Snow blanketed the palace like a silken shroud. The corridors whispered with the chill of stillness, and the air itself felt carved from frost.
Xiu Zhao walked slowly through the long corridors, the sound of his own footsteps swallowed by silence.
He was searching for the library, though perhaps, deep down, he sought something books would never be able to give him.
Outside, through the fogged windows, he saw warriors training in the snow. The steam of their breaths mingled with the mist, and the sound of blades slicing the air echoed like a distant hymn.
Xiu Zhao stopped for a moment, watching. There was strength in those movements, but also solitude — the same that weighed within him.
After wandering for some time, he found the library. The doors were tall, carved with dragons and frozen flowers. When he opened them, the air inside smelled of old paper, incense, and time.
He ran his fingers along the spines of books until he stopped before a shelf about cultivation and spiritual cores. He pulled out a few volumes and sat by the window, where the cold light filtered through the curtains.
He read in silence, turning page after page, until frustration began to burn in his chest.
"It's impossible for an ordinary person…"
"If a cultivator removes his core, he will only…"
The words felt hollow — broken promises of unreachable power.
"Forgive the interruption," said a soft voice.
A young maid stood at the door, bowing respectfully. "His Majesty awaits you in his chambers."
Xiu Zhao lifted his eyes from the book, his gaze distant. He thought of refusing — but knew that if he did, another messenger would come.
"Of course," he replied at last, closing the volume calmly. "Please, show me the way."
She led him through the frozen corridors, their steps almost soundless upon the stone floor.
When they reached the Emperor's chambers, Xiu Zhao noticed the lantern light reflecting on a long table. Many were gathered there — the Emperor, the Empress, Hua Xu, and a few members of the court whom the young man recognized from afar.
He sat beside Hua Xu. Silence lasted only an instant before the stares began.
"What an insolent boy," whispered a woman in an elegant hanfu.
Xiu Zhao lifted his face, his gaze sharp.
"Why don't you say that to my face?"
The woman glared, offended.
"Who are you? Were you raised by beasts to know no respect?"
"Since when does the opinion of a concubine matter?" he replied, his voice cold and proud. "Especially one so lacking in sense as you."
The woman fell silent, and the Empress barely managed to suppress the laughter rising to her lips.
Then Xiu Zhao's eyes stopped on another young man — slightly older, watching him quietly.
"So he's the one who followed me all day…" he thought.
The young man quickly looked away, his cheeks tinged with pink.
"Father," asked one of the princes respectfully, "who is this young man?"
"He is the youth from the imperial court," the Emperor answered, and a murmur of surprise rippled through the table.
"Impossible!" another prince exclaimed. "He's just a child!"
Xiu Zhao rested his chin on his hand, his gaze cold.
"If I'm a child, that hardly matters. What's important is that you learn not to meddle with me."
The Emperor laughed, his voice echoing through the hall.
Irritated, Xiu Zhao rose and walked toward the door, but before leaving, he stopped.
"If King Chao arrives early tomorrow," he said seriously, "tell me. I have matters to discuss with you both."
And he left the room, silence following him like a shadow.
…
Back in his chamber, the cold greeted him like an old acquaintance.
Xiu Zhao removed his boots, sat on the bed, and took a small folded paper from within his hanfu.
He opened it carefully. The words written there, in Chen Yi's light and steady handwriting, still carried the faint scent of the past.
A soft smile curved his lips.
"Light…" he murmured. "I was your light."
The memories came like wind — slow, painful, and beautiful.
It was night when Chen Yi, after two days of cultivation, called him to his room.
The two sat together on the bed, the silence between them thick as snow.
Neither knew how to begin.
Xiu Zhao looked down at his fingers and asked in a low voice:
"Chen… why do you call me your light?"
"Because you are," Chen Yi replied, smiling.
"But I—"
Chen Yi lifted his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.
"No buts, Xiu Zhao. You are my light because I say you are. You made me feel safe… you pulled me out of loneliness. Every time you smiled, every small gesture of yours awakened something in me I thought had died."
The words struck deep. Tears glimmered in Xiu Zhao's eyes, his cheeks flushed with the warmth of the moment.
"Thank you, Xiu Zhao," Chen Yi said, embracing him tightly. "Without you, I would never have found happiness again."
"Light…" Xiu Zhao repeated now, lying down, staring at the ceiling. A sad smile crossed his face.
"How could you say that to me, Chen… People see me as a monster. As someone unworthy of being anything to anyone."
He closed his eyes.
"If you knew who I really am… a soul trapped in its own shadow, seeing only darkness wherever I go… how could I ever be your light?"
His voice broke, yet he continued, whispering:
"A color as pure as yours shouldn't have stayed by my side for so long. But you did… You were the hope I most longed for in this world. Now you are my proof that there's still something pure left in me. I'm glad it was you, Chen Yi. I'm glad this cruel world gave me something I can call home."
He laughed softly through his tears.
"I wish I could tell you just how much I love you."
The tears slid silently down the young prince's face. He imagined Chen Yi there beside him and whispered weakly:
"I love you too, my love."
In the quiet of his room, Chen Yi sat in lotus position, breathing slowly. He returned to cultivation, his body surrounded by a serene golden aura.
Xiu Zhao, falling asleep with his lover's letter upon his chest, drifted into dreams where love and longing mingled with light.
...
At dawn, someone knocked at the door of the chamber where Xiu Zhao rested.
He opened his eyes slowly, already sensing the reason for the visit. Rising in silence, he adjusted his robes and left the room. Outside, a maid awaited him — serious, still as a statue. Without a word, Xiu Zhao merely nodded and began to follow her through the long corridors of the palace.
As they walked, something caught his attention — a strange whisper, a sudden chill. He stopped, scanning both sides of the corridor. A faint smile curved his lips.
The maid, realizing he had stopped, turned with confusion.
"Did something happen, my lord?" she asked, hesitantly.
"No," he replied with a small smile, resuming his steps.
Soon they reached a vast hall. The maid opened the doors and bowed before stepping aside. Inside, gathered around a table filled with scrolls and tea, were Xiu Zhao's relatives, the imperial family, the emperor, and King Chao.
"Is this a joke to you, Lao?" asked King Chao, his voice thick with anger.
"No, this is far from a joke," Xiu Zhao replied, approaching the table. He gestured for the emperor to rise from the throne.
The emperor, confused, obeyed and sat beside a minister. Xiu Zhao took the throne with the bearing of an ancient sovereign — his gaze cold, his face serene, his presence pressing like steel upon everyone's shoulders.
"Shall we get down to business?" he said with an enigmatic smile that no one could decipher.
"What do you want, boy?" the king asked impatiently.
"I want to propose a deal."
"What kind of deal?" King Chao interrupted, irritated.
Xiu Zhao raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing.
"If you'd stop interrupting me, you'd know."
Silence fell like a blade.
"Excellent," he said, satisfied. "I want to be your sovereign."
The hall fell into stunned disbelief. The king and the ministers burst into laughter.
"You think this is a joke, Chao?" Xiu Zhao's voice was low and cutting — enough to silence every laugh in the room.
"What makes you think we'll accept that?" asked the emperor and the king in unison.
Xiu Zhao turned his gaze toward the entrance and smiled.
"No need to hide anymore, Dai Zhi."
A shadow descended from the ceiling, and a woman in black garments appeared before them. Her eyes met Xiu Zhao's.
"I thought you were dead. You haven't visited me in ages," he said with a cynical smile. "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise, young master," she replied seriously.
"Don't look at me like that — you seem one of those dreary people." He laughed, glancing toward a maid in the corner.
"I only… I'm sorry—"
"Shh, no need. What brings you here, Dai Zhi?"
"Your father."
"Yu Sheng," he corrected.
"The master asked me to deliver what you left behind." She placed a blue dagger on the table. "He said not to leave anything behind again."
"Tell him to burn the rest," murmured Xiu Zhao, examining the weapon calmly.
"I will inform… your father," she said with a faint smile before vanishing like a shadow.
The hall fell silent. Then came the whispers.
"He's Yu Sheng's son!"
"That's impossible!"
"Yu Sheng has no children…"
The murmurs grew until they became a low hum.
Tap, tap, tap — Xiu Zhao's finger struck the armrest of the throne, drawing their attention back.
"Do we have an agreement?" he asked, his cold gaze sweeping over the table.
"Of course," they all replied, terrified.
"What should we do?" asked King Chao, defeated.
"Nothing, except end this useless war. Draft a peace treaty. From now on, all kingdoms and empires will fall under my supervision. If you wish to form alliances, speak to me first. The rest… we'll see in time."
"And if we're attacked?" asked one of the ministers, tense.
Xiu Zhao sat back down.
"If you're attacked, don't ask anyone for help. If my strategies fail… I'll enter the battlefield myself."
Silence returned.
"Are you truly the son of the indomitable Yu Sheng?" asked a trembling prince.
"Mn," he replied, uninterested. "The meeting is over."
…
Days later, dawn brought a soft knock to his door. Xiu Zhao barely had time to react. He felt a sting at his neck — sharp, quick. When he touched his skin, he found a needle.
"Poison…" he muttered, staggering toward the mirror.
He set the dagger on the table, but his body could no longer resist. He collapsed, his head striking the wood hard. Two hooded figures emerged from the shadows, seized him, and vanished into the night.
When a maid entered minutes later, her scream echoed through the corridors. Guards rushed in. The blood on the table was enough to throw the palace into chaos.
"Your Majesty, we have a problem!" shouted a guard, kneeling before the king and the emperor.
"The sovereign… has disappeared!"
The hall descended into panic. Hua Xu was the first to run. When he entered the room, he could smell the metallic trace of blood.
"He was poisoned," he said darkly.
"Seal the gates!" ordered the emperor.
"It's no use," Hua Xu replied. "They used a teleportation formation. Only traces of spiritual energy remain. We must begin a search immediately."