(That night)
Moonlight filtered gently through the thin canopy of bamboo, casting pale glimmers across the misty forest. A night owl cried in the distance. Aside from the drifting fog, the forest remained still. This sacred, secluded bamboo grove belonged to Mingxuan.
At its deepest part lay a vast hot spring.
Large, moss-covered stones jutted from the warm, bubbling waters. A pavilion stood to one side, modest yet complete, with a rack, a desk set with teapots, and a small stove nearby.
A narrow, stone-carved stairway wound down to the spring.
The depth varied. In some places the water barely reached the ankles. In other places, it rose to the waist. A few areas were chest-high, or even deeper.
More importantly, the spring was saturated with spiritual energy. But no one had ever stepped into this territory, except the Emperor.
It was already past midnight. An ideal place to hide. At least Mingxuan thought so, when he decided to come here to spend the night to avoid meeting with Xiangge.
That child was stubborn. He would not easily listen to others. If Mingxuan just ignore his invitation, Xiangge would follow him into his own room next.
Mingxuan didn't want to. So he quietly came here. But it was entirely unexpected to find Xiangge already here when he came, as if he knew where he was going.
And now, Mingxuan sat upon a flat, mossy stone. The water reached just above his narrow waist, concealing both the stone and the long white pants he wore.
Xiangge stood silently before him, expression cold, his gaze fixed on Mingxuan's bare chest. Had it been anyone else, they might have been entranced by the ethereal beauty of Mingxuan's exposed form.
That chest was finely built, strength carved into elegance.
Steam curled up from the misty waters, mingled with the drifting mist before condensing and falling like dew.
They trailed down that white jade skin, gathered to the mid of the chest and slid down in lines until it reached his abdomen and collected back to the waters again.
That half drenched, pale skin was almost translucent under the moonlight, giving it a strange glistening lustre of pearls.
Who would not be fascinated?
But unfortunately the other person was Xiangge. His gaze did not linger on that beauty. It was fixed on the long, jagged scar across Mingxuan's chest. He frowned deeply.
Mingxuan remained motionless, eyes closed.
Xiangge wore a loose white bathrobe, sleeves rolled back. It stuck wetly to his slender frame. He reached a nearby stone, where his necessities were placed, and picked up a silvery needle.
Upon his other palm appeared a thin glimmering silver thread condensed by his own spiritual energy. He slipped it into the needle carefully.
The stab wound had already been washed. But it was hideous. It showed no sign of healing. Never scabbed, never sealed.
Xiangge knew it was the poison. Though the gash no longer bled, the edges remained blackened and festered, the flesh gaping open like a curse.
Xiangge carefully collected the two separated skins and merged into one neatly before inserting the needle. His eyes subconsciously raised to look at Mingxuan's face.
Doesn't he feel pain?
But Xiangge did not want to care either.
The shimmering thread slipped beneath Mingxuan's skin like a pearly serpent weaving through snow jade.
As he neared the end, he habitually leaned down to bite the thread. His soft lips brushed Mingxuan's cold chest.
He froze.
Why hadn't he used the blade instead!!?
Slowly, he looked up and met Mingxuan's gaze. Mingxuan was watching him.
Xiangge swallowed hard. His face stayed blank, but his trembling fingertips on Mingxuan's chest gave him away.
Mingxuan noticed. He knew Xiangge too well. Hadn't he raised him? He knew Xiangge's abilities, like pretending to look expressionless while he was screaming in his heart...
But Mingxuan did not expose him. He quietly closed his eyes again.
Xiangge exhaled in relief, and placed the needle aside. He picked up a clean handkerchief and wiped the water from the wound.
"I'm going to use a healing spell," he said with narrowed eyes. "Don't use your cultivation until I'm done."
"Zhen is fine with anything," came the cold reply.
Xiangge stared at the stitched wound. Then, placing his warm palm gently over it, he closed his eyes and began to chant a certain powerful healing incantation. His lips moved in silence. Silver mist gathered at the base of his palm and flowed smoothly into the gash.
It penetrated deeper than flesh. It reached the frozen heart beneath.
Mingxuan slowly opened his eyes and stole a glance at Xiangge who could not see him. His gaze softened, sorrow etching in his eyes.
Nearby, silver water trickled over stone, wetting Xiangge's black hair. Drops slid down his face, from his pale chin, down his throat, disappearing beneath his soaked lapels.
His long lashes trembled like butterfly wings. His lips, pale and parted, shimmered wet like soft pink petals. Dark strands of hair stuck to his face. He looked like a fallen immortal.
Mingxuan's heart clenched.
This fragile, broken thing... he had crushed him before he ever bloomed. Yet now, he was healing him.
Mingxuan shut his eyes. Guilt gnawed him.
Xiangge suddenly coughed. His palm shuddered. The spiritual flow faltered. Then his lips moved faster, his brows furrowing. A thin line of blood slid from the corner of his mouth.
Mingxuan's heart tightened.
Moments later, the hand that was pressing against his chest loosened and was removed slowly. The misty sparks around Xiangge's palm vanished. He opened his hazy eyes. They were a bit out of focus. And wet. He slightly panted.
The power of his healing spells were not to be underestimated. The place where the hideous wound was sewn was now smooth and clean. It was as if it never got wounded. Not even a scar remained.
Successfully healed. Now he only had to detoxify the poison.
Xiangge let out a sigh of relief, brushing the wet hair from his eyes. Then he wiped away the blood off his lips with the back of his sleeves. He reached his other hand to a wooden phial on the stone and held it out.
"One pill from this can save someone from deathbed. Take one every six hours," he said. "Until I finish the antidote."
Their fingers touched as Mingxuan took the phial.
Xiangge flinched, withdrawing his hand as if burned. "Your wound's healed. Don't stay in the water too long. Go rest."
Mingxuan stood. The soaked garment was drenched with dripping water and sticked into his long legs almost indecently.
Xiangge tilted his head, avoiding the sight.
Mingxuan passed him in silence for several steps when suddenly he froze, stunned. Because almost in a low voice, he heard Xiangge say, "I'm sorry."
Mingxuan stopped in his steps abruptly. "For what?"
"For stabbing you," Xiangge said in a strangled whisper. "For running away without trying to clear my name. I made everything worse. I'm sorry... I truly am."
Mingxuan's jaw tightened.
Xiangge turned to him with reddened eyes. His lips trembled. "Mingxuan... didn't you have something to say to me too?"
Mingxuan stood still. Then, coldly, "No."
Xiangge's eyes burned. He looked stricken, broken. His voice cracked. "Is it so hard... to ask for forgiveness? For what you did to me?"
Mingxuan's fingertips curled. He didn't speak.
Xiangge gave a soft laugh, wet and bitter.
"I see," he whispered, trying to suppress the ache in his chest. "All this time, I only wanted to know. Did you ever think of me as a brother? Or did you raise me just to use me?"
Silence...
Xiangge clenched his teeth to control himself. "I keep dreaming, of the days when I used to hang around you, calling you 'big brother.' But when I wake..." He shut his eyes. "I realize they weren't just memories. But nightmares. Ones that will haunt me forever."
He slowly exhaled a ragged breath. When he opened his eyes, a single tear slid down his cheek. "You were all I had. All I ever wanted to know... was whether you felt even a shred of guilt."
Mingxuan turned. His slightly red eyes were sharp and cold. "This Empire belongs to Zhen. Every life in it does too. Zhen sees no fault in doing as he wishes."
Xiangge suddenly laughed. It was loud, hoarse, and agonizing.
"Of course! The benevolent Emperor who murdered his own elder brother to snatch his throne and married his widow even before the body was cold! You were despicable enough to father a child with her, just to secure the throne!"
He trembled. Rage surged in him.
"And Shenya? You married her by force and ignored her! Consort Xian? She served you with her life! And you? You slept with her, then killed her! You still call yourself honorable?!"
Mingxuan opened his mouth, but no words came.
Xiangge sniffled, wiping away his tears furiously. His shoulders shook. "Even now... I can forgive what you did to me."
He raised his moist eyes to Mingxuan. "Just say sorry. Once. And I'll forgive it all... my mother, my father, my sister. Everything you took from me. Just say it..."
At the mention of late Emperor Hua and his wife, Mingxuan's face suddenly drew gloomy. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Xuanji. Let go of it. There's nothing good in bringing this up. It won't bring them back."
These words stabbed Xiangge like knives. "Mingxuan, they died to satisfy your greed for power."
His voice broke. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, trying to hold it in. It didn't work.
"I just envy you. At least you spent time with your parents until you turned fifteen. But I didn't get to be with my parents more than even two years. I've already forgotten what they used to look like..."
Mingxuan clenched his teeth. "If Zhen killed them, they deserved it."
Xiangge froze, eyes widening.
His voice dropped. "Even my parents? My sister? What did they do!!? They... they did nothing wrong..."
"Does Zhen need a reason to kill them? If Zhen says they must die, then they must die."
Xiangge stared at him, his face going pale. The absurdity of it all crashed in waves like a dam breaking.
Why?
But why!!?
Because Mingxuan was the Emperor? So he could look down on everyone else and trample them beneath his feet?
Xiangge swallowed blood, suppressing the fire that was burning in him.
"Then kill me too! I deserve it. Ten thousand deaths wouldn't be enough."
Mingxuan stood still, then his voice dropped like ice. "Zhen hasn't finished using you."
The words slapped him like thunder. Xiangge staggered, his hands trembling. His lips parted in disbelief.
Everyone was gone. His parents, sister, even lover. And he was alive because he hadn't been used enough?
He said nothing.
He turned and reached for his dagger on the stone.
Mingxuan's eyes widened.
Xiangge unsheathed it, fast as lightning. But before he could plunge it into himself, a hand seized his wrist.
"Let go of me!" Xiangge yelled, thrashing wildly.
Mingxuan turned him over and slammed him against the mossy wall. His grip tightened. Even the bones cracked under the pressure, and pain seared up, sharp like knives.
The dagger hit the water and sank.
Xiangge didn't move. He stared at the place where it disappeared, breathing hard. His face slowly distorted.
His lips moved but no sound came. Then a laugh escaped, high and broken, nothing like his real laugh, and his hands slammed over his mouth as if he could push it back in.
"They're waiting for me." The words came out hoarsely. "My family. They've been waiting all this time and I'm still–"
Still here. Still breathing. Still kneeling at someone's mercy, having survived everything that should have ended him.
"No." He shook his head furiously. Confused. Like a child waking from a nightmare into a room he didn't recognize. "No, this isn't– I didn't– Why am I still–"
He couldn't finish. Couldn't find the end of any sentence. His knees went weak.
Mingxuan caught him before he collapsed.
"Xiangge! Look at me!"
Xiangge's head was dizzy. His eyes were unfocussed. Tears ran down his face in silence, as if his body was crying independently of whatever was left of his mind.
He raised his head slowly at the sound of his name. His gaze found Mingxuan's face and stayed there, unfocused, like a man trying to remember something he'd forgotten how to say.
Ruined. Completely ruined.
Mingxuan's throat burned.
He couldn't hold back anymore. He flicked Xiangge's forehead with his fingertips. Xiangge went limp in his arms.
Mingxuan hugged him, caressing his head. The moonlight filtered through the mist, brightening just a side of Xiangge's unconscious face.
Mingxuan's arms slowly tightened.
No matter how hard he tried to push this child away, and draw a line between them, Xiangge broke it. Even when Xiangge knew it would break his heart in the end.
Asking forgiving for a mistake wasn't hard. Words can be said, feelings will eventually be revealed.
But...
The impossible part was that he could never forgive himself for destroying Xiangge's life...