The Prisoner of Beauty

The storm was brewing in the Shu region, and the windows were suddenly flung open by the fierce wind, slamming against the window frames with a sharp, clattering noise. The inkstone and paperweights on the desk had already been swept to the ground. The gale scattered the loose papers in all directions, leaving the area under the desk in disarray, with several memorials torn in half lying haphazardly on the floor.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of blood. In the pool of blood on the ground, four or five young women dressed in palace attire lay in disarray. One of them was not yet dead, her once beautiful eyes half-open and half-closed, her lips weakly moving as a string of bloody foam bubbled from the corner of her mouth, resembling a dying fish struggling in a pool of blood.

They were all consorts of Emperor Liu Yan. The youngest, Consort Liu, was only thirteen years old. Her father was the governor of Tianshui, and she had been hastily taken as a consort when Emperor Liu Yan retreated to Chencang. Less than half a year later, Chencang fell, and they fled with Emperor Liu Yan to this place, Baocheng in Shu.

But now, these young and beautiful women were all dead.

Just moments ago, Liu Yan had summoned these women and watched as his trusted eunuch, Liu Shan, killed them.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Spare me, spare me! My father will bring reinforcements to protect you! Your Majesty—"

Consort Liu's face was stained with blood, and her tears fell like broken pearls down her still childish, terrified face. The goose-yellow palace attire on her chest was soaked with blood from her neck, turning into a vivid and glaring orange-red.

Liu Shan had already slashed her neck once, but perhaps the blade had dulled from killing too many, and she managed to dodge it. The wound on her neck was not yet fatal. She fell to the ground, her head tilted to one side, blood gushing from her neck as she crawled forward on her hands and knees, trying to escape the room filled with the heavy stench of blood and the cold breath of death.

Behind her, a winding trail of blood marked her path.

Emperor Liu Yan's face was handsome, but his expression was as lifeless as a wooden statue. His eyes were not fixed on Consort Liu, who was pleading for her life, but instead gazed blankly over her head toward the city gates, which he could not actually see.

Baocheng could not hold either; it had fallen.

In his ears, he seemed to hear the deafening cheers of the rebel Yan soldiers as they breached the city. It wouldn't be long before they stormed this place.

Two years ago, the warlord Wei Shao, who had long held the northern regions of Yan and You for the Han dynasty, had defeated Xing Xun, who had declared himself emperor in Luoyang. With Luoyang in his hands, eight or nine out of the nine provinces of the realm had fallen under his control. The tide had turned, and the rebel Wei Shao declared himself emperor in Youzhou, establishing the state of Yan. Subsequently, Emperor Liu Yan was forced to retreat westward.

During this long retreat westward, the civil officials around him fled or scattered one by one, the military officers died or surrendered, and by the time he reached Baocheng, only a dozen or so old ministers loyal to the Han dynasty remained, still desperately protecting him.

Now, even these last two thousand soldiers were gone.

He had nowhere left to retreat.

Liu Shan's face was already splattered with blood, resembling a fierce ghost. He gritted his teeth and advanced toward Consort Liu, who was still pleading desperately. He cornered her at the door and slashed down from behind.With a dull "thud," the girl didn't even let out a cry. Her entire head hung limply to the side from its original position on her neck, twisted into an unnatural angle. Her soft body collapsed to the ground like a sack of flour, silent.

Warm blood gushed uncontrollably from her neck, splattering half the wall. Consort Liu's limbs twitched at first, but gradually, they stopped moving altogether, leaving only the eye peeking out from her disheveled hair still staring ahead. The life in her eyes quickly faded, replaced by a heavy, dark green hue of death.

"Your Majesty, the Empress..."

Liu Shan dragged the blade, its edge already chipped and still dripping with blood, and looked toward Xiao Qiao, who was trembling slightly on the bed.

Liu Yan slowly turned around, his unfocused gaze landing on Xiao Qiao. He stared at her, and his eyes, no longer vacant, gradually filled with sorrow, reluctance, and profound pain.

Step by step, he walked toward her until he stood right in front of her. His cold fingers caressed her face with longing, and suddenly, he pulled her tightly into his embrace. His grip was so strong, as if he wanted to crush her and embed her into his very flesh and blood.

"Manman! Manman! Your family was killed by the traitors of Wei, and your sister was deposed and died at their hands. I know you hate them to the core. I had intended to avenge you, to raise an army and punish the traitors, but the fate of the Han dynasty is sealed, and I am powerless to turn the tide. I cannot bear to let you fall into the hands of those traitors and suffer humiliation. Manman, I will kill you first, and then I will follow you. In our next life, let us be husband and wife again!"

"Your Majesty, I became your wife at fifteen. You have treated me with deep affection and unwavering loyalty. If you are to leave, how could I live on alone? I wish to follow you, through all lifetimes, never to be parted!"

The woman, whose childhood name was Manman, had skin as fair as snow and a face as flawless as jade. Though her complexion was now drained of color and her face streaked with tears, her gaze toward the Emperor was filled with determination and resolve.

She pushed Liu Yan away and stood up on her own, slowly closing her eyes and tilting her chin slightly upward. At that moment, the mountain breeze swept through her clothes, causing her robes and sash to dance wildly, making her appear as if she were about to take flight.

Liu Yan wept uncontrollably, releasing her and suddenly standing up. With a sharp "clang," he drew his long sword.

"Ah—"

With a heart-wrenching, piercing cry from Liu Yan, the cold blade plunged deeply into her warm and soft heart.