Xiangge hurried over the slippery roof, skillfully using qinggong. Wet moss squelched beneath his boots. Chilly winds and a cold drizzle fell from the old night sky. The scent of wet earth drifted from below.
Now and then, soundless lightning flashed brightening the gloomy sprawl of Yunshan. It was the sign of a storm to come.
Xiangge paused, feeling exhausted. He was slightly out of breath and his limbs were already aching.
Nineteen years, and he was still running. He'd lost count of how many times he'd run. How many times those hands had dragged him back.
Still, he couldn't stop.
For a bare moment, he his eyes caught the sight of Lingtian Tower, the former stronghold of Xuan Huang's first twin emperors. It rose afar, veiled among misty peaks, looming like a corpse lantern in the stormlight.
His lips pressed into a thin line. He wiped away the water drops dripping from his face with the back of his tight sleeve and leapt off the roof.
This time, if he did not flee, he would be waiting for his death. Perhaps the most irreversible mistake he made in this life was trusting that hateful person.
Buildings wavered in the downpour, edges softened like smoke. Covered lanterns glimmered ghostly against the soaked streets.
The outermost gate of the city had to be near. He rushed forward through the rain, forcing his legs faster. Twenty more steps. Ten. Five. Two.
Suddenly a hand seized his wrist.
The world spun. He crashed into a wall, pain ripping through his spine. Cold stone pressed against his back. His wrists went numb. All he heard was his own heartbeat.
For nineteen year he'd been undefeated. Not once had anyone overpowered him. Not in the training grounds, not in real combat.
Not unless it was him.
Him who stood above all others, whom the entire capital feared, whom he could not outmatch, hated to the core, wanted to kill but couldn't...
Xiangge looked up with moist eyes.
Dark, defined brows framed a face so cold and austere. He had a sharp nose, thin lips, and skin like white jade soaked in moonlight. The mole between his brows was like a seal of fate.
He looked like an immortal in his lordly attire of precious black silk, imperial dragon robe with golden edges of soaring dragons. Rain slid down his shoulders, beading along silk like silver threads.
This person was actually inhumanly handsome. But his sharp masculine features carried an air of great vigor and majesty.
This, perhaps, made his exceedingly handsome face look abstinent, unfriendly and frightening. His whole person exuded an astonishing celestial aura. Standing before him felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. There was only one person like this.
The Emperor of Xuan Huang. Xie Mingxuan.
Xiangge's wrists were slammed against the rough wall, pinned with no chance of escape. The force stunned him, making his wrists go numb.
The moment this person appeared, Xiangge knew his escape was over. He appeared destroying the last hope that kept Xiangge alive.
Everyone in Xuan Huang thought Xiangge feared nothing. But they were wrong. No blade had ever terrified him like this man's presence did. He hated himself for it.
Suppressing the shock, Xiangge snarled. "Let go!"
Mingxuan's face was cold. "Zhen did not give you permission to leave. Xuanji, you dare."
Xiangge laughed suddenly. It was indescribably beautiful. But it couldn't hide the sense of ridicule like a sneer. He bowed his head rudely.
"The honored Junshang himself came to seize a criminal. Truly, what an honor for this lowly one."
Mingxuan's face darkened. "So you really were escaping after killing her."
"Yes!"
The slap struck like lightning, snapping his face to the side. His cheek flared from the impact.
Water dripped from the roof tiles. One drop struck the ground between them with a hollow note.
Mingxuan seized his chin, forcing his face upward. "Then how dare you run? Did you think Zhen is blind?"
At this moment, the sudden hate and pain that Xiangge suppressed in the pits of his heart, rippled and surged out like a tide.
The lingering tears that hung at the ends of his eyes, exploded at once. He violently struggled against the grasp to break free.
"Xie Mingxuan! One day, you'll pay for everything you did to me!"
Mingxuan's eyes flashed. Xiangge dared to call him by name. Anyone else would already be dead. But this was Xiangge.
"Zhen is the Emperor," he warned, voice low. "Speak again, and you will regret it."
Xiangge could no longer struggle. His body was completely restrained. He slowly shut his eyes, ignoring the tears that slipped down his cheeks. His head throbbed, ready to burst. His heart pounded, desperate, like it was gasping its last breath.
"Junshang," he whispered. "I forgave you for killing my parents. I forgave you for killing my sister."
He swallowed hard, lashes trembling. "I can also forgive you for what you did to me that night."
"Shut up!" Mingxuan's voice turned to ice. A dangerous shadow passed over his face. His pale knuckles cracked as he tightened his grip on Xiangge's wrist.
When he opened his mouth to speak again, nothing came out. His fury raged, yet deep in the frozen depths of his heart, something numbed.
Xiangge knew he had touched the Emperor's reverse scale. He smiled and provoked.
"Junshang?" he said in a soft voice. "You haven't forgotten, have you? That night? When you destroyed me?"
Mingxuan's jaw tightened. The air turned icy. "Return to the palace. Now."
Xiangge glared at him, breathing hard. "Kill me! I'll never return!"
Mingxuan raised his hand to slap Xiangge again. But he froze. His eyes swept over Xiangge's face. The flushed cheeks. Shuddering lashes. Thin lips.
If he slapped him now, Xiangge might not survive it.
His hand lowered slowly, the restraint deepening the fury inside him. For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared at Xiangge, as if he were something he didn't recognize anymore.
At the age of thirty two, Mingxuan stood at the peak of his life. He had guided Xuan Huang into a golden age of prosperity unmatched in its history.
Under his reign, the realm flourished. His decisions were sharp and flawless. He left no crack in the walls of power.
But...
If there was one flaw in him... if there was one sore spot that not even he could hide, that was Xiangge.
Fifteen years had passed since he ascended. A million people knelt at his feet.
But not this one.
This one's defiance lodged beneath Mingxuan's ribs like a thorn he could never pull free. And yet, he remained the only person Mingxuan ever showed such enduring tolerance for.
Mingxuan tightened his jaw. He released one wrist and dragged Xiangge forward with the other.
"Come back with Zhen to the palace."
But the very moment the Emperor loosened his guard, Xiangge exerted his full strength and pushed the Emperor away.
His palm burst with internal force toward Mingxuan's chest.
It was loathing. The very sight of this person was loathing. Xiangge did not want to entangle with this hateful person anymore. This was the person who haunted his entire life and made him live a life worse than death.
But Mingxuan knew Xiangge's every movement, every instinct, every breath. He had taught him everything, from the first move to the last kill.
So even this lethal strike was easily dodged.
Within three moves, Mingxuan caught his wrist, twisted it behind his back, and kicked him in the side. Though he withheld his martial spiritual energy, the blow was brutal.
Xiangge gasped. His body slammed into the wall with bone-cracking force.
Half the wall shattered.
Pain exploded through his back with a sickening crack. Everything dimmed.
The world shrank to the sound of lashing rain. He gritted his teeth, swallowing blood, and dropped to his knees.
A thin line of dark red traced down his nose. "My spine..."
Mingxuan stood tall before him, hands folded behind his back. His face was carved from shadow. "You dare use what I taught you against me? Xuanji, I'm disappointed."
Xiangge silently wiped his nose with the back of his palm. He did not speak.
Mingxuan's voice dripped like ice. "Consort Shenya was innocent. Why did you kill her? If you have something against me, you should have come for me, not her. What did she do to you?"
The covered lantern above them sputtered, throwing shadows across Xiangge's face. Only the patter of rain broke the silence.
Mingxuan stared down at the kneeling figure.
Xiangge's hair was damp. His breathing came ragged and shallow. Yet he fixed a searing gaze on Mingxuan, rebellion burning in his eyes.
Seeing that glare, something inside Mingxuan snapped.
A memory surfaced.
When Xiangge was an infant, his parents were murdered. Mingxuan had no milk to feed him, so he fed him his blood.
He still remembered the warmth of that small mouth against his wrist, soft and fragile.
Once, when the child was too small to understand, he trailed after Mingxuan and called him gege. Back then those eyes held love and hope.
Now they seethed with hatred.
Deep inside Mingxuan's heart, it felt like being shredded with a thousand knives. That was the last straw. It shattered Mingxuan's restraint.
He seized Xiangge by the throat, lifting him with one arm.
"Maybe I was wrong," Mingxuan siad through clenched teeth. "I should have known better than to raise a dog who bites the hand that fed it."
As his grip tightened, a faint fragrance rose between them.
It was the scent of magnolia, lingering through the storm, sweet and metallic, mingling with the taste of blood. It emanated from Xiangge, like a memory that refused to die.
Xiangge's vision swam. He closed his eyes.
When he was five, this same hand had guided his grip on a wooden sword. Pulled him close through winter. Steadied the brush in his palm in spring. And once, beneath the drooping blossoms of a magnolia tree, Mingxuan held both his hands and promised to keep him safe.
That safety had been a shield stronger than any sword, the one place in the world where he felt untouchable. But that was long ago. The same hand now wrapped around his throat.
The warmth slipped through his fingers, gone like smoke. A hoarse laugh escaped his lips. His throat burned as he shook his head slowly, tears streaming down trembling lashes.
His hands gripped Mingxuan's wrist, the same wrist that once steadied his grip on a wooden sword.
He did not struggle. He did not fight. He stared into Mingxuan's eyes, even as his vision dimmed.
"Are you satisfied now, Junshang?"
Mingxuan didn't speak.
Xiangge's body went gradually numb, pain giving way to strange weightlessness.
A magnolia petal drifted from the eaves, spun once in the wind, then broke apart as it touched the puddle, its white bleeding into black water. The last lantern above them guttered out.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
Xiangge smiled faintly, his Adam's apple trembling. "Let it end here," he whispered. "If you want my life... take it."
Glossary.
Qinggong (轻功): Lightness Gongfu. A martial skill that lets practitioners move swiftly and lightly, almost as if flying.
Xuan Huang (玄煌): The empire under the reign of Twin Thrones, consisting of 42 kingdoms and 300 clans.
Yunshan City (云山城): The imperial capital of the Empire of Xuan Huang.
Zhen (朕): The word Emperors use to refer to themselves, equal to "I" in English but exclusive to the throne.
Junshang (君上): A respectful title meaning "your majesty" or "my lord."
Yulan (玉兰): Chinese Magnolia.
Xuanji (玄玑): The official title conferred by the Emperor to the Fourth Prince, Hua Xiangge.
Gege (哥哥): "Elder brother" in Chinese.