Chapter 1
The heavy incense in the emperor's private chamber burned low, filling the air with sweetness that clung to the silk draperies.
Shen Qingyu lay on the massive bed, his robes half-undone, the pale expanse of his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
His long black hair spilled across the pillows like spilled ink, a few strands sticking to the sweat on his neck. Emperor Helian Jue loomed over him, one large hand braced beside Qingyu's head, the other hand tracing a possessive line down his side.
"Your Majesty…" Qingyu's voice came out soft, breathy, the way the emperor liked it. He tilted his head back, exposing the elegance column of his throat. "Please be gentle tonight."
Helian Jue's dark eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.
"Gentle?" He let out a low, humorless chuckle, leaning down until his lips brushed Qingyu's ear. "You always say that, yet you take everything I give. Greedy little consort."
Qingyu forced a soft moan as the emperor's hand slid lower, grouping his hip with bruising strength. The touch was familiar and demanding,never truly tender.
In the early days, Qingyu had mistaken this fire for passion, for love. He had whispered promises into the night, offered his heart on a silver platter, only to watch it be ignored.
Tonight was no different.
As Helian Jue moved against him, powerful, Qingyu stared above, counting the golden threads in the embroidery to keep his mind detached.
One…two…three…Each thrust sent a jolt through his body, but the ache in his chest was more than any physical pain.
"You've been quiet lately," Helian Jue muttered between breaths, his voice rough. "What are you thinking? No more of those foolish poems?"
Qingyu smiled up at him. "This consort knows his place, Your Majesty. I would not burden you with trivialities when the empire demands your focus."
Helian Jue paused, searching his face with an intensity that made Qingyu's stomach twist. For a moment, it almost looked like regret. Then the emperor's expression hardened again.
"Good to see that you remember it."
The act ended as it always did swiftly. Leaving Qingyu marked and the emperor satisfied. Helian Jue rolled off him without a word of comfort, reaching for the wine on the side table. He didn't offer any to Qingyu.
Qingyu sat up slowly, pulling his inner robes closed over the fresh bruises blooming on his skin. His body ached in places that would linger for days, but he kept his face serene, like the flawless jade ornament the court called him.
A soft knock sounded at the chamber door.
"Your Majesty," came the careful voice of Eunuch Liu, the emperor's most trusted attendant. "The ministers await in the outer hall. The matter of the Yun family taxes…"
Helian Jue waved a dismissive hand, though the eunuch couldn't see it. "Tell them I'll join shortly."
He glanced back at Qingyu, his gaze stayed on the disheveled hair and swollen lips. "You may return to your pavilion. Do not wait up."
Qingyu bowed his head and stood despite the soreness. "As you command, Your Majesty."
He dressed quickly under the emperor's indifferent watch, every movement practiced to hide the tremble in his hands.
As he slipped out the side door reserved for consorts, the night air of the imperial palace hit him first.
Xiao He, Qingyu's loyal personal eunuch, waited in the shadows near the cluster of bamboo. Small and quick-witted, with a face that could shift from innocent to deadly serious in a heartbeat, Xiao He fell into step beside him without a word at first.
"Young Master," he finally whispered once they were far enough from the emperor's residence. "You look tired. Did he–"
"I'm fine." Qingyu cut in, his voice barely audible. "Just another night."
Xiao He glanced around, ensuring no spies lurked among the flowering trees.
"The rumors are growing worse. The Prime Minister's faction is pushing hard against your father, the Duke of Yun. They say the taxes from the southern estates are suspiciously low."
Qingyu's steps faltered for half a second. In the five years since entering the palace as a low ranking consort, he had watched his family's influence erode like sand.
At first, Helian Jue had seemed pleased by the alliance of the Duke of Yun's vast wealth and military connections that had helped stabilize the throne after a bloody ascension. Qingyu had been the pretty bridge, the smiling face that sealed the deal.
But love? No. Helian Jue had never loved him. He collected consorts like rare artifacts and displayed them like banquets.
Qingyu had ignored the cold glances, the dismissals and the way the emperor's eyes lit up only for power. He had poured everything into being perfect: reciting poetry that praised the throne, dancing at festivals with ethereal grace and warming his bed without complaint.
All for a man who saw him as decoration.
They reached Qingyu's pavilion in the outer harem. It wasn't the grandest, but elegant with its jade accent and lotus pond.
Inside, the air smelled of medicinal herbs Xiao He had prepared for the bruises.
As Qingyu sat by the mirror, letting Xiao He gently comb out his tangled hair, memories flooded in. The day he first entered the palace as a nervous 22-year-old, his heart full of naive hope.
Helian Jue had barely looked at him during the ceremony, his attention on the border report. The remembrance of Consort Lian's mocking voice. "Jade Consort? More like Forgotten Jade."
Consort Lian was the emperor's newest favorite with her ambitious eyes and sharp-tongued and Qingyu's rival.
"Xiao He," Qingyu called softly, staring at his reflection. His face was still ethereally beautiful. Porcelain skin, delicate features framed by silk hair. "If something happens to me, promise you'll escape. Take the hidden gold I buried under the third lotus stone."
Xiao He's hand stilled on the comb. "Young Master, don't talk like that. The Duke is strong and we'll figure this out."
But Qingyu knew better. The signs were already there with the increased scrutiny on his family's accounts and the emperor's growing distance in bed.
Even the court now looked at him like a disloyal element since he was the Duke's son and the reason the deal was sealed.
One evening, during a grand banquet celebrating a northern victory, Qingyu sat at the emperor's side in his finest robes, playing the role of devoted consort. Helian Jue laughed with generals and ignored Qingyu's offerings of wine before retiring to bed with Consort Lian.
Qingyu had felt tears brew his eyes before he walked away.
Later, Imperial guards stormed the Yun's family estates and accusations of treason of fabricated letters and plotting with enemy kingdoms flew within seconds. Qingyu was dragged from his pavilion before the sun rose, still in his sleeping robes.
"Hold on, let me explain!"
"There's nothing left to explain. You'll be beheaded soon anyways." One of the guards retorted.
In the Cold Palace, a desolate wing for fallen consorts, he was thrown in for days. Days soon turned to weeks, yet no news from his family. Worse, none from the emperor.
Xiao He managed to smuggle in what little news he could gather: The Duke of Yun has been executed and his little sister captured. The family lands had also been seized.
Qingyu sat on the filthy floor, chains around his wrists, his once luxurious robes reduced to rags. His body was thin, weakened by meager rations and the biting cold. Bruises from rough handling faded into new ones.
On the final night, fever burned through him. He was getting sweaty by the passing seconds.
"Why?" he whispered to the empty cell, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I gave you everything. My heart, my future. Was I truly nothing more than a pretty ornament?"
Footsteps echoed outside as the door creaked open and a guard entered, carrying a tray with a single cup.
"Orders from His Majesty," the man said flatly. "The traitor's son."
Qingyu knew that it was poison. According to the palace standards, if anyone was accused of treason or caught, they were to be killed.
He took the cup with steady hands, though his heart shattered one final time. Even in death, there was no farewell.
As the bitter liquid slid down his throat, fire spreading through his veins, Qingyu closed his eyes. "In another life…I hope I never meet you again, Helian Jue."
Pain consumed him as darkness swallowed everything.