Liu Yunxiao, the forgotten concubine, could barely feel the weight of her own existence. Every morning, she awoke in a world that no longer recognized her, where her name echoed like a distant sigh, a memory that vanished with the wind.
Zhao Xuanyuan, the man who once looked at her with affection, now saw her only as an impure specter. She had been accused of surrendering herself to another man even before their marriage had been consummated. Liu Yunxiao never spoke in defense of these accusations and was ultimately destroyed because of them.
With every bitter word the ministers whispered to the emperor, begging for her removal from the court, a piece of Liu Yunxiao broke off, shattering what little hope she had left. They destroyed everything she loved. And the fallen empress herself felt mad for loving someone who no longer saw her. Yet still, a part of her hoped he would change and trust her. The last petal... the last flame...
She felt the weight of the silence in the walls of the Palace of Tears, the echo of empty footsteps that faded throughout the palace. Where was everyone now? All those who once adored her. In her future, there were only cold glances and sharp words. And the most painful of all: even in this abyss of solitude, a flame still flickered in her chest. It was small, almost invisible, yet it refused to be extinguished.
Many still wondered: would the emperor ever remember her? Or, when he sees her again, will all she find in his eyes be the gaze of a man who has forgotten her, who will never care again?
A hundred years ago, the title of empress was ripped from Liu Yunxiao like a cloak torn by the wind. From sovereign, she was demoted to an insignificant concubine, the target of contempt and mockery. In the palace, she came to be called a harlot by the other concubines, rejected even by the servants who once served her. Yet, despite it all, there was one person who never wavered in loyalty: her son, Lin Ziyu, who, even as a young boy, did everything to protect her from the storm that fell upon her.
However, the pressure from the ministers was relentless. Their voices, increasingly louder and more demanding, weighed heavily on the emperor, who felt his strength waning. Zhao Xuanyuan was forced to take a new wife and crown her as empress. And with this new union came the hardest decision of all: to choose a new heir to the throne. But amidst the turmoil of conspiracies, the emperor still clung to one fragile hope — that the deposed prince could truly be his son.
In place of Lin Ziyu, Wang Lin, the son of the late Prince Zhao Jiancheng, the emperor's younger brother, was named heir. Raised under the strict teachings of the court, Wang Lin, who was named after his deceased mother, Wang Zhilan, grew up shaped to be the sharp blade of the empire.
He was no longer just a substitute heir; he was the declaration of a new era for Yunlan. As for Lin Ziyu, who once carried the name Zhao Mingye honorably as the light of Yunlan, he was forced to renounce his own blood.
The emperor's order had been clear: his surname Zhao would be stripped from him, and in its place, he would receive the name Lin Haotian — the man many believed to be his true father. And, throughout these hundred years, the prince who had been born like thunder, shaking the earth with his first cry, was reduced to a shadow in the cold corridors of the Palace of Tears. But he never mourned for it.
Despite everything, he was still very happy.
In his childhood, Lin Ziyu was always surrounded by the affection and attention of his mother's servants. But the bond he cherished most was with Huang Wuxin, his childhood friend. He was not just a companion in his adventures, but also the only one with whom Lin Ziyu shared his most intimate dreams.
They were children from different worlds, but in their innocence, they didn't understand how difficult it would be to intertwine their realities. Huang Wuxin was the son of Liu Yunxiao's most faithful maid. Still, the difference in status never mattered to them. Their souls were connected in a way neither of them could fully comprehend at that moment. But the world around them was not as generous as their dream seemed to be.
The new empress soon became a dangerous threat.
Liu Yunxiao realized that the empress might try to harm her only friends and allies in that hellish court. So, she made a difficult but necessary decision, sending Huang Wuxin and his mother to an isolated residence in the mountains. It was a simple house, far from the intrigues and politics, but enough for both of them to live in safety, without having to fear the claws of Mei Xuanling.
However, they simply disappeared without a trace, until they were completely forgotten.
Not by the deposed prince. He still waited for Huang Wuxin's return.
The empire was trapped in the hands of a monarch blinded by passion, whose mind and heart were increasingly dominated by his new wife. His desire to control and possess Liu Yunxiao, to keep her close, even if it was only to look at her from afar, had become the force driving his decisions.
Lin Ziyu, on the other hand, did not harbor dreams of grandeur or power. His desire was never for fame, wealth, or influence, as many believed. What he desired above all was to save his mother.
Recently, she had fallen mysteriously and incomprehensibly ill. No doctor or alchemist had been able to diagnose her illness, but everyone knew it was serious. The disease consumed her vitality, destroyed her internal organs little by little, and the life of the once-deposed empress was fading away. Lin Ziyu saw all of this happen, helpless.
He sought help. He begged countless times. He went to Wang Lin, who claimed to be his friend; however, he became distant when he was needed the most. Despite his sweet words and eternal promises of support, Wang Lin didn't offer even a single immortality pill that would have certainly prevented Liu Yunxiao's death. But even the strength of the relationships Lin Ziyu had couldn't help him. And the emperor, who held several of these pills in his hands, proved to be utterly unyielding.
The empire's ministers argued that offering such a treasure to a woman "unworthy," accused of betraying the emperor's love, would be a waste.
Meanwhile, the people of Yunlan cried out outside the gates; some even revolted in Liu Yunxiao's name, pleading for mercy and justice from the gods. But their voices were drowned by the cruelty of the regime and the iron hand of Empress Mei Xuanling. Lin Ziyu then spread more rumors, feeding the flames of revolt, but even that was in vain.
Unable to find any other options, he found himself descending into despair once again. Lin Ziyu used his last savings to acquire a golden cauldron, which he believed to be essential for crafting the immortality pills. But the process was arduous and painful.
He injured himself countless times, almost losing his life in some attempts. All the information he had gained from a court alchemist was wrong; the mistakes seemed to drag him even further into the abyss. He didn't know where to search anymore, where else to turn, while his mother wasted away before his eyes.
But he still had to try again.
In his chambers, farther south of the main residence in the Palace of Tears, Lin Ziyu was immersed in a difficult and risky task. The old calculations and methods he had read in the scriptures he received were engraved in his mind, and with relentless focus, he tried once more to recreate the immortality pill. The golden cauldron before him was the only valuable possession he had left after so many years of effort, glowing with a faint light.
It was indeed a powerful treasure.
The court alchemist, Wu Hao, had warned him that only such a cauldron could withstand the heat required for this process. So, Lin Ziyu decided not to wait for a miracle. His mother had no more time, and his only hope was right there, within that flame, fed by his determination. His skills, though not fully explored, finally found their purpose.
With extreme care, he added the necessary herbs and ingredients: golden ginseng, yulan root, mu zhi leaves, and the rare luo yin — legendary components known for their immortal properties. One by one, they were incorporated into the cauldron, just as Wu Hao had described.
The heat grew along the sides of the vessel, but Lin Ziyu remained unshaken. Some of the maids, still very loyal to the former royal family, were present. They understood the urgency of the situation and helped as much as they could, handing him the herbs and supplies as needed.
The temperature in the loft rose as Lin Ziyu concentrated, feeling his sweat trickle down his face, but he never took his eyes off the cauldron. The mixture inside began to boil in a peculiar way, and the vapors rose with an intense glow that lit up the room. The maids were fearful, wondering if something might go wrong, and kept their distance.
But the moment had arrived. Lin Ziyu, trying to stay focused, took a small vial from his tunic and dropped it into the bubbling liquid. For a moment, everything stopped — the sound of the fire, even the movements of the maids; everything quieted as the cauldron exhaled a shimmering golden light.
A sharp crack was the only warning he had before the storm formed. Cracks spread across the surface of the cauldron like lightning breaking the sky, and before Lin Ziyu could react, the treasure exploded in a wave of flames and incandescent debris. The impact shook the loft like thunder, scattering embers and sharp fragments across the room. But in an instant, Lin Ziyu raised a translucent barrier, preventing any shards from hitting the maids.
The fire roared around him, devouring fabrics and wood, but Lin Ziyu didn't hesitate. He closed his eyes for a brief second, channeled his energy, and with a single movement of his hands, smothered the flames until only the bitter scent of burning remained and a trail of destruction covered the floor.
In the center of the chaos, he stood still, breathing heavily. His gaze fixed on the empty space where the cauldron had been, and then, unable to contain himself, he fell to his knees. A dull thud resonated on the floor as his fist struck the scorched boards, and it was only then that he felt the familiar sting of tears running down his face.
Lin Ziyu had never been one to allow himself to falter. But now, in this moment, there was nothing more he could do. His failures only made what he feared most more real: his mother was dying, and he wasn't a strong enough alchemist to save her. His chest burned, not from physical pain, but from frustration. An uncontrollable desire to destroy everything around him, to reduce the whole world to ashes. He wanted to end every soul who had ever dared to hurt him.
But that wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be.
It was then that he heard hurried footsteps echoing through the outer courtyard.
"Young master!" A distressed voice exclaimed, breaking the suffocating silence of that autumn afternoon.
He lifted his head and saw one of the maids who served his mother running toward him. Her brown hair was disheveled, and her face seemed pale.
"Concubine Liu... she's vomiting blood! She's calling for you!"
Lin Ziyu didn't wait for her to finish. In one swift motion, he threw the long sleeves of his blue hanfu aside and dashed through the loft, running as fast as his legs could carry him. The cold wind of the morning cut through his skin, but he felt nothing but the growing fear in his chest. Each beat of his heart was like a terrible and cruel countdown. And he knew he couldn't afford to waste time.
When he arrived at his mother's residence, he noticed the room was filled with the metallic smell of blood, dense and suffocating, mixed with the faint scent of incense that had long since burned out. The scarlet velvet of the canopy was darkened by deep stains, tracing a tragic trail leading to the frail body lying on the cold marble floor.
Liu Yunxiao, once a stunning and envied empress, now was but a shadow of the woman she had once been. Her silk hanfu, which once fluttered like peach petals in the wind, was soaked in blood, and her skin, once as vibrant and radiant as the full moon, seemed to lose color with each passing second.
Lin Ziyu felt his chest tighten with a force that nearly made him collapse. His heart, already shattered by the failure of his alchemy, now broke into irreparable pieces. Without hesitation, he crossed the room in an instant, his footsteps echoing like thunder amid the deadly silence.
"Mother!" His voice broke the silence.
He knelt beside the fragile body, his fingers trembling as he held her. Liu Yunxiao felt so light... Light as if her soul was already slipping away, as if at any moment, a breeze could carry her far away. Her long eyelashes trembled slightly as she tried to open her eyes. Her lips, stained with blood, parted to whisper something inaudible.
With quick, determined steps, he placed her back onto the bed, adjusting the pillows to support her. His gaze swept over his mother, assessing every bloodstain, every faint tremble of her fingers, each labored breath that seemed to carry the promise of her final exhale.
"Prepare a hot bath, bring clean clothes!" he ordered, trying to push away the growing despair.
The maids hesitated for only a moment before rushing to obey his commands. But Lin Ziyu knew this was nothing but a temporary measure. It wasn't a hot bath that would bring his mother's life back. It wasn't clean clothes that would erase the fact that, before him, the woman who gave him life was dying.
He leaned over her, capturing every detail of her face.
"Mother, tell me what I can do. Anything. I'll do anything to save you," he murmured softly, a weary smile forming on his lips.
Liu Yunxiao opened her eyes with difficulty, and for a moment, Ziyu almost wished she hadn't. Because deep in her pupils, he saw something he didn't want to confront.
Resignation.
She had already accepted death.
Liu Yunxiao smiled faintly, a tired, melancholic smile, but one that carried a deep affection.
"You're scared, little Ziyu."
Lin Ziyu felt his teeth grind together, his chest tightening as if an invisible chain was pressing against him. The truth burned in his throat, but he fell silent, as if he couldn't even admit to himself the fear that consumed him.
"Of course I'm scared!" his voice came out rougher than he intended, a reflection of the anguish eating at him. "You're dying before me, and I can't do a thing!"
Liu Yunxiao let out a near-imperceptible laugh, as faint as a thread of silk in the wind, but her serenity seemed sharper than any scream. Her eyes, expressionless, seemed to challenge mortality itself.
"Always so impetuous..." she sighed heavily. "You never learned to accept what you cannot change."
Lin Ziyu fell silent, his gaze lost in some distant point. Her words were not simple; they carried a weight of bitter wisdom, as if she had already walked the same path and reached an end he still refused to see.
"Because this is a lie! The emperor has the pills of immortality. He could give you one! He could save you in an instant, but he chooses to cling to the poisoned words of the ministers! I just need..."
"No."
That single word carried an undeniable weight. Lin Ziyu blinked, his fury transforming into disbelief.
"Why?!" he almost shouted. "Zhao Xuanyuan destroyed our family... He took everything from me! And now he's taking my mother as well," Ziyu brought his fingers to his face, wiping away a tear that slowly trailed down his cheek.
Liu Yunxiao's eyes were calm, yet they carried a deep sadness.
"Because, despite everything... I loved him once," she said.
Lin Ziyu felt something inside him shatter.
Love? That word should not exist between them. Not after everything.
"You still speak of love? After everything he did?" Lin Ziyu frowned.
Liu Yunxiao blinked slowly, as if the weight of what she was about to say required more strength than she had left.
"Loving someone does not mean forgetting or forgiving. Nor does it erase what has happened. But the past... cannot be changed."
Lin Ziyu fell silent, his eyes fixed on the bloodstained sheet before him. Her words seemed to echo in his mind, but he didn't understand them. He couldn't accept them. The past haunted him, and Lin Ziyu knew there was no escaping it. He pressed his hands against the sheet, feeling the damp fabric against his fingers, trying to control the rage that was rising in his chest.
"So, I should just accept it?" His voice sounded rough, tinged with desperation and frustration. "Accept that you're dying while those who betrayed us remain unpunished?"
He turned his head away as if the very sight of Liu Yunxiao was unbearable at that moment. His body trembled, not from fear, but from an incendiary fury that threatened to spill over. Yunxiao raised a trembling hand and gently touched his face, a touch so light it almost didn't feel real.
"You can choose, Ziyu. You can choose to live."
He gritted his teeth.
"Live for what?" he scoffed. "To crawl like a dog in Zhao Xuanyuan's empire? To watch those who hurt us thrive while our lineage is erased?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated.
"To not become a monster," Liu Yunxiao cast a cautious look at her son.
Lin Ziyu's gaze hardened, a shadow of doubt and shame blending in the depths of his eyes.
"I'm not a monster..." He murmured, more to himself than to her, as if trying to convince himself, but the words sounded empty.
Liu Yunxiao watched him in silence for a moment. Then, a melancholic smile curved her lips, as subtle as a sigh lost in the wind.
"Not yet."
He felt something warm trickle down his cheek and realized it was tears. He couldn't tell if they were from anger, despair, or pain. Maybe they were all of them at once. Liu Yunxiao squeezed his hand with the little strength she had left in her.
"You need to make a choice, my son. Not today. But one day, when you're standing at the edge, when the shadow of what you might become looms over you..."
Lin Ziyu swallowed hard.
"I don't promise anything," he said, exasperated.
Liu Yunxiao closed her eyes, exhausted.
"I never asked you to promise. Just to remember."
Silence took over the room, and the scent of blood, incense, and bitter tea seemed to seep into the skin, the spirit. The maids returned hurriedly, bringing basins of hot water and clean towels, but Lin Ziyu barely noticed. He held his mother's hand for a few more moments, engraving every detail of her face, every line of her expression, every weak sigh. Then, slowly, he released her fingers and stood up.
He felt as though he were carrying the weight of a mountain on his shoulders. The world seemed a little colder. And, for the first time, he wondered if his mother was right. If he was already becoming what he hated most. A monster like the poisonous beings of the Yunlan court.
The sky over the Peach Blossom Palace was tinged with red-orange, as if even the heavens were crying in agony. But it was just a manifestation of Lin Ziyu's immense power, which was beginning to slip beyond his control. He stood there, before his mother, the image of her face burning in his soul like blades of fire.
"My little prince, don't cry like that," her voice was weak, but still carried a deep, unshakable affection. "You are my greatest treasure. Don't ruin this beautiful sight with those tears of sadness..."
Lin Ziyu's eyes trembled. His throat closed, choking any response.
"I don't care about the pain, the shame... You are my pride, everything I ever wanted. And I, as your mother, will love you even after death."
That was too much for him to bear.
A wave of pain tore through him, cutting him from the inside without mercy. The tears, which he had fought so hard to contain, fell uncontrollably. He went back to his mother's side, leaning down and pressing her fragile hand to his forehead, as if he could transfer all her pain, all her suffering, onto himself. But it was impossible.
He couldn't stay there any longer.
To be continued...