CONTENT WARNING
This chapter contains themes that some readers may find sensitive or unsettling, including complex family dynamics and taboo implications. These elements are integral to the plot and are portrayed as morally conflicted and taboo within the story's world. They are not endorsed or romanticized. Please proceed with care, and feel free to skip if this content is distressing. Your well-being is important. Thank you for engaging with the story thoughtfully.
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Long Yan had never imagined Long Fei would show no mercy towards Zhen Hua. He had sparred with his Elder Brother many times before, never once sustaining serious injury. His perfect Elder Brother had always been too infuriatingly kind to hurt him.
Yet the reckoning they just faced was beyond their imagination. Unleashing the Dragon of Air's wrath must have taken a toll on Elder Brother. Without a doubt, he would shortly enter the Mortal Realm to recover.
Long Yan waited behind her at the Divine Portal, watching closely as she approached the keeper. When the portal keeper had his back turned, he watched the Phoenix Empress evaporate her Amnesia Elixir. Then, while pretending to drink his own, he surreptitiously poured the vial into the hidden storage dimension sewn into his long sleeve.
Long Fei had his robes tailored with that special feature. Elder Brother would be mortified if he knew his gift was being used this way. With a smirk, Long Yan held up the empty vial to the portal keeper, who nodded without suspicion.
The portal flared to life.
With one final breath, he stepped through the portal.
***
The world went dark. Then Long Yan's eyes fluttered open.
Cold air stung his tiny baby face as he found himself securely snug in the finest fox fur swaddling clothes on a servant's back.
The crack of a whip rang out as the servant urged a pack of wolves pulling the sled through the snow.
"Where am I?" Long Yan murmured.
The servant glanced around, then shrugged and faced forward. Arrows whistled past them.
Fate was cruel to start his life on the run. But at least he hadn't drunk the Amnesia Elixir. With his memories intact, he could still save himself, even in a baby's body.
Another arrow streaked toward his head, and he leaned aside. It narrowly missed him and pierced through the servant's neck. The dead servant slumped forward.
With a surge of residual inner energy carried over from his past life, Long Yan's tiny hands seized the reins, and he flung himself onto one of the wolves.
He lived among the wolves until he was old enough to search for civilization.
***
Many years later, Long Yan heard Zhen Hua's name mentioned by a passing merchant. Her name had spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom. Her rise was meteoric, a testament to power seized from the jaws of fate.
Having witnessed the rise and fall of countless dynasties, he knew all too well that power, especially the kind she wielded, was fragile. It required careful tending, delicate manipulation, and, above all, unwavering loyalty.
He would be one of those loyal hands.
When Long Yan first arrived in the capital, he did not rush to present himself. Unlike the ambitious noblemen who scrambled to ingratiate themselves with her, he chose a more measured approach. Power was not taken by begging for favor. It was earned through patience, observation, and calculated action. So he remained unseen, moving like a whisper through the Imperial Palace, watching as shadows stretched long over lacquered red wood corridors, listening as murmurs of treachery slithered through silken veils.
Zhen Hua's enemies circled like wolves scenting blood, their hunger disguised by honeyed words and perfumed robes. Court factions swelled with discontent; ministers whispered behind embroidered sleeves, and concubines weaved their schemes, each vying for a glimpse of the Emperor's favor. The palace was a battlefield where sharpened words cut deeper than any blade.
Zhen Hua was no fool: she knew the price of power and that even with the Emperor's favor, her throne was precarious. But where others saw threats, Long Yan saw opportunities. He understood what she needed: not just a protector, but a shadow that worked unseen, a silent hand that crushed threats before they could bloom.
His path to the palace was not one of open declaration but of quiet infiltration. He had no desire to be just another noble in her court. No, he wanted to be by her side. So, he chose the role of the unseen: the Imperial Guard — a position that would prove pivotal when her plan came to fruition.
The role of the Imperial Guard was more than that of a mere soldier. He could listen without suspicion, move without question, and kill without consequence to protect the Imperial family. It was a position of proximity, power hidden beneath servitude; a silent sentinel watching, waiting, and striking when necessary.
For months, he immersed himself in the undercurrents of court life. He learned the power struggles, the shifting alliances, the ambitions disguised as devotion. He memorized the faces of those who smiled too easily, their lips curved with deceit.
He listened intently to rumors of generals plotting in the barracks, concubines whispering in the dark corridors, and ministers waiting for a single misstep to rip the crown from beneath Zhen Hua. He was there to ensure it would never happen.
Her mind was sharp as a blade, but even the sharpest weapons needed a hand to wield it. Long Yan was that hand. He moved in the shadows, ensuring threats never reached her. He was the one who silenced the voices that spoke too loudly, delivered messages that could never be written, and ensured her reign remained untouchable. He longed to stand beside her, not as a shadow but as her lover, protecting her out of devotion rather than duty. Then came the news that broke him. Zhen Hua was expecting a son.
The announcement was made with all the grandeur befitting an imperial heir. The court erupted in celebration, ministers and generals alike swearing their allegiance to the future Emperor. But for Long Yan, the words were a dagger to his heart.
He clenched his fists as others rejoiced. He had always known she would use this tactic; she had used it before, back when she rose as the Phoenix Empress. Even in the Mortal Realm, the pattern remained. And yet, the knowledge did not soften the blow. The thought of her with another man ignited something dark within him.
But he could not afford jealousy. Assassinating the Emperor now would foil both their plans. Zhen Hua wanted Long Fei's reincarnation to ascend the throne. But Long Yan had other plans: he would assassinate his brother and the current Emperor. Only then could he be openly by her side. He was born with royal blood in this new life and narrowly escaped assassination as a baby.
He forced his emotions into silence, burying them beneath the mask of a loyal servant. This child was not just a symbol of her power; it was a shield, an anchor that would secure her future. If this was what she needed to win, then he would accept it. For he had sworn a blood oath to stand by her side when all others fell away. To be her blade in the darkness, her shield against betrayal. And he would keep that vow. No matter the cost.
Even if it meant watching the woman he loved bear another man's child.
***
In the Empress' chamber, a midwife's sorrowful voice trembled through the air. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. The child… he is not breathing."
All servants bowed their heads in silence.
Then—a sharp gasp.
A wail, small and weak, yet alive.
The midwives staggered back, covering their mouths. The stillborn child, lifeless just moments ago, had begun to breathe.
Zhen Hua had held her baby's lifeless body and felt his cold skin. Yet now, as she gathered him into her trembling arms, his tiny chest rose and fell, fragile, but alive. Tears slipped down her face. She clutched him tightly, whispering, "Long Fei."
The boy cried, gasping for air. All he knew was warmth. A mother's embrace. The feeling of a world beginning anew.