If life were like the first encounter, why would the autumn wind grieve for the painted fan?
Warm blood sprayed across his face, dyeing his eyes red.
In that moment, he felt as if his heart had stopped beating.
The maiden disliked wearing plain colors; she was always gorgeously adorned like a blooming peony. Now, her white robes were stained crimson.
Her slender, thick eyelashes still clung to droplets of blood. He rushed towards her, staggering as he approached, his fear and panic overwhelming.
With a thud, his knees buckled, and they struck the ground. His lips trembled uncontrollably.
He raised his hand and, in a most foolish gesture, tried to cover the gushing wound on the maiden's neck. The warm, bright blood flowed increasingly, leaking through his fingers.
The maiden parted her lips, seemingly wanting to say something, her eyelashes quivering intensely.
Cheng Qian Gong lowered his head, attempting a smile. Tears blurred his vision, but he smiled, his voice gentle, "Why are you so foolish? Why are you so foolish..."
"I never wanted to kill you. Everything I said was true..."
He had promised that if Shen Yue turned back to him, he would grant her wish, marry her, love her, cherish her, and never be separated until their hair turned white.
Then, they would leave the court, leave the strife, leave the schemes, and live a carefree, unworldly life.
Just the two of them.
He had planned everything, except that Shen Yue did not agree to his terms.
Shen Yue did not believe him at all.
Shen Yue thought he was in league with Shen Yao Jin, believing his words were merely meant to deceive her.
Foolish.
Too foolish.
"I like you, can't you tell?" he whispered into Shen Yue's ear, finally voicing the love that had taken root in his heart and grown into a towering tree, an endless torrent that surged through his nerves, fueling his every moment of softness and panic.
The maiden's eyes were half-closed. As she opened her mouth, blood flowed out.
Half of her fair face was stained with blood.
She must have been in immense pain, her whole body trembling, yet she still managed to utter fragmented syllables.
"No, no, i-mpor-tant..."
A flicker of blankness crossed his face. He choked back a brief sob, as if trying to laugh, but his face contorted with profound anguish, his eyes darkening with a malevolent fury.
He said, "Very well, it truly isn't important. You are dead, and those promises are void. I will marry someone else. Do you remember Miss Yun from Xuzhou? She is quite suitable."
The potent smell of blood filled his nostrils. His thoughts in disarray, he couldn't control what he was saying. He was desperately trying to keep her alive.
So, the words tumbled out before his mind could process them.
"Are you going to watch me marry someone else?"
If you stay, there will be no one else.
His eyes were bloodshot. Though he appeared to hold the power, he was pleading with a desperate humility.
Burning tears welled from his eyes and fell onto the maiden's face, smearing large patches of water.
He didn't even notice he was crying. He opened his mouth to speak, but only an suppressed sob escaped his throat.
"Stay, and I won't want anyone else."
The maiden's breath grew increasingly faint, her breathing shallow. Blood continued to flow, and she was dying.
Before her death, her last words were spoken.
She said, "But, I don't want you anymore."
In that instant, his heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest and plummeted into a bottomless abyss, shattering into a thousand pieces.
The maiden's eyes closed.
An bone-chilling cold spread through his limbs and crawled up his spine to his scalp. He felt as if he had plunged into an icy cavern, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.
"Your Highness."
At first, he called out softly, his voice gentle, as if waking a child from a nap. He even held his breath instinctively.
The only response was the profound silence of the hall.
That stillness was a form of slow torture. Veins bulged on his forehead and neck, a burning red that seared his eyes. His throat felt as if it were blocked by a piece of flesh.
"Your Highness..."
From a tender whisper, his voice escalated into a heart-wrenching, collapsing roar.
"Shen Yue!"
"Shen Yue, you can't leave me, Shen Yue, don't abandon me, don't abandon me..."
He gritted his teeth, tasting blood, and lowered his head, pressing his face against Shen Yue's chest, where there was no longer any heartbeat.
Then, a torrent of agony swept over him, and he could no longer suppress the choked sobs in his throat. The thread in his mind snapped completely.
As if driven mad, he tightly embraced the person in his arms, his face still pressed against her chest, his voice trembling with a ceaseless plea, each cry more desolate than the last, "I was wrong! I was wrong!"
"Don't leave me, I don't want anyone else. I lied to you. I never wanted anyone else." Tears streamed uncontrollably. A low, trembling sob, like an echo from a valley, emanated from his chest. "Don't do this to me, don't, don't..."
The person in his arms had forever closed her eyes, her body growing colder and colder. She would never respond to him again.
Just as she had said.
She didn't want him anymore.
"Fool, idiot."
His voice was low and hoarse, tinged with a heartbreaking tremble. His head hung low, his disheveled black hair swaying in the wind, obscuring his expression.
His eyes were moist, his gaze fiercely red.
He let out a desperate, wild laugh, a sharp, piercing sound filled with an inexplicable despair.
His laughter echoed through the empty hall, its sound carrying far into the distance.
His mad, frenzied appearance was a stark contrast to the elegant Cheng Qian Gong, making them seem like two different people.
He was in so much pain that he wished he could tear out his own heart. Perhaps then, without a heart, the pain would cease.
His vision flickered, the taste of blood in his throat grew stronger, and he could no longer hold back. He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood.
Before he lost consciousness, he was still tightly clutching the person in his arms, never letting go.
---
Warm sunlight filtered through the lush, tender green leaves, casting a golden dappled shadow on the ground.
A small, fair, and beautiful figure sat on a tree, weeping silently. Her beautiful dark eyes were filled with tears. She was terrified of heights and dared not look down.
Until a clear, young boy's voice reached her.
"Fourth Highness, what are you doing up there?"
Trembling, she lowered her head. A white-clad boy had appeared beneath the tree, his features as refined as jade. He looked up at her, his handsome, elegant face etched with confusion.
Nervously clutching the hem of her clothes, she spoke with a childish lilt, "It's so high, I'm afraid to come down."
Her eyes reddened further.
The boy's eyes softened, and he broke into a gentle smile. He opened his arms, his clear eyes reflecting the figure on the branch.
"Your Highness, jump down. I will catch you."
She was still a little frightened, but the boy was so gentle that he dispelled her fear, and so she jumped.
The boy watched her descend like a fragile, beautiful butterfly into his arms, soft and small.
Still afraid, she kept her eyes shut tight. Only when she landed in the boy's warm embrace did she dare to open them and look up. Her dark eyes were bright, filled with adoration and joy.
Her voice was clear and sweet.
"Qian Gong Gege!"
---
Cheng Qian Gong did not survive the winter. He coughed up blood daily, his features shadowed by a pervasive aura of death.
On the last day of winter solstice, the sun finally emerged.
Lying on his bed, he could no longer get up. He struggled to turn over and gazed out the window at the bright sunlight, reminiscent of his first meeting with the maiden.
The maiden tugged at his sleeve, full of affection, "Qian Gong Gege, Qian Gong Gege."
She was calling him.
Filled with youthful ambition and joy, he had betrayed a heart full of genuine affection.
When he finally wished to turn back, that person was long gone. She no longer wanted him.
He coughed up more blood, clots blocking his windpipe.
His vision grew increasingly blurred, a sense of suffocation overwhelming him.
In this life, he had wronged no one, disappointed no expectations, save for her.
If there were a next life, he wished to be a towering ancient tree in Shen Yue's courtyard.
When it was cold, he would shield her from the wind and rain.
When it was hot, he would provide shade and a cooling breeze.
Perhaps, if he were luckier, Shen Yue would climb onto him to play, frolicking on his branches, carefree and full of joy.
That would be enough.
---
On the third day of the second month of Yuan Chu Year Five, Shen Yao Jin ascended the throne, changing the era name to Shu Shu.
Huo Dao plotted rebellion, but Shen Yao Jin had long been aware and had set a trap. Huo Dao was defeated.
This Huo Dao was like a berserk beast, biting at anyone he encountered, his body exuding a strong scent of blood, as if he had crawled out of a corpse.
Innumerable guards surrounded him.
The man, clad in black, left bloody footprints with every step.
His deep-set eyes were blood-red, like a sky full of fireworks, radiating a profound, abyssal danger, akin to a demon from hell.
His expression was one of near madness.
Huo Dao asked softly, "She is dead, why are you still alive?"
"You should be down there with her."
"She would be happy."
Each word, each syllable, was laced with obsession and stubbornness.
After becoming emperor, Shen Yao Jin was extremely busy, with no time to spare.
His voice was low and hoarse, tinged with a heartbreaking tremble. His head hung low, his disheveled black hair swaying in the wind, obscuring his expression.
His eyes were moist, his gaze fiercely red.
He let out a desperate, wild laugh, a sharp, piercing sound filled with an inexplicable despair.
His laughter echoed through the empty hall, its sound carrying far into the distance.
His mad, frenzied appearance was a stark contrast to the elegant Cheng Qian Gong, making them seem like two different people.
He was in so much pain that he wished he could tear out his own heart. Perhaps then, without a heart, the pain would cease.
His vision flickered, the taste of blood in his throat grew stronger, and he could no longer hold back. He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood.
Before he lost consciousness, he was still tightly clutching the person in his arms, never letting go.
---
Warm sunlight filtered through the lush, tender green leaves, casting a golden dappled shadow on the ground.
A small, fair, and beautiful figure sat on a tree, weeping silently. Her beautiful dark eyes were filled with tears. She was terrified of heights and dared not look down.
Until a clear, young boy's voice reached her.
"Fourth Highness, what are you doing up there?"
Trembling, she lowered her head. A white-clad boy had appeared beneath the tree, his features as refined as jade. He looked up at her, his handsome, elegant face etched with confusion.
Nervously clutching the hem of her clothes, she spoke with a childish lilt, "It's so high, I'm afraid to come down."
Her eyes reddened further.
The boy's eyes softened, and he broke into a gentle smile. He opened his arms, his clear eyes reflecting the figure on the branch.
"Your Highness, jump down. I will catch you."
She was still a little frightened, but the boy was so gentle that he dispelled her fear, and so she jumped.
The boy watched her descend like a fragile, beautiful butterfly into his arms, soft and small.
Still afraid, she kept her eyes shut tight. Only when she landed in the boy's warm embrace did she dare to open them and look up. Her dark eyes were bright, filled with adoration and joy.
Her voice was clear and sweet.
"Qian Gong Gege!"
---
Cheng Qian Gong did not survive the winter. He coughed up blood daily, his features shadowed by a pervasive aura of death.
On the last day of winter solstice, the sun finally emerged.
Lying on his bed, he could no longer get up. He struggled to turn over and gazed out the window at the bright sunlight, reminiscent of his first meeting with the maiden.
The maiden tugged at his sleeve, full of affection, "Qian Gong Gege, Qian Gong Gege."
She was calling him.
Filled with youthful ambition and joy, he had betrayed a heart full of genuine affection.
When he finally wished to turn back, that person was long gone. She no longer wanted him.
He coughed up more blood, clots blocking his windpipe.
His vision grew increasingly blurred, a sense of suffocation overwhelming him.
In this life, he had wronged no one, disappointed no expectations, save for her.
If there were a next life, he wished to be a towering ancient tree in Shen Yue's courtyard.
When it was cold, he would shield her from the wind and rain.
When it was hot, he would provide shade and a cooling breeze.
Perhaps, if he were luckier, Shen Yue would climb onto him to play, frolicking on his branches, carefree and full of joy.
That would be enough.
---
On the third day of the second month of Yuan Chu Year Five, Shen Yao Jin ascended the throne, changing the era name to Shu Shu.
Huo Dao plotted rebellion, but Shen Yao Jin had long been aware and had set a trap. Huo Dao was defeated.
This Huo Dao was like a berserk beast, biting at anyone he encountered, his body exuding a strong scent of blood, as if he had crawled out of a corpse.
Innumerable guards surrounded him.
The man, clad in black, left bloody footprints with every step.
His deep-set eyes were blood-red, like a sky full of fireworks, radiating a profound, abyssal danger, akin to a demon from hell.
His expression was one of near madness.
Huo Dao asked softly, "She is dead, why are you still alive?"
"You should be down there with her."
"She would be happy."
Each word, each syllable, was laced with obsession and stubbornness.
After becoming emperor, Shen Yao Jin was extremely busy, with no time to spare.
Perhaps, if he were luckier, Shen Yue would climb onto him to play, frolicking on his branches, carefree and full of joy.
That would be enough.
---
On the third day of the second month of Yuan Chu Year Five, Shen Yao Jin ascended the throne, changing the era name to Shu Shu.
Huo Dao plotted rebellion, but Shen Yao Jin had long been aware and had set a trap. Huo Dao was defeated.
This Huo Dao was like a berserk beast, biting at anyone he encountered, his body exuding a strong scent of blood, as if he had crawled out of a corpse.
Innumerable guards surrounded him.
The man, clad in black, left bloody footprints with every step.
His deep-set eyes were blood-red, like a sky full of fireworks, radiating a profound, abyssal danger, akin to a demon from hell.
His expression was one of near madness.
Huo Dao asked softly, "She is dead, why are you still alive?"
"You should be down there with her."
"She would be happy."
Each word, each syllable, was laced with obsession and stubbornness.
After becoming emperor, Shen Yao Jin was extremely busy, with no time to spare.