After coming out from the Yan family mansion, he made his way to the imperial palace. The stone path felt cold under Zhen Yu's feet as he walked alone to the outskirts of the imperial gardens, far from the bustling court life. His memories often drew him here, to places where silence reigned, as if the shadows could ease the scars of his past. But they never could.
When he was born, he had cost his mother her life. From his first breath, he had been marked by loss. The late emperor, his father, had cared little for him, leaving him outside the palace walls, attended only by a nanny with a cruelty no one imagined.
This memory flared in his mind: the woman's calloused hand gripping his wrist when he was just a boy, her nails digging painfully into his skin as she ordered him to obey her every command. "If you disobey," she whispered venomously, "you will not eat for days." And when he resisted her unwanted touch, the punishment was swift and severe—days spent hungry and aching.
The late emperor had scarcely acknowledged his existence, caring even less that his son was enduring such torment. It was his older stepbrother, the current emperor, who became his only shelter. Zhen remembered clinging to his brother's back as a child, safe from his tormentor. His brother would ruffle his hair, offering small comfort as Zhen found a taste of family he had never known.
Zhen's voice broke the silence as he murmured, almost to himself, "It was you, my brother, who saved me... gave me a home."
Then came the day his brother, now emperor, had pulled him back into the palace, away from the dark corners of neglect and pain. Zhen was placed under his brother's protection, where he finally felt warmth, love, and loyalty. He stayed by his brother's side, learning what family truly meant, even as he kept his own desires carefully guarded.
As time passed, Zhen began to pull away from court affairs, not wishing to stir jealousy or insecurity in his brother. Though the emperor offered him the power, he declined it, playing the role of the sickly prince to divert suspicion. Only his brother and the empress knew of his feigned illness—a ruse to keep prying eyes away and the empire's enemies complacent.
But love crept into his guarded heart the day he met Yanli.
He'd first seen her at her one-month celebration, a mere baby. Her tiny, pudgy hand gripped his thumb, and her wide eyes stared up at him with an innocence that left him almost breathless. "You silly little thing," he muttered then, attempting to pull his hand away. But Yanli had wailed until he stayed with her, his hand caught in her soft, unyielding grip until she drifted to sleep.
Over the years, he watched her grow. Her lively spirit and laughter lit up even the darkest corners of the palace. He tried to push away the affection he felt when he noticed it growing into something deeper. A prince loving a mere child, he had chided himself harshly. He was no longer a boy, and she was not yet a woman. He cursed his heart for betraying him.
Yet the heart, as he learned, cared little for rationality. He'd loved her for years, always from afar.
One evening, Zhen sat in his study, his mind a chaotic storm of memories. An attendant entered quietly, bowing. "Your Highness, a message from the emperor." Zhen accepted the scroll and read his brother's familiar handwriting.
"You are now bestowed the title of King. Your palace shall be called the Qingxiu Pavilion, a place where peace and purity dwell, reflecting the strength you have given to our family."
Zhen's eyes lingered over the words. Qingxiu Pavilion—a name meant to reflect serenity. His lips curled in a rueful smile. Peace was a luxury he had never known.
Later that night, as he entered the freshly adorned Qingxiu Pavilion, his thoughts drifted to Yanli. She was no longer a child; she had blossomed into a young woman. But her heart was captured by his nephew, Hanyu. He had once seen her gaze lingering on Hanyu, admiration softening her expression. The sight had left him aching. How could I have let myself fall this deeply?
As he thought of her, the hollow ache of unrequited love clawed at him, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Why do you look at him and not at me, Yanli?"
He had wanted nothing more than to ask his brother to break her engagement with Hanyu, but he knew it would create unrest. Instead, he poured himself into building quiet influence, strengthening his power for the day he might need to protect her—even if he could never hold her as his own.
Then, recently, he noticed her glances at Hanyu had become colder, more distant. Though he didn't understand her sudden change of heart, he couldn't deny the hope stirring within him.
"She is slipping away from him," he thought with a fierce satisfaction. "I won't let her go again."
One evening, as Zhen was pacing the quiet halls of the Qingxiu Pavilion, a shadowy figure emerged. His brother, the emperor, had come, carrying a faint smile.
"Brother," the emperor greeted him warmly, clasping Zhen's shoulder. "You have a new beginning here at Qingxiu. But you look like a man haunted."
Zhen managed a smile. "Ghosts are hard to banish, even in a pavilion named for peace."
The emperor nodded knowingly. "Sometimes the past clings. But you are here now, where you belong. We are family."
The warmth in his brother's voice soothed the old scars, yet one pain remained.
"Brother…" Zhen hesitated, glancing away. "If you saw something precious… something out of reach… would you take it?"
The emperor's gaze sharpened. "Some things are worth the risk. But only if you can bear the consequences." He held Zhen's gaze. "What ever you want to do brother... be careful ".
The words lingered, a hint of warning and encouragement wrapped together. Zhen felt a new resolve build within him. I cannot lose her. This time, he would not let fate rob him of what his heart yearned for.
In the moonlit corridors of Qingxiu Pavilion, Zhen looked out over the gardens, his mind racing with schemes and plans. No longer would he stand in the shadows, watching her with unspoken love. He would bring Yanli to him, using whatever means necessary. And if it came to risking all he had?
So be it.