the ethereal light that surrounded them. His piercing, grayish-blue eyes were fixed on the distance, calm and serene, as though he were lost in thought. The man looked almost unreal, his porcelain-like skin glowing faintly in the strange illumination.
As Wei Zhi took in the sight, he felt his heart race, yet something about the man's presence stilled his fear. His lips parted to speak, but before the words could form, the man's gaze finally lowered, locking onto his.
"Oh, you're awake?" the man said, his voice low and husky, yet soothing a sound that felt as though it could wash away all of Wei Zhi's troubles, calming the storm inside him. "I didn't expect you to wake up this quickly."
Wei Zhi blinked, his voice fragile as he spoke. "Where… where are we?"
"This is where I stay," the man replied simply, his tone as gentle as a breeze. But before Wei Zhi could ask more questions, the man placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. The touch was light yet firm, sending a shiver down Wei Zhi's spine. The man's fingers were cold, yet not unpleasant it was a refreshing sensation, like relief on a scorching day.
Suddenly, the man began to hum a melody, soft and haunting, drifting through the air like mist. The tune wrapped around Wei Zhi, each note resonating within him, stirring something deep inside. He found it soothing, familiar in a way he couldn't quite place. It was as if the melody had been etched into his very soul, waiting to be recalled.
Then, without a word, the man lifted his hand and placed it gently over Wei Zhi's eyes. The coolness spread, and almost instantly, Wei Zhi felt his eyelids grow heavy. The sensation of water surrounding him, the man's lap beneath him, and the soothing melody all began to fade into a comforting darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, the world had shifted.
He was back in his room. The sunlight filtered through the cracks in the window, casting a warm glow across the floor. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure if what had just happened was real or a dream. He sat up, his muscles stiff, and glanced around. The familiar surroundings of his quarters came into focus, yet his mind lingered on the encounter or was it simply a dream?
The image of the silver-haired man still burned in his thoughts, his calm gaze and that enchanting melody that seemed to echo in his ears. It felt too real to have been just a figment of his imagination, too vivid to simply dismiss.
Wei Zhi touched his forehead, trying to shake the feeling. But no matter how hard he tried, the man's presence remained, lingering in his mind like a melody that refused to fade. There was something significant about that encounter, something deeper than a mere dream he could feel it deep within his bones.