Anna POV
The sun was beginning to sink behind the peach-colored mountains of Feng Kingdom when we finally reached the castle. The journey had been strange—quiet, awkward, and filled with a tension I didn't understand. Mong talked the entire way, of course. He spoke about food, horses, birds, the cloud shaped like a turtle, and how he once tried to pet a dragon and nearly lost his hair. I learned that Mong could talk even in his sleep and maybe in death too.
But Shou Feng?
He didn't say a word.
Not to me.
Not to Mong.
Not to the world.
His silence was a wall, cold and ancient.
When we reached the castle gates, my breath caught. Towers carved from ivory stone rose into the sky like frozen spears. Golden banners fluttered in the wind. Intricate carvings ran across the pillars—dragons, blooming chrysanthemums, and long-forgotten gods. Not a place of comfort. A place of power.
Inside, servants moved like waves—bows, nods, hushed voices, quick steps. Everyone looked at Shou Feng and Mong with awe. With fear. And sometimes with confusion when their eyes landed on me.
An American girl with long brown straight hair, brown almond eyes, pink lips, jeans still dusty from travel. I stuck out like a sore thumb in a royal painting.
We ate together later. Mong's energy filled the room while Shou Feng remained silent, practically sculpted from ice.
By the end of the meal, I had learned three things:
Mong would never shut up.
Shou Feng was impossible to read.
The people here were different. Everything here was different.
By noon, a maid came to me.
"The king has summoned you."
My stomach twisted. Summoned? Like a prisoner? Or a guest?
The maid led me through towering corridors. The palace inside was even grander than the outside—ceilings painted with cloud dragons, silvery lanterns glowing with soft fire, white stone floors polished so perfectly I could see my reflection.
Finally, the doors opened to the council chamber.
It was huge, larger than any hall I had seen. Servants, advisors, guards, all stood at attention. People stared at me—my clothes, my hair, my foreign face.
The king sat on a raised platform, dressed in robes of red and gold. His gaze was sharp. The queen stood beside him, calm, elegant, unreadable.
The king waited.
I just stared.
He lifted his brow—waiting for me to bow.
I didn't.
Not because I was being rude.
I simply didn't know how.
His eyes softened in understanding.
"Come," he said.
My legs carried me forward, somehow, though I felt every pair of eyes on me.
"What is your name?"
"Anna Brown."
"Where are you from?"
"America."
He nodded slowly, absorbing my strangeness.
"Your profession?"
"I'm a doctor… well, kind of. I was learning."
"A healer," he said. "A healer who saved my son. My elder son."
His voice lowered with sincerity.
"For that… I thank you."
I swallowed. "I—I only did what anyone would do—"
"No." The king raised a hand. "Not anyone. Many would not risk their life for a stranger."
Before I could protest, he beckoned a guard forward.
A small ornate box lay inside the guard's hands. The king opened it revealing a necklace of silver and pale blue crystal. It shimmered like captured moonlight.
My eyes widened.
"No—I don't need anything—"
"It is a gift. Accept it."
"I really—really don't need—"
"Anna."
His tone turned fatherly.
"Take it."
I exhaled, defeated. "Thank you."
I reached out.
But before the necklace ever touched my skin, a cold shadow fell over me.
Shou Feng.
He stood behind me, silent and sharp, eyes black like obsidian sharpened into a blade. He looked at the box… then at his father… then at me.
The chamber turned to stone.
The king said calmly, "I only wished to thank her."
Shou Feng said nothing.
Not one word.
Instead, he grabbed my wrist—firm, icy—and dragged me out of the council.
"Hey—HEY—let go!" I yanked, but he didn't stop. We stormed through the corridors until we reached his chamber—no, our chamber, apparently, because he had tricked me into staying there.
The door slammed shut behind us.
"What is your problem?!" I snapped, ripping my wrist free.
He turned, jaw tight, eyes burning. "You shouldn't be alone with him."
"He's the king!" I shouted. "Your father!"
He scoffed, cold. "That man is no father of mine."
My heart hammered. "He was thanking me! You're acting like a child—"
"You don't understand anything."
"And YOU think you're the only one who has ever suffered?" My voice shook with anger. "What, you know the pain of losing your loved one? Of waking up and they're just—gone?"
His eyes froze.
Completely.
I took a step forward, breathing hard.
"You don't know what it feels like to lose someone you love so much it breaks you. If you did… maybe you'd stop treating everyone like they're disposable."
His jaw clenched.
Something flickered behind his eyes—hurt? Rage? Memory? I couldn't tell.
"I don't," he whispered, voice barely a breath. "Care."
"Exactly!" My hands trembled. "You don't care about anyone except yourself! You drag me away like you own me, you ignore me, you glare at me like I'm a mistake!"
His voice darkened, low and dangerous. "I want you to stay away from everyone in the castle. No one. Except me and Mong."
I laughed in disbelief. "You don't get to control who I talk to."
"I can and I will."
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"I can if it keeps you alive."
"Why do you even care?!"
He didn't answer.
And that silence—more than any word—broke something in me.
I pushed past him, voice cracking.
"You're impossible. You're cruel. And you know what? You don't get to act like this. Not with me."
I stormed out.
He didn't follow.
Market place.
The palace halls blurred. I didn't know where I was going. I just walked. Out the gates. Past the guards. Into the market.
The streets were alive—laughing vendors, children running, colorful fabrics fluttering, spices in the air, bells ringing. People moved like rivers.
It reminded me of Tsukigawa.
Of warmth.
Of Shoto.
My heart tightened painfully.
His face.
His smile.
The way he died—under Shou Feng's blade—and the smirk on Shou Feng's face that haunted me.
I hated him.
God, I hated him.
I walked until the world quieted. A stone bridge stretched over a clear stream. Lotus flowers floated like tiny suns, petals drifting. Cherry blossoms blew in the wind, soft and slow.
I leaned on the railing, breathing.
Footsteps approached.
Mong.
He stood beside me without a word. The silence between us was warm, unlike the suffocating cold Shou Feng carried.
"I hate him," I said quietly. "What does he even want?"
Mong scratched his head. "Brother is… brother."
"That's not an answer."
"Exactly."
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
Mong continued, "He has his reasons."
"What reasons? He's unreasonable."
Mong groaned dramatically. "Ahhhh, if reasoning was a person, Brother would stab it."
I snorted. "That's not funny—"
"It is a little funny."
It was. It really, really was.
Finally, Mong sighed deeply, shoulders dropping.
"Okay. I'm about to tell you something about Brother. But you promise me you won't tell a soul. Not a bird. Not a rock. Not even a dead leaf. Promise?"
"Fine," I said.
He looked around, then nodded.
"Brother… wasn't always like this."
"Shou Feng was a sweet kid," Mong began. "Very sweet. Gentle. And he loved his mother more than anything. She was his world."
I blinked in surprise. Sweet? Gentle? Shou Feng?
"She was clever," Mong continued, voice softening. "Too clever. She created strategies that even men twice her age couldn't imagine. People respected her… but some hated her for it. Hated that a woman was smarter than them."
The wind rustled the cherry blossoms.
"Brother learned from her more than from Father. She taught him everything—how to read people, how to fight, how to think. She protected him."
Mong's voice cracked.
"One night… Brother was sleeping. He heard a cry. A woman crying. His mother."
I felt my breath stop.
"He rushed outside… but saw no one. Then he saw blood. A trail. He followed it."
Mong swallowed hard.
"He hid behind bushes and saw men hurting her. Killing her."
The world around us fell silent.
"Brother was twelve. I was three. He saw everything. And no one came for her."
My chest tightened painfully.
"At her funeral… Brother heard my mother laughing in her chamber. He told Father. Father did nothing."
Rage. Disgust. Horror. All burned in me at once.
"Brother changed that day," Mong whispered. "The sweet kid died with her."
My eyes stung with tears.
"He became cold. Sharp. Dead inside. The world broke him for being his mother's son."
Cherry blossoms blew around us like falling memories.
I covered my mouth, breath shaking.
"He keeps you away from everyone," Mong said softly, "because when he sees you… he sees someone like his mother. Not his mother, but someone with her strength. Her way of speaking. Her fire."
Tears gathered—hot, unexpected.
"You saved him at his lowest moment," Mong said. "The moment he thought no one would ever risk anything for him. Not after what he has done. But you did."
My heart squeezed painfully.
"He admires you," Mong whispered. "Even if he doesn't know it himself."
I stared at the water below, silent, breath trembling.
After a moment, I managed, "And Shou Feng… he's a playboy?"
Mong clutched his chest dramatically. "Aiya! Please don't call him that! But… yes. But only with women who want to—"
"So he's selective."
"VERY selective. A picky playboy."
Despite myself, I laughed. Hard.
Mong grinned. "See? Much better than crying."
"I wasn't crying—"
"You were about to. Your nose gets puffy."
"It does NOT—"
"It does. Like a baby rabbit."
"Oh my god Mong—"
He smiled, then his expression softened again.
"And Anna… Brother hates himself too."
My breath hitched. "Why?"
"Because it was Tomika's father who planned his mother's death. And Brother… Brother once thought Tomika shouldn't be blamed. He tried to forgive her. Because he used to follow him around."
My stomach twisted.
"But Tomika watched his mother die," Mong whispered. "Without blinking."
A cold shiver ran through me.
"And now he betrayed him fully. Broke whatever humanity he had left."
I stood frozen.
Heart aching.
Chest tight.
Anger and sadness tangled inside me.
Shou Feng wasn't a monster.
He was a child who witnessed the brutal murder of the only person he ever loved—while people laughed, lied, and watched.
And now… he didn't know how to love anything without wanting to cage it for safety.
I closed my eyes, exhaling shakily.
Mong glanced at me with a small, sad smile.
"You still hate him?"
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know anymore.
End of the chapter