Chapter Thirty-Five
The lotus pond was dotted with pink and pale yellow blossoms, shimmering like a dream against the backdrop of vermilion walls and emerald waters. The air was thick with the essence of summer.
Xia Jingshi stood by the pond with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes lightly closed, his expression serene yet solemn. For days, he had remained silent, his every movement still carrying the same composure as before. Yet when alone, he was more prone to losing himself in thought—just like now.
In his memory, there was also a cool palace embraced by lush trees and blooming flowers. During the scorching summers, his mother would often dine there with him. To the east of the palace lay a vast, jade-green pond, its waters stretching beyond sight. Upon it stood replicas of the three Immortal Mountains—Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou. Along the shore, over a hundred pavilions and towers gleamed with golden brilliance, surrounding and guarding Mingde Palace, where his mother resided. Everything bore the extravagant aura of a dream.
Many years ago, on a summer day much like this, his father and mother would often take a boat to admire the lotuses on the pond. His father was pale and refined, while his mother, with her delicate features, radiated charm with every smile and frown. And by his side, there had been a lovely companion, her laughter sweet and enchanting.
That was a name seared into his very soul—Raoran.
Originally, his study companion had been Lize, but when she suddenly fell gravely ill, Raoran emerged from the ranks of the maidservants and took her place behind him.
Love was like a trap concealed beneath a blanket of lush grass and flowers. Just as one was drawn in by its beauty, reaching out to pluck it, they would suddenly fall into the carefully laid snare, left to struggle in agony...
The young and tender-hearted Xia Jingshi had been unable to resist the allure Raoran deliberately displayed. Their love had blazed fiercely from the very beginning. He still remembered the moment she embraced him—her scent sweet and warm, her hands gliding over his trembling body like burning coals or ice, so familiar, so practiced. Then, the seductive glow on her face was abruptly replaced by surprise. He heard her soft whisper, "Your Highness... do you not want Raoran?" Stunned, he felt fine beads of sweat form on his brow as he watched her surprise shift into realization, then into a sly smile—before she pushed him away and slipped from his grasp.
Outside the window, thunder roared as Xia Jingshi drank alone in his chamber. The liquor burned down his throat, carrying with it the searing sting of disappointment. Before succumbing to drunkenness, he murmured a single, slurred word—"Raoran..."
When he jolted awake, it was already noon. Raindrops fell in a light, refreshing drizzle. Struggling to his feet, he reached for water, only to find the pitcher empty. Then he remembered—he had ordered that no one was to approach his courtyard for days.
Slowly, Xia Jingshi walked to the window. Leaning out, he opened his mouth, letting the faintly sweet raindrops land on his bitter tongue. Suddenly, tears welled up, streaming down his face with a force beyond his control, mingling with the rain as they trickled into his collar.
Then, a figure emerged before him. Through the damp, rain-laden air, the silhouette seemed even more piercing than sunlight. Only then did he realize—the ominous premonition he had first sensed was indeed a harbinger of misfortune.
"By the decree of the Empress, the Imperial Son Xia Jingshi is summoned for an audience."
He remembered following the two palace attendants through the winding paths of the deep palace, where flowers swayed and towering pavilions stood in grandeur. Their footsteps were light and secretive. His heart pounded violently, his vision blurring as if he could no longer bear the sight of this solemn, opulent imperial family.The Empress's bedchamber was brightly lit as day, with silver candles and palace lanterns casting their glow. A woman reclined lazily on the phoenix-adorned couch amidst them.
The Empress was sipping tea, a strange, delicate fragrance wafting from the small cup in her hand. She seemed not to hear the attendant’s announcement, nor did she spare a glance at Xia Jingshi, who knelt in greeting.
“Do you know why I summoned you here?” After a long silence, the Empress finally set down her porcelain cup and turned to scrutinize Xia Jingshi. He shook his head, but he heard the attendants quietly withdrawing from the chamber.
“Rise. I wish for you to meet someone,” the Empress said, her languid, indifferent eyes suddenly burning with an intense light.
Familiar light footsteps sounded behind him. He refused to turn, silently pleading—not her, not her, please don’t let it be her. Yet—
“This humble woman, Raoran, pays respects to the Empress and the Imperial Son.”
“Why are you here?” he asked numbly. “I haven’t seen you in days. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Raoran, rise and speak,” the Empress chuckled. Raoran’s expression remained unchanged—that same timid, bashful smile as she gracefully stood.
Her smile stabbed at Xia Jingshi’s eyes like a dagger. Raoran had been a dazzling, scorching dream to him. No matter how beautiful, one must still wake.
“Was your love for me all a lie?” His face was eerily still, his lips drained of color.
“Love?” Raoran covered her lips with a laugh. “This must be the greatest joke in the history of courtesans—at least in the last few centuries.”
Courtesan. Whore.
His gaze fixed on empty air as he sneered coldly. “What a waste that you became a whore. You should have been an actress.”
Raoran smiled sweetly. “Raoran was first an actress, then a whore. How else could I have performed such convincing affection before the Imperial Son, making him fall for me, only to withdraw unscathed in the end?”
“I gave you my heart—why deceive me?!” His anger finally erupted.
“Has the Imperial Son never heard—whores have no love, actors no loyalty? Did you truly think a brothel girl would believe in vows of eternal devotion? Heh, those are just lines from a play. The longest-lasting love in this world is no love at all,” Raoran said softly, her laughter delicate, yet every word a blade.
“It was I who arranged for her to ‘attend’ to you. I had planned to use her later, but who could have guessed—it would turn out like this.” The Empress suddenly burst into wild laughter. “Xia Jingshi, you were never meant to inherit the throne. You were always destined to remain a prince—ha ha ha!”
Xia Jingshi’s teeth ground audibly. Cold sweat streamed into his eyes, the sting failing to make him blink. His unfocused gaze held no pain—only emptiness, a hollow void.
The Empress slowly sat up. Raoran obediently stepped forward to adjust her pillows, then gently massaged her shoulders. “I give you two choices. First, you may publicly renounce your claim to the throne. I promise to keep this secret for you. Second—” She chuckled. “I will summon the imperial physicians at once, announce their findings to the court, and let the Holy Emperor and his ministers decide your fate. Well?”
Xia Jingshi lowered his gaze and replied flatly, “I withdraw.”"Hahahaha, truly unexpected, how pitiful..." The Empress burst into laughter. "Xia Jingshi, I overestimated you in vain, you wretched creature!!!" Rǎorǎn also joined in with a tinkling laugh.
Xia Jingshi stared woodenly at the two women laughing heartily—no, two venomous snakes whose fangs had sunk deep into his heart, never to be pulled out again.
Finally done laughing, the Empress slowly rose and approached him, her long train dragging behind. Her watery phoenix eyes glanced at him coquettishly. "It's time for this palace to fulfill its promise," she said, signaling Rǎorǎn to step closer. "Would you be willing to follow him for life?"
Rǎorǎn chuckled lightly. "The Empress jests. If I were to return with the Imperial Son, he would surely flay me alive." The Empress nodded thoughtfully. "A fair point. Then—" Suddenly, the warmth in her phoenix eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling murderous intent. Before Rǎorǎn could react, a sharp dagger slipped silently from the Empress's wide sleeve and plunged deep into her abdomen. "You—cannot—stay!"
Rǎorǎn's mouth gaped half-open, her throat gurgling as her eyes bulged in disbelief at the Empress. Her hands clutched the Empress's wrist desperately, trying to push the dagger out, but the hand holding it merely twisted slightly, sapping her of all strength.
"Save... me..." Her pleading gaze turned to Xia Jingshi, who stood frozen in shock. A bloodied hand stretched toward him. "Save me... please..."
Xia Jingshi instinctively stepped forward to catch her. "What?" The Empress's phoenix eyes gleamed with cold amusement, her grip unrelenting. "Do you wish for her to carry this secret out of the palace, back to those pleasure quarters, and regale the world with it over drinks?" His movement halted abruptly.
"Since you've been so obedient, this palace shall teach you a lesson—love is both a bond and a shackle. In this life, once you've been touched by affection or stirred by desire, you are already flawed. Thus, you are no longer perfect." She smiled, her eyes devoid of warmth. "You are indeed exceptional. A pity you were born to the wrong womb. Had you been this palace's son, the title of Holy Emperor would have been yours without question!"
Under Xia Jingshi's dazed gaze, the Empress gracefully stepped back. Rǎorǎn's body crumpled to the ground, twitching faintly as she struggled to crawl toward the palace doors, leaving a thick trail of blood behind.
With a mocking smile, the Empress followed Rǎorǎn's slow, laborious crawl toward the exit, softly encouraging her. "Almost there. If you can make it out, this palace might consider sparing your life..." Suddenly, Xia Jingshi strode forward and extended his hand to the Empress. "Give it to me." She glanced at him in mild surprise but handed him the bloodied dagger.
Xia Jingshi knelt slowly beside Rǎorǎn and whispered, "Close your eyes. Don't look."
The thin blade glided across Rǎorǎn's neck, splitting flesh as a torrent of blood gushed forth. Gradually, her body stilled. On the polished stone floor, the winding trail of blood stopped twenty paces from the palace doors.
A single crimson drop trembled at the tip of the dagger in Xia Jingshi's unsteady hand.
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