Sharp ice crystals pricked at Xiaoman's feet as she crept into the pine forest. She took one last look at the frozen shore, now drenched in blood, and her eyes welled up with tears. Clenching the child closer, she was suddenly alerted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. It was another troop of soldiers. Before she could hide, her gaze locked with a man on a lone horse. She was instantly on guard, her hand reaching for the knife at her waist, but the man simply bowed his head. There was something else in his eyes. It was not greed or evil, but guilt. The man, who looked barely twenty, turned his horse and led his troop in the opposite direction. Xiaoman let out a shaky sigh of relief, but didn't hesitate. She plunged deeper into the dense pine forest.
She ran through the freezing, dense snow, weaving between the towering pines. Darkness was falling and the howls of wolves echoed through the forest. The scent of blood still clung to her. In her arms, the child began to cry and shiver. She looked down to see his tail begin to glow, a sign of the painful transformation. He cried out in agony as the tail split, forming a pair of human legs.
Xiaoman found a nearby cave and carefully laid him inside. His cries eventually faded, his tail gone, replaced by weak, fragile legs. A wave of relief washed over her, but it was momentary. She left him to find firewood, returning with some wild berries and logs. She sealed the cave entrance with the wood and lit a small fire, knowing that Sirens, for an hour after their transformation, are vulnerable to the cold like any human. She lifted the child, placing him on her lap. A soft tune escaped her lips, and tears welled in her eyes.
From singing waves and shores of jade,
A king's first stone was gently laid.
Where sirens rose in silver light,
And shared their gifts with human sight.
The moon and sea and forest deep,
A single, solemn promise keep.
The child's breath came out in a steady fog, escaping from his parched lips. She sang him "The Glory of Tàiyíng",a song she and her sisters had held dear since childhood. It was a melody meant for celebration, for the day the prince would come of age and share it with his peers. But that day never came. The kingdom fell to the hands of barbarians, and now glorious Tàiyíng rests forever beneath the sea, its people all perished.
The cave was dark and silent, except for the soft lullaby and the crackle of the fire. But miles away, the royal palace of Xianwei was a spectacle of light and sound. In its grand halls, a different kind of warmth held court, one born not of embers but of a thousand golden lanterns. Yet despite the grandeur, the hearts of the court were as hard as the stone beneath their feet, and the man who sat on the highest throne had the coldest and hardest heart of all.
Emperor Zhang Yufeng, known more for his cruelty than his humility, was the most feared man in the kingdom. His own people trembled at his name, hiding their daughters at the mere glimpse of him. His cruelty was etched on his forehead like a terrible talisman.
Of his twenty children from ten concubines, only four had survived his reign. Sixteen had perished, leaving behind the crown prince, forty-year-old Zhang Heng; his brother and general of the He army, thirty-year-old Zhang Lan; the emperor's only daughter, fourteen-year-old Zhang Fei; and his youngest son, twenty-year-old Zhang Yiran. Born of a lowly courtesan, Zhang Yiran was treated as filth by his brothers and their mothers. Only Princess Zhang Fei cared for him, as she too was the daughter of a less-favored concubine.
As the favoured sons of the empress and the most beloved concubine, the crown prince and the second prince were born into a life steeped in luxury and had several concubines of their own. At the same time, Zhang Yiran was treated like filth by everyone. Despite the cruel treatment, he rose through the ranks with his formidable martial skills, eventually becoming General Feihong, the esteemed commander of the Xia army of the West.
He became a revered general and a man of the people, beloved by the citizens more than the Emperor or even the Crown Prince. Seeing how the twenty-year-old had captivated the hearts of the court and the populace, the two princes were furious. They frequently plotted to undermine Yiran, constantly creating trouble for him and his army.
As winter crept closer, Emperor Yufeng developed a new fixation: the Heavenly Tianlun Wheel. It was a legendary artifact that could only be opened by the last descendant of the Meiyi clan from the long-lost Tàiyíng kingdom.
The Tàiyíng kingdom, widely believed to be a mythological land lost to the sea, was a realm of mythical beings. It was home to countless legendary creatures, from giant ice dragons to snakes of the frost. The kingdom was ruled by the Meiyi clan, a people who were one with the water and life itself. They were sirens...beautiful, brave warriors of the sea who had protected the land from demons thousands of years ago.The Tianlun was an artifact the Meiyi clan guarded with their lives, for it was the celestial wheel that had restored peace between the human and demon realms. But many coveted the power of the wheel, and the emperor was one of the most powerful among them.
Though a mere human, the Emperor's true power stemmed from a dark pact. He and the crown prince were devout worshipers of the Demon King, Mo Yue, a forbidden entity banished to a separate realm. Their plan was for Mo Yue to reside inside the crown prince's body, granting the family an unimaginable, eternal power. The final step of their ritual was to use the very artifact that had restored peace long ago: the Tianlun Wheel, which alone held the power to open the gates to the demon realm.
To achieve their goal, they had offered up countless lives in sacrifice.men, women, and even children were sacrificed. But the whereabouts of the Tianlun Wheel were a secret known only to the Meiyi people. Recognizing this, the emperor sent the He army to capture the sirens and force the secret from them.
The emperor was contemplating how to bring the sirens to the land when the Demon King Mo Yue appeared beside him spoke.
"Yu Feng,"
the demon king said, his voice a chilling whisper.
"On the second day of the full moon, the Meiyi people will rise to the surface in the last hour before the sun."
He then gave the emperor a small, sealed black jade vessel.
"This is the black jade miasma,"
Mo Yue continued.
"It will spread across the water's surface but won't go deeper. That is why you must pour it on the day of the second full moon, when the sirens rise to worship the moon."
A wicked grin spread across the emperor's face as he retrieved the jade vessel from the surface of the demon mirror, through which he had spoken with the demon king. He handed the miasma to the general of the He army, Zhang Lan, the second prince, and ordered him to capture a few of the sirens alive for him and his sons. The two shared a malevolent smile, a silent understanding passing between them, and the He army marched toward the sirens' shores.
Dawn broke upon a scene of carnage. The shore was littered with the corpses of the He army and the glittering, shattered scales of the sirens. But while the soldiers' bodies lay frozen in the sand, the sirens themselves were nowhere to be found.
The emperor was furious when Zhang Lan returned with news of his failure. But his rage turned to a chilling fury when he learned that his youngest son, Zhang Yiran, had gone to the frozen shore to help the sirens. That unworthy son of his who had always been an obstacle to his plans had once again brought them to ruin.
In a fit of rage, the emperor punished Zhang Yiran with a series of brutal acts. He ordered three hundred lashes, followed by two days of public humiliation, forcing him to kneel before the entire court. Finally, Zhang Yiran was cast into a water prison and made to starve for a week.
Weakly, he emerged from the prison and went to see his mother. She too had been punished by the emperor, her suffering a consequence of failing to raise her son "correctly." Yiran knelt helplessly before her, sobbing as her hands, frail and bruised, reached for his face and gently wiped away his tears.
He cried with tears streaming down his bruised face. she spoke but her voice was a meek whisper.
"Ran Ran, my Ran Ran… you're finally back,"
she said, her voice barely audible.
"This mother just wanted to see you one last time before I leave… My dear, my time has come. I cannot bear to part with you, my son."
She reached out and clasped his hand, her touch cold and fragile.
"Always remember… shield the weak, no matter what. My son, I will always be with you."
Her hands fell limp, and with a single, last tear tracing a path from her half-open eyes, her breath stilled.
Zhang Yiran's sobs broke the silence, his voice echoing through the cold, desolate chambers of the palace to which his mother had been banished. He held her lifeless body, clutching her fiercely as his tears soaked into her simple robes. The one person who had ever shown him unconditional love had now left him alone to face a world that had only ever sought to break him.