The journey from the ravaged Shen Imperial Palace to the Min Empire's capital was a blur of exhaustion and bewildering emotions for Shen Zhiyu. Carried securely in Min Yulin's powerful arm, with baby Min Haotian nestled against Yulin's other side, Zhiyu felt an odd sense of being disconnected from his own body. He watched the familiar Shen landscapes pass by, now guarded by the stoic, silver-armored soldiers of the Min Empire. His home, his kingdom, was no more. It had been subsumed, absorbed into the very empire that now protected him. The irony was stark, yet in his profound relief, it was almost a mercy.
Yulin remained largely silent throughout the journey, his face a mask of cold, unwavering focus. He rode at the head of his contingent, an imposing figure despite his youth, commanding respect through sheer force of presence. Zhiyu would occasionally catch a glimpse of Yulin's profile – the sharp, determined jawline, the piercing eyes that seemed to miss nothing. There was no softness, no warmth, but an undeniable strength. Zhiyu, battered and traumatized, found himself leaning into that strength, a silent anchor in a world turned upside down.
Haotian, however, was a constant, tiny source of unexpected warmth. The baby, often fussing softly, would frequently reach out, his small hand unerringly finding Zhiyu's sleeve or a stray lock of his hair. And with each gentle tug, each soft sigh, came the repeated, tender murmur: "Mama."
The first time it happened, Zhiyu had flinched, a sharp stab of grief for his own mother. But then he began to wonder why a baby he just met a few hours ago was so attached to him but Haotians big, innocent eyes fixed solely on Zhiyu's face made him stop questioning it. The baby, he was calling for the closest maternal presence, because the baby never had been close to any omega before as the one holding him secure was the only parental presence for him. Unfortunately he was an alpha.It was a heart-wrenching, yet profoundly comforting, realization. Haotian, unaware of the complex dynamics, had simply latched onto Zhiyu, mistaking his protective aura for that of a omega parent. And Zhiyu, who had lost everything, clung to this small, demanding life with a quiet desperation. He would rock Haotian gently, hum soft tunes his own mother used to sing, and watch with a flicker of something akin to peace as the baby drifted off to sleep, curled against him.
Yulin, despite his outward stoicism, did not miss these interactions. He would sometimes glance at Zhiyu and Haotian, a faint, almost imperceptible softening in his intense gaze. Yulin didn't know why he let Zhiyu carry Haotian in the first place when he wouldn't even let a wet nurse touch him because of his trust issues. He wondered why I trust him, is it because of that strong pull I felt when I first saw him. But even after all that he still rarely spoke to Zhiyu directly, his words limited to practical matters: "Are you comfortable?" "Do you need water?" But his actions spoke volumes. He ensured Zhiyu was given the best food and water available, that their makeshift camps were as secure and warm as possible. Once, when Zhiyu shivered in the chill night air, Yulin had silently draped his own heavy cloak over both Zhiyu and Haotian, without a word.
As they neared the Min Imperial Capital, the familiar dread began to creep back into Zhiyu's heart. He was entering a new cage, albeit a golden one. The palace, his new "home," was filled with people who were once strangers, now his reluctant protectors. He was an outsider, a conquered prince, an Omega. He knew the whispers would follow him, the accusations of weakness, the subtle contempt. He thought he was prepared for it, or so he thought.
The entry into the Min Imperial Palace was a grand, ceremonial affair, meant to signify the successful integration of the Shen Kingdom. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of curiosity. Zhiyu, still dressed in the ill-fitting, blood-stained red concubine robes, stood beside Yulin, clutching Haotian tightly. The sight of the stone-faced Crown Prince, carrying a baby and flanked by the fragile Omega prince of a fallen kingdom, was sure to spark immediate gossip.
He felt the gazes upon him as they walked through the throngs of courtiers and servants. The subtle shifts in expression, the barely concealed sneers, the judgmental whispers. He heard them, faint at first, then growing louder, bolder, carried on the breeze. "A whore." "A seductress." "He will surely weakened our Crown Prince." "Look at the way he clings to him!" The words were like tiny, poisonous darts, piercing his already wounded spirit. They spoke of the Crown Prince's "unseemly" attachment to him, saying he must have gotten very fond of the outsider prince in these passing days and how it undermined his authority. They blamed him, Shen Zhiyu, for supposedly seducing their crown prince and securing the post of the crown princess. Did they forget they were both kids one 8 and one 11 years old what were they even thinking.
Zhiyu's grip on Haotian tightened. He felt a wave of nausea, his hard-won composure threatening to shatter. He wanted to scream, to defend himself, to tell them of the horror he had endured, of the sheer injustice of their accusations. But he knew it was futile. They wouldn't listen. Their minds were already made up, poisoned by the machinations of Empress Han Zhenlan and her faction.
Suddenly, a shift in the atmosphere. The whispers died down, replaced by a sudden, terrifying silence. Zhiyu looked up, following the direction of the crowd's terrified gazes. Min Yulin.
Yulin's face, usually devoid of emotion, had taken on a chilling intensity. His eyes, fixed on the courtiers, were alight with a cold, terrifying fury that seemed to emanate from his very core. He had heard them. Every cutting word, every venomous whisper.
His hand, almost unconsciously, went to the hilt of his sword. A silent message, understood by everyone present. He began to walk, slowly, deliberately, towards the throng of assembled nobles and officials. His progress was like the advance of a silent storm. The courtiers, who moments ago had been so bold, now scrambled back, their faces paling, fear replacing their cruel arrogance.
One particularly brazen noble, a distant relative of Empress Han, dared to hold his ground, a sneer still lingering on his lips. "Crown Prince, control your... pet! His very presence sullies our palace or give him to me I will teach him one two things!" he spat, his eyes lingering inappropriately on Zhiyu and grinning like a fool.
Before the words had fully left the man's mouth, Yulin was there. Too fast to follow. A flash of steel. The man screamed, a high-pitched, agonizing sound. He staggered back, clutching his face, his hand now empty. Yulin's blade had been swift, precise. The man's tongue, still twitching, lay on the polished marble floor.
A collective gasp of horror and terror swept through the crowd. Yulin didn't stop. Another courtier, who had been openly leering at Zhiyu, made a move to flee. Yulin's sword flashed again, severing the man's hand before he could even take a step. The man fell, screaming, clutching the bleeding stump.
The chaos escalated. Yulin moved like a wraith, his eyes blazing, a silent, deadly avenger. He sought out those whose gazes had been filled with contempt, those whose words had been venomous, those who had dared to touch Zhiyu inappropriately during their earlier journey. His blade was merciless, cutting down not lives, but the instruments of their malice: tongues that spoke ill, hands that dared to touch, eyes that looked with inappropriate lust.
The screams were deafening. Empress Han's eldest son, Min Chengyou, a bloated, arrogant youth of seventeen, stumbled back, his face contorted in a mix of drunken confusion and terror. He had been among the loudest in mocking Zhiyu, his eyes often lingering with crude desire. Yulin's gaze locked onto him. Chengyou tried to run, but he was too slow, too consumed by panic. Yulin was upon him in an instant. A brutal, sickening thwack. Chengyou's scream was cut short as he fell, clutching his face. One eye, gouged out by Yulin's ruthless precision, lay on the ground. A moment later, his hand, which had once reached for Zhiyu in a mocking gesture, also met the same fate.
The Imperial Hall was plunged into a scene of unimaginable horror. Blood stained the pristine marble floors. The air was filled with screams, whimpers, and the pungent smell of fear of an 11 year old.
Emperor Min Tianyou finally arrived, bursting into the hall, followed closely by a horrified Empress Han Zhenlan and her other son, Min Cheng'an. The Emperor's face was ashen, his eyes wide with disbelief and dawning fury at the carnage. "Yulin! What is the meaning of this?! Stop this madness at once!" he roared, pointing at his disfigured eldest son.
Empress Han shrieked, rushing to Chengyou's side, her carefully maintained composure crumbling into raw maternal anguish. "My son! My beautiful son! Yulin, you animal! He's your brother!"
Yulin finally stopped, his sword dripping crimson, its tip resting on the polished floor. His chest heaved, not from exertion, but from a profound, deep-seated rage that finally seemed to find an outlet. His gaze was still fixed on the horrified faces of the Emperor and Empress. His eyes, usually so cold, were now alight with a wild, untamed expression. Actually he also didn't know why he reacted so strongly but the thought of someone touching no even dare looking at zhiyu inappropriately made his rage 10 fold. He knows he will kill anyone to protect zhiyu. He doesn't know the reason yet but he will.
And then, breaking yulins, thought Min Haotian, still clinging to Zhiyu, began to cry. Not a fussy cry, but a distressful, frightened wail, sensing the intense negative emotions in the room. He tugged at Zhiyu, whimpering, burying his face into Zhiyu's shoulder. Yulin's head instantly snapped towards the baby. The furious intensity in his eyes softened, just for a moment, replaced by a flicker of concern. He saw Haotian's distress, saw Zhiyu rocking him gently, trying to soothe him, despite being shaken badly himself.
And then he again turned to face the emperor not even a single trace of earlier emotion that showed in his face (was it an illusion?zhiyu thought)he said a mocking laugh slipping from his mouth"didn't you ask not to let any harm come to the shen prince. They were trying to harm his so, I just fulfilled what you asked for".
Neither the Emperor's horrified shouts nor the Empress's frantic wails, nor the frantic pleas of her sons, were enough for yulin to show even a flicker of emotion. He just asked the maids to clean it up thoroughly. Taking zhiyu and Haotian without waiting for anyone to say anything.
As a not so silent protest and shere power of a 11 year old crown prince min yulin shook the very foundations of the Imperial Palace, but a new storm, external and far more destructive than internal strife, g
athered on the horizon