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 Fei entered the Imperial Palace Court Hall with the severed head of Long Yan wrapped neatly in silk. Though physically light, the burden felt like a stone pressing relentlessly against his chest. Each step echoed in his ears as he made his way down the red wood corridor. This was not for his glory, but to protect those he had come to care for. He forced himself to walk with pride.
The Emperor awaited him in the grand hall, his eyes sharp and calculating as always. The moment the Crown Prince entered, silence settled over the courtroom. The officials parted, bowing as he passed, their gazes flickering between the bloodied parcel and the warrior who bore it.
He did not meet their eyes. His gaze was fixed ahead, determined yet somber. He approached the throne, kneeling before his father and offering up the severed head. "Your Majesty," he said steadily, even as his mind swirled with conflicting emotions. "Long Yan has been executed for treason as per your order."
The Head Eunuch promptly took the bloodied silk parcel from the Crown Prince and showed it to the Emperor for closer inspection, who flicked his fingers to get it out of sight. His eyes flickered with satisfaction, though his face remained solemn. He studied his son for a long moment, as though searching for something beneath the surface. The officials exchanged whispers, their awe mixed with fear.
His father's gaze softened as he looked at him, his pride evident. "You have done well, Fei'er. Your decisiveness in this matter will not go unnoticed. The traitor has been dealt with swiftly, and the kingdom owes you a great debt."
Long Fei remained silent, his chest tightening as the praise washed over him. It felt hollow, playing a role he had not chosen. Yet he knew that claiming credit for Long Yan's death was the only way to shield Shui Yi and Ling Yue from scrutiny.
"Your injuries..." The Emperor's gaze shifted to his battered form, the bruises and cuts that marred his once-pristine appearance. "Summon the Imperial Physician at once."
The Crown Prince kept his head down, not trusting himself to speak. His conscience had plagued him. As his father issued orders for his injuries to be tended, he was excused from court and ushered back to his chamber.
***
In the privacy of his chamber, Long Fei sat in the middle of the room. The Imperial Physician carefully peeled off the prince's upper garments and wiped dried blood from his chest. As he sutured large open cuts near the ribs, he inserted needles at specific meridian points on the prince's back and shoulders to ease the pain. Once the wounds were bandaged, the physician continued the treatment with acupuncture, gently placing additional needles to promote healing.
All the prince could think about was the moment when Shui Yi had blood splattered across her face as she had ended Long Yan's life. This was a hollow victory, he was taking credit for her actions. He had just sat there, frozen, watching as she did the unthinkable to protect him. He struck his chest, head lowered in shame.
The doctor jolted and bowed. "Your Highness, please stay still and not injure yourself any further. The needles have not been removed yet."
The prince absentmindedly nodded. Why did he assume that she needed his help? She clearly showed signs of hidden skill by the way she rode his stallion. Ling Yue on the other hand, was extraordinarily skilled and never hid it. If they were legendary companions, Shui Yi would almost certainly have learned something from her. How could his judgment be so clouded? She had become far more lethal to him than anyone else.
He shook his head, jaw clenched. When she had turned to him, her face softened with concern—but he recoiled, afraid of what she had become. He could still see her bloodied face, her confused expression seared into his memory the moment he turned away. The guilt gnawed at him. What had he been thinking?
He should have thanked her for saving his life. Instead, he walked away like a coward. His jaw tightened. He tapped himself on the head, trying to expel this embarrassing memory. He had been protecting the borders for the past few years, yet he couldn't protect her?! The memory of him turning away, her face faltering with hurt, stung more than any physical wounds.
He dismissed the Imperial Physician. The man froze for a heartbeat, then swiftly removed the needles from the prince's back, packed up his kit, and bowed before hurrying out. He needed solitude.
Long Fei took the jade flute from its resting place. He brought the cool jade to his lips and filled the room with soft notes. The song was Shui Yi's melody, her voice trapped in the music. The sound resonated within him, calming his thoughts, yet only deepening the turmoil. The way she skillfully moved in battle as if the blade was an extension of herself, still haunted him. She had surprised him with her healing power, her horse riding, and now her swordsmanship. What did it mean for him to be afraid of her?
He had never been afraid of anyone. He was a warrior, a protector, the Crown Prince. But when he saw her wield the power to kill, it terrified him. For the first time in his life, he wished he were not the Crown Prince, wished he were just an ordinary man who could embrace her, thank her, and acknowledge her strength. He still could not believe he had turned away like a coward. He paused the music as his thoughts spiraled. He cursed himself, his grip tightening on the flute. What had he done?
A scent of floral perfume filled the chamber, breaking his spiral of thoughts. His back stiffened, his heart raced, and confusion flooded him. Could Shui Yi have snuck into the palace?
He slowly turned, the faintest hope flaring in his chest, only to find himself face-to-face with his mother, Zhen Hua. The blood drained from his face.
She gazed at him tenderly and smiled sweetly, sending a chill down his spine.
Long Fei immediately wrapped a cloak over himself, grimacing as he dressed quickly. "Mother, I'm a grown man now, it's highly inappropriate for you to be in my chamber alone," he gasped.
"I heard you sent the Imperial Physician away, I thought I should tend to your wound if you won't let him," Zhen Hua stepped closer to him.
"I'm fine, Mother. There's no need for you to be here," he raised his hands, motioning for her to keep her distance.
Her smile vanished and her eyes hardened. "It's that silver-haired woman, isn't it? I'm in the process of selecting the Crown Princess, she will not be eligible."
"Shui Yi healed you. She saved your life—"
"With witchcraft," his mother cut him off. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. Her hands clenched in fists by her side. She slowly approached him.
He had never seen her this upset before. The hair on the back of his neck stood.
"Sorry Mother, I have to go." He flung the window open and leapt out.