The young prince spent the entire night locked in his mother's residence, holding her in his arms, even though her body was drenched in blood. No hand dared to touch her, and he made sure of that with desperate fervor. To ensure no living soul dared to remove her from his side, Lin Ziyu raised an impenetrable barrier on the grand mahogany doors of the room, sealing them with a restraining spell that repelled any attempts of approach.
Anyone who dared to try to pass would be immediately rejected, crushed by a pressure so brutal it seemed to come from the heavens themselves. Lin Ziyu had not been jesting when he threatened the servants and much of the imperial court to stay away from the Palace of Tears. He needed to mourn, to sink into that pain in the way only he knew how to endure, or he would never find peace in his soul.
But as the sun replaced the moon and day shone in the sky, the restraining seal vanished, and the century-old mahogany doors creaked open, their sound echoing due to years of neglect. Many other structures within the Palace of Tears were decaying, nearly rotten, and smelling of aged wood.
When Lin Ziyu took his first step outside, the golden morning light illuminated his pale skin. His eyes were completely red, marked by the pain and the terrible exhaustion he felt throughout his body, his bones stiff from staying in the same position. But his supernatural beauty remained untouched.
His long brown hair cascaded freely, spreading in soft waves over his magnificent deep blue hanfu, which seemed to absorb the daylight. The wind blew gently, swaying the fabric of his garments and making his silhouette appear even more ethereal.
He stood there for a long moment, gathering air in his lungs, while he could feel the countless pitying gazes fixed on his deplorable state, completely clumsy and destroyed. The servants dared not speak, but they could clearly see that something within him had changed. It was not just a deep pain that was difficult to endure. He was determined to change his own fate.
Finally, the deposed prince broke the silence:
"Listen closely to what I will say: all the servants of the court must know this," he raised his chin and fixed a stern gaze on each of the figures before him. "There will be no words to erase this. Today, everyone will know the true dragon prince, and everyone will understand the weight of the mistake they made by underestimating me. Let each of you carry this memory, for those who forget the lessons of today will pay the price tomorrow."
A young maid, with long brown hair and light eyes, dressed in a delicate lilac robe, took a few steps towards Lin Ziyu and hesitated for a moment before speaking. But she found enough courage to meet his gaze directly.
"Gongzi… what do you mean by this?"
Lin Ziyu raised his eyes, and for a moment, the young maid felt a chill run down her spine. His eyes, despite his exhaustion, shone with an indescribable light; they were fierce beyond measure.
"Liu Yunxiao deserves to be remembered to the end. Not only as the empress who ruled, but as the woman who saved Yunlan from the darkness. Her name must echo through eternity and make Zhao Xuanyuan and his selfish wife live tormented lives, until death, if necessary…" He took a deep breath, as if sealing his decision within himself.
The prince walked slowly toward the marble stairs, the long sleeves of his hanfu swaying, and descended a few steps, never breaking his gaze from the maid.
"We will take her body to the top of the highest mountain in Yong'an!" he declared. "We will pass through the center of the city so everyone can see her. And then they will say: "The empress who pulled Yunlan out of the age of darkness, even in death, was still a woman of courage."
Silence weighed in the air like a stone cast into a deep lake. The servants and the three imperial guards in the Palace of Tears exchanged glances; it was clear that everyone was uncertain. The idea seemed bold, risky. Some might even consider it a direct challenge to the new empress.
However, who would dare prevent Prince Lin Ziyu from carrying out this revolutionary act? Concubine Liu was the only one who had any influence over him, the only one who could restrain his unpredictable nature. But now she was gone. Without his mother to control him, who could predict what the young Wangzi would do?
Wangzi… Why did everyone still insist on calling him that? Wouldn't it be easier to see him as just another commoner? His life might have been less tragic. But there was nothing in the world that could make him regret being born as Liu Yunxiao's son. She was the most wonderful person to ever walk the earth.
Yet, without his mother, sooner or later, the young prince would flee the imperial palace, disappearing into the martial world. When that happened, his personal court would also have to find a new way to survive. But Lin Ziyu would never abandon them to their fate. They knew that.
He took a step forward, lifting the sleeve of his hanfu to wipe the remaining tears from his face. His gestures were always soft, almost delicate, but everyone knew that beneath that serene appearance, there was an incomprehensible power. Lin Ziyu didn't possess the strong features of a warrior, but still, a single glance from him would make any man or woman hesitate — whether from fear or extreme admiration.
Finally, he turned his gaze to his servants.
"Prepare my bath. And... oh, heavens..." He hesitated for a moment. "In the meantime, I ask that you tend to my mother's body."
No one questioned him. They merely nodded and hurried to fulfill his orders.
Lin Ziyu walked with great apprehension toward his chambers, followed by some maids assigned to prepare the bath. While he waited, he kneeled on the floor and began cleaning up the mess he had caused with the explosion of the golden cauldron. He needed something to distract his mind.
Among the debris, he found a small object of sentimental value: a pearl pendant, which had been a special gift from Huang Wuxin to seal their eternal friendship. It was a small crystal, a remnant of the countless stones he had used to collect from the river and present to Prince Lin Ziyu as if they were priceless treasures. How ironic… in the end, all that remained was a single stone.
After a while, one of the maids returned to the loft, informing him that everything was ready.
"Gongzi, your bath has been prepared," she said, keeping her head lowered.
Lin Ziyu rose from the floor, adjusting the hair that had stuck to his lips.
"I thank you. Now, please prepare my mourning robes," he ordered gently. "And I would also like you to bring me a large plaque. I want it to read:
"Our voices have been silenced, and an innocent soul was lost in the hands of the empire."
The air seemed to freeze around them. The words echoed throughout the hall like distant thunder, a sentence that, once spoken, could not be retracted. The maid dared not speak, for she knew. This was a phrase that could very well be the final warning from the deposed prince before a storm would sweep through Yunlan in full force.
Lin Ziyu stood at the center of the room, his eyes lowered, his expression unreadable. The scent of freshly gathered herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the faint perfume of lotus flowers exhaling from the large steaming bath. The steam rose slowly, like a translucent veil, reflecting in the jade pearls embedded in the columns.
He raised his hand and slid his fingers along the belt that held his robes in place, gently undoing the knot. The blue hanfu, always his favorite piece, slid off his shoulders in a cascade of soft silk, revealing his pale skin, only marked by the golden reflection of the candlelight. The fabric pooled at his feet, piling on the floor like a river of sapphire.
He took a step forward, feeling the cold wooden boards beneath his bare feet, before finally approaching the bath. The surface of the water reflected his face, distorted by the subtle ripples of heat. Lin Ziyu stood there for a moment, motionless, before bending his knees and slipping into the bath, allowing the water to envelop his body completely.
As he sank fully, he closed his eyes and held his breath. The warm water pressed against his skin, muffling all sounds of the outside world. Beneath that liquid layer, time seemed suspended, as if he could stay there forever, lost in the darkness of his own thoughts. But soon, the air ran out, forcing him to emerge.
When his head broke the surface, he took a deep breath, and the droplets ran down his face, mingling with the remnants of tears he hadn't known had stopped. His fingers slid over his hands, rubbing them as if he could erase the invisible marks left by Liu Yunxiao's blood, but the weight of that traumatic vision remained, buried under his skin.
It was then that his gaze turned to the slightly ajar window. The autumn breeze softly curled into the room, bringing with it the sweet scent of peach blossoms swaying on the trees outside. He fixed his eyes on one of the branches, watching closely as a small pink petal detached and began to float in the air, spinning slowly as it was carried by the wind.
With a subtle gesture, Lin Ziyu raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. The air around him responded immediately. The breeze that had previously followed its own course now obeyed his will, guiding the petal through the room until it gently landed on the tip of his fingers. He stared at it for a moment, holding it between the thumb and the index finger. It was delicate, almost translucent under the candlelight.
Lin Ziyu inhaled softly and then blew a cold breath over it. In that instant, the petal froze, and its pink surface transformed into a small ice crystal, shimmering like a shard of carved jade.
He continued to gaze at the frozen petal, lost in distant memories. His mother had ordered those trees to be planted when he was still young. She said she wanted him to have something beautiful to admire, something that would bring him happiness when everything around him turned dark. And indeed, those trees had illuminated the Palace of Tears, bringing a breath of life to a place that had once been nothing but a refuge of solitude and bitterness.
But now, his mother was no longer there to see them bloom again.
His fingers slowly closed around the frozen petal, and he brought it to the crystal pendant hanging from his neck. With a gentle motion, he allowed the petal to merge with the crystal, becoming part of that single piece of Huang Wuxin he still kept. At that moment, Wangzi made his decision.
Time at the Imperial Palace had come to an end.
After bathing for several more hours, Lin Ziyu emerged from the tub, letting the warm water glide over his skin as he slowly walked across the room, enveloped in a heavy silence. The steam still lingered in the air, making the atmosphere unbearably hot and hazy. As he approached the bed, his gaze fell on the white lingfu, delicately arranged on the soft fabric.
It was a long, austere garment made of white linen, without any adornments or decorations. With long sleeves and a simple belt that adjusted to the shoulders, there was a strip reserved to be tied around the head. Every detail, in its simplicity and according to tradition, was meant to reflect the pain and respect for loss, with no trace of luxury.
However, Lin Ziyu hesitated before touching the lingfu. To wear it would be the same as accepting a reality he could no longer bear. But he had no choice. He dressed slowly, feeling each layer of the fabric like an iron chain tightening around his chest, tearing at his soul.
When he put on the last piece, he walked over to the desk, where two carved wooden plaques rested. He picked up the smaller one, which carried the name of his mother, Liu Yunxiao, etched in perfect, delicate calligraphy, and held it lightly against his chest. The other, a larger plaque, bore the phrase he had ordered to be carved — a testament to the eternal love and respect he held for his mother.
With the plaques in hand, he exited the loft, and as soon as he crossed the doorframe, he was met by a crowd of servants lined up in a disturbing silence. Some didn't even belong to the Palace of Tears.
Their faces were somber, their eyes lowered as if they could see the devastated soul of the Wangzi, honoring the absence, fearing the void that had settled there. In the center stood a large wooden coffin.
Inside it, Liu Yunxiao appeared to rest peacefully, but not as one who merely slept. It was a deep and eternal sleep. Lin Ziyu sighed deeply and raised his right hand, signaling the servants to proceed as planned. They then formed a procession, moving slowly through the vast corridors of the imperial palace.
They walked through numerous corridors that seemed like endless labyrinths, crossing courtyards and dark passages, until they finally reached the main gates. However, something Lin Ziyu had already expected happened.
A barrier of thirty imperial guards awaited them, armed to the teeth with spears and swords, held rigidly aloft to block the prince's advance. Lin Ziyu stopped in front of the group, the daytime wind stirring the folds of his white lingfu. His cold gaze met that of the soldiers without a hint of hesitation.
He handed the plaque with the carved phrase to one of the maids, keeping the one with his mother's name firmly against his chest.
The prince raised one of his hands, and a golden energy seemed to oscillate around him, as if the very air bowed to his will. Lin Ziyu was about to snap his fingers and unleash a potentially bloody disaster when a sound stopped him. It was a sublime melody, so intense that the Wangzi nearly collapsed to the ground, feeling the strength leave his legs. If it hadn't been for a maid who supported him in time, he would surely have fallen.
The sound of a zither cut through the silence, flowing like a peaceful river between the fallen leaves. It was the late concubine Liu's favorite melody.
Lin Ziyu lifted his eyes and saw, high on the rooftops, a young man outlined against the sunlight. His long black hair danced in the wind, and his pale eyes seemed to reflect the very sky. He was beautiful in an almost unreal way, yet his presence came with an overwhelming, almost malignant aura.
It was the crown prince, Wang Lin.
The numerous guards, who moments before blocked the way, immediately knelt, lowering their heads in his presence. The deep sound of that zither was enough to destabilize them. Lin Ziyu, however, did not hesitate.
He cast one final glance at Wang Lin before resuming his march. He would not allow anyone to prevent his mother from resting as she deserved. She would be buried at the top of the highest mountain in Yong'an, surrounded by golden maple trees, where she had always felt closest to the heavens. It was what she had wished for.
However, just as the procession was about to cross the gates, a new presence made itself known.
"Her Majesty, Empress Mei Xuanling has arrived!", The voice of the eunuch broke the silence.
The crowd of servants and soldiers parted, forming a wide corridor. The whispers ceased, and all eyes turned to the main entrance of the courtyard, where the sound of soft footsteps mingled with the clinking of countless jewels.
Then, through the gap between the motionless bodies, a luxurious palanquin appeared, carried by eunuchs and maids walking in perfect synchronization. Fine red silk curtains swayed gently in the breeze, revealing only indistinct shadows of the person inside. It was a nujiao, an imperial palanquin reserved exclusively for the women of the court. Its presence left no doubt: only someone of absolute status could move with such grandeur within the forbidden walls of the palace.
The maids stopped, and one of the eunuchs hurried to pull back the curtain with the tips of his fingers, lowering his head in a deep bow. Then, Mei Xuanling emerged from the palanquin.
Her feet, delicately clad in brocade shoes, touched the cold stone floor without making a sound, as if even the world itself dared not acknowledge her presence without her permission. Her gown was a splendor in itself — a golden daofu, made of the rarest fabric, embroidered with phoenix patterns in pure gold threads. Her face, flawless as porcelain, displayed a chilling serenity, and her narrow, dark eyes were filled with judgment.
Lin Ziyu stood firm before her, his gaze unwavering, but his fists, hidden under the long sleeves, were clenched with a visceral strength trying to keep contained. The scent of incense and lotus exuded by Mei Xuanling permeated the air, making the encounter even more suffocating. She did not make a greeting; she didn't need to. Her cold gaze fixed directly on Lin Ziyu's face before her voice broke the silence.
"You will not take the body of this whore out of the palace", she said, making her venomous tone crystal clear.
The servants lowered their heads even further, fearing that merely witnessing this ridiculous scene would draw the empress's wrath upon them. The guards, despite their rigidity, hesitated slightly, as if they felt the approach of a storm about to explode. Lin Ziyu did not move, but something cold ran down his spine. Anger and pain intertwined in his chest like venomous snakes. Mei Xuanling wanted to deny his mother even a proper rest?
His eyes gleamed like blades of ice as he lifted his chin, refusing to bow before her.
"Your opinion, Mei Xuanling, is worth as much as the dirt that sticks to a coachman's boots after a day in the imperial stables. And my mother will be buried where I said, whether you like it or not", he said, with an impassive gaze, as if already deciding that any retort would be as useless as trying to argue with the wind.
Mei Xuanling laughed softly, as if Lin Ziyu's words were an insignificant joke.
"She deserves to be consumed by flames. A traitor has no right to a tomb."
Lin Ziyu's anger flared instantly. His gaze, once merely cold, now burned with a scorching fire, threatening to consume everything around him. The desire to see her kneel, swallowing each word with tears in her eyes, coursed through his mind like a sharp blade.
He lifted his chin, his face impassive, but his voice fell like a dagger.
"Watch your words, Mei Xuanling."
The air in the courtyard felt heavy, suffocating like molten lead. But the empress was not easily intimidated. A mocking smile appeared on her lips, painted red, and her dark eyes gleamed with something close to amusement.
"The one who should watch out is you, little insect", she said, her voice dripping like poisoned honey. "Or do you think your mother was some saint? Liu Yunxiao was a disgrace to this court. A weakness disguised as virtue. And you inherited that from her, didn't you? That foolish illusion that you can defy the emperor and go unscathed."
Lin Ziyu felt something break inside him. It was not an explosive fury, but a silent crack, like thin ice about to collapse under the weight of a cruel winter. His fists clenched at his sides, digging his nails into his skin until he felt a slight pain. He didn't blink, didn't step back, but his chest rose and fell heavily, as if a fierce wolf was roaring within his soul, begging to be set free.
"Liu Yunxiao was always a damn disgrace", Mei Xuanling continued, dragging the words as if savoring each one. "So weak that she preferred to die than face the truth about herself."
The dry sound echoed in the courtyard like thunder. Mei Xuanling staggered a step backward, her head turning with the impact. The silence that followed was absolute, almost suffocating. The servants held their breath. The guards, even trained for war, stiffened, tense as the strings of a bow about to snap.
Lin Ziyu maintained his stance. His hand was still suspended in the air, trembling with fury. The empress's pale skin now bore a vivid scarlet mark, a reminder of the burning touch of his wrath. She slowly raised her face and stared at him with wide eyes. It was not pain. It was not fear. It was surprise. Incredulity. No one had ever touched her like that. Not even the emperor.
On the rooftops, Wang Lin moved. With a single leap, he landed on the stone floor, his feet barely making a sound. His sharp gaze flickered between the empress and the young man before her. His hands hung relaxed at his sides, holding the guqin, but there was a latent danger there, like a coiled serpent, ready to strike at the slightest sign of disaster.
But before he could intervene, Lin Ziyu lifted his gaze. And in that instant, everyone understood that something irreversible had happened.
"If anyone wishes to stop me, they will have to die", his voice rang out like a decree carved in iron and fire.
The threat was not empty, it was not bravado. It was real.
The sky, which had been clear until then, began to close in with heavy clouds. The wind howled through the courtyard, tearing silk ribbons from the columns. Dust rose in swirling gusts, as if the earth itself was reacting to the power emanating from Lin Ziyu's body, without him needing to move a single muscle.
"Not even the Celestial Emperor can stop me now", he said, still with his impassive gaze.
And then, Lin Ziyu snapped his fingers.
The sound was almost imperceptible, but it carried within it the force of an immense power about to awaken. The chains sealing the palace gates trembled, like a giant waking from a bad sleep. And the iron gates, indomitable and imposing, which would never yield before an ordinary man, began to move.
Lin Ziyu walked toward the exit but did not dare look back. The sound of his footsteps reverberated on the ground, as if causing small earthquakes; his body still emanated that golden light.
No one dared stop him.
Mei Xuanling remained where she was, her expression unreadable. Perhaps she was furious, calculating the price of her near-death, haunted by an inner demon she could not even name. But she said nothing and did nothing. It is possible that, on that cold morning, the entire Yunlan Empire would witness the pain of a son who would forever be marked in history.
To be continued...