For once, Mù Yēn fell silent. His lips parted but no sound came, his golden eyes fixed on his father. Should he say, "Don't force yourself to save me," or should he finally spit out, "You all only care about my powers, not me"?
Before he could decide, Xuānluò's spiritual power surged again, pressing down like a storm about to break. The elder's translucent glasslike wings shuddered without rhythm, their glow intensifying until veins of light strained across his body. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding.
Mù Yēn's breath hitched when a bead of blood slid from his father's mouth. The sight stabbed him with both fear and fury.
"Why don't you ever hear me?!" he burst out, voice cracking, trembling between rage and heartbreak. "I said—you don't need to do this! If this is my fate, then I'll accept it!"
He slapped Xuānluò's hands away, staggered back, hair falling loose over his face, chest heaving as if his ribs were too tight to hold his lungs.
"Stupid child!" Xuānluò snarled, anger breaking through his usually cold voice. "What makes you any different from Hàoyǔ?! You're acting like him—resisting your parents' orders!"
His energy collapsed the moment Mù Yēn severed the forced contract. The phantom wings behind the boy shattered into nothing, his altered skin and glowing eyes fading back to normal. Father and son stood opposite one another, severed by breathless silence.
Mù Yēn's expression barely shifted, but his golden eyes flickered sharply—silent anger masked under soft features.
"Come back here, Mù Yēn," Xuānluò warned, his voice low, trembling with fury. "Do as I command… or you know what will happen."
In the other room, Shěnhuī stiffened as the sound of raised voices reached her ears. Her wings twitched. Is Xuānluò trying that forbidden experiment again? And… why does my boy's voice sound so defiant?
With a snap, she flung open his door. The familiar thunder of her arrival made both father and son tense instinctively—her presence was always a storm before it broke.
"What is going on here?!" she demanded, striding to Xuānluò's side. Her sharp gaze softened with sudden alarm when she caught the blood at his lips. She cupped his chin roughly, forcing his face toward her.
"What have you done to yourself this time?!"
"Ask your son!" Xuānluò snapped, shoving her hand down. "I tried to restore his wings so we wouldn't waste years searching for a match—but this stubborn boy rejected me!"
Shěnhuī's glare darted toward her son. Mù Yēn swallowed hard. Anger and helplessness churned in him—her defiance lived in his bones too, yet he had never been allowed to wield it. Hàoyǔ could rebel, laugh, twist punishments into games. But for Mù Yēn… rebellion had always meant trauma.
"Come back here, Mù Yēn," Shěnhuī's voice turned venomous. "Or I'll bring out that stick you fear so much."
The threat made his heart lurch violently. His breath locked in his chest. That cursed stick—something she always used to break him. For Hàoyǔ, it was a toy. For him, it was terror.
Still, through the rising panic, he forced words out.
"I… I won't."
His defiance shocked her. Her wings flared twice in fury, her eyes wide as if she couldn't believe her quiet son had spoken back. Xuānluò's jade eyes met hers, coldly saying without words: See what he's becoming?
"You dare talk back to your parents?!" she shouted, voice like a whip. "You're becoming a brat like your brother!"
But those words struck Mù Yēn like an unexpected gift. His heart skipped, heat rushing to his cheeks. Like Hàoyǔ…? Finally, even for a moment… I'm like him.
A smile threatened the corner of his lips, but he swallowed it, steeling himself instead.
"I… I'm done with you all."
Both parents froze, stunned by the sudden fire in his voice.
"Mù Yēn." Xuānluò's voice dropped into a growl, his hand sliding into his robes. "Don't make me draw my knife on my own son."
Mù Yēn's gaze darted to the gleam of metal as his father lunged. Pain seared across his upper arm as the blade nicked him—not deep, but enough to tear flesh and fabric, enough to make blood spill warm down his sleeve.
His heart thundered in his throat. Yet instinct and training carried him—he dodged, movements sharp and fluid, rage bursting free with every step.
"I'm not some helpless princess you can cage!" he shouted, voice breaking yet powerful. "I'm a man—let me live as one! Even if my life is short, even if I'm alone forever—I don't need a lover, or family, or a long life!"
The sound of clapping broke through the storm. The beat of wings followed, a shadow crossing the window.
Hàoyǔ.
He dropped down from Yàn Yàn's back with his usual grin, hands still clapping. "Brilliant! Brilliant, brother! Finally, you disobeyed them—just like the great hero Hàoyǔ!"
"Shut up, you both brats!" Xuānluò and Shěnhuī snapped in unison, fury exploding at the sight of their other son. Shěnhuī lunged at Hàoyǔ while Xuānluò pressed forward toward Mù Yēn again.
Mù Yēn flushed, torn between anger and embarrassment at his brother's taunting praise.
"Shut up! Just… hand me my guqin!" he shouted, dodging another strike. "If you really care about me, give it here—for once in my life!"
Hàoyǔ chuckled, dancing out of his mother's reach. "Alright, alright~! But if you play it, you'd better admit it—say it with me: you're becoming a brat, just like me!"
Ignoring him, Mù Yēn reached out desperately as Hàoyǔ grabbed the guqin from the table—the dark green body etched with golden leaves gleaming like forbidden freedom.
Xuānluò's voice cut through, sharp and deadly.
"Do as I say, Mù Yēn. Or must I draw my sword next?"
But the boy only clenched his jaw, chest rising and falling like waves crashing. He ripped the simple golden crown from his head and flung it aside, his long hair spilling free around him.
The crown clattered against the floor.
And with that sound, Mù Yēn was no longer a crown prince.
Only a boy—breaking free, even if only for a moment.