(Several months ago)
Back when Shenya was still a princess who played in gardens and sang to trees, when she had seen no more than eighteen springs, she gave her heart to a lone prince.
Xiangge had always stood apart from the other noble young masters.
He avoided court politics. At the academy, he consistently ranked first, defeating seniors more than ten years older in both combat and skill.
He honored his teachers, carried himself with quiet grace, and possessed a remarkable talent for medicine.
And above all, he never set foot inside brothels.
He was handsome, composed, and distant in a way that made him seem untouchable, like something one could admire but never reach.
In those days, he was the ideal young man in every girl's eyes. Yet he never paid attention to any of them. At night, he remained in the library with his scrolls. By day, he trained until dusk.
To Shenya, there was only one word that fit him. Perfect.
She remembered the first time she met him face to face, beneath drifting peach blossoms.
He had smiled at her, setting his sword against the tree trunk and brushing the sweat from his brow.
She also remembered the day she confessed her feelings at the lake pavilion.
Veiled by lotuses and morning mist, in a world of their own, he had held her gently and promised love.
It felt like a beautiful dream.
"Junshang, I... I want to write to Xiangge. May I use your desk?"
"Go ahead."
After her marriage with the emperor, Mingxuan had moved into a side palace in his residence. They shared the same chamber, but they rarely interfered with each other's lives.
During the day, Shenya spent her time walking through the courtyard gardens. In the evenings, she sat by the lake and fed the golden carp.
When night fell and Mingxuan returned from court, he sat at the jade desk and read memorials until late.
If he rested at all, it was on the couch. He never approached the bed. He gave her the privacy she wanted.
It had been one month since she married the Emperor. One month since she last saw Xiangge.
Yet there was a truth she still could not speak.
Her feelings for Xiangge had been genuine, and Mingxuan was aware of it.
Everything had begun on that evening when she went to Shuangjiang Peak to gather some herbs Xiangge needed. Beneath a dying tree, a venomous snake bit her ankle.
The poison spread fast, numbing her limbs. Pain tightened through her body until she tasted blood.
Just when she thought she would die alone, a man who was passing by, stopped and knelt beside her.
Under the falling leaves, grasping at the last bit of hope she could find, she seized his sleeve and cried blood tears.
"Please, please save me. I... promised Xiangge... I would meet him at the lantern festival tonight–"
She did not understand why she said it, but the broken words came out on their own.
The man examined her ankle with steady hands, his expressionless gaze lingering on the swollen flesh and the dark purple veins tightening beneath her skin.
"The poison has reached your heart," he said in a low voice. "You will not survive for long. What is your last wish?"
Tears streamed faster. She gripped his wrist tightly. "Then give me... one day. I want to see him one more time."
The man carried her to the palace.
At that time, she did not know he was Mingxuan, the Emperor.
Three days later, he married her.
He brought her to the side palace and used his immense spiritual energy to stabilize her.
Simply being close to him was enough. His warmth, touched with a hint of sandalwood, flowed through her meridians and held the poison at bay.
Little by little, she recovered.
And now she sat beside the jade desk while Mingxuan read through the memorials. She picked up his brush and wrote.
[My heart feels heavy lately. We should meet soon...]
It was only partly true. The poison had reached her heart, and without Mingxuan, she would have died.
Xiangge had no idea.
She folded the letter and held it out carefully. "Junshang, it is finished."
Mingxuan did not look up. He merely motioned to a nearby maid.
"Deliver this to Yumeng Palace."
The maid bowed and departed silently.
Shenya watched him return to his work, his expression unreadable. His face gave nothing away, no curiosity, no emotion. Only the same cold, distant mask.
At first, she had believed he simply did not care.
But over time... she was no longer certain.
Five months passed like this.
Every few days, she would write. Every time, Mingxuan would have her letters delivered without question.
She would meet Xiangge if she could. And Mingxuan would ask a maid to see her off.
Gradually, she started noticing the small details.
The way his hand sometimes paused before waving the maid away, the slightest hesitation, as if each letter cost him something.
The way he never asked what she wrote. Never commented. Just permitted.
The way he worked late into the night, silent and alone, never seeking company or comfort.
She had once thought him cold, unfeeling.
But now she wondered. Was it truly coldness, or something else buried deep beneath the surface?
One evening, she summoned her courage.
"Junshang," she said softly. "Why do you allow me to write to him?"
Mingxuan did not lift his eyes from the memorial in his hands. He remained silent for a long moment.
Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "You asked for one day."
That was all.
Yet something in those words made her chest tighten. There was a weight to them, something left unsaid.
She wanted to ask more, but his expression had already closed, keeping her out.
From that moment, she began observing him more carefully.
The way he adjusted the screen when the room grew cold, without being asked.
The way he left her favorite tea on the desk each morning.
The way his jaw tightened slightly when she mentioned Xiangge's name.
It was not jealousy. She did not think it was jealousy.
It was something else. Something heavier, like grief.
He only said one thing. "You should spend more time with him."
One night, she woke to find him still at the desk, head bowed over the memorials, face buried in his palms.
His skin looked drawn and pale. He looked clearly exhausted.
"Junshang, you should rest," she said.
"Zhen is fine."
But he wasn't. She could see it now. The way he burned himself out night after night, pouring spiritual energy into her to suppress the poison, then working until dawn without complaint.
He never asked for thanks. Never expected anything.
He just... gave.
She lay back down, staring at the silk canopy above.
Mingxuan might seem cold, she thought. But perhaps... he's warm inside.
He's expressionless. But deeper within, there's something bothering him...
What had happened to make him this way? What burden did he carry that made him so willing to bleed himself dry for a woman who loved another man?
She didn't know.
And she was afraid to ask.
Five months.
When she'd begged for one day, he'd given her five months.
Meeting after meeting. Letter after letter. He'd facilitated it all without complaint, without question.
She should have been happy.
But lately, when she visited Xiangge, something felt... wrong.
She'd catch herself thinking of Mingxuan instead. Wondering if he'd eaten. If he was resting. If he was in pain.
Even though she knew Mingxuan never loved her, when Xiangge smiled at her, she'd think: Mingxuan never smiles.
When Xiangge held her hand, she'd think: Mingxuan's hands are always cold from transferring qi to me.
Guilt gnawed at her.
She was wasting the gift he'd given her.
Then came that evening.
She was preparing to leave for Yumeng Palace when the sound of shattering jade filled the chamber.
She spun around. "Junshang!"
A jade bowl lay shattered on the tiles. Mingxuan stood frozen, staring at his numb hand as if he didn't recognize it.
"Don't go today."
His voice was tight. Strained.
Shenya's heart skipped. In five months, she'd never seen him lose composure. Never heard that tone.
"Why not? Xiangge is expecting–"
"Don't go." His eyes lifted to meet hers, and for the first time, she saw something flicker there. Something dark and urgent. "Stay here tonight."
She should have listened.
She should have known: when a man who controlled storms told you danger was coming, you listened.
But she didn't.
"Junshang, I promised–"
"Zhu!" Mingxuan's voice cut through the room. "Where is Xiangge?"
Eunuch Zhu's voice came from outside: "Lord Xuanji went to the city to find herbs."
Mingxuan's face went white. Without another word, he swept past her, robes billowing.
"Zhen is going to the city. Zhu, don't follow!"
"Junshang! Please wait! Junshang!"
Their voices faded into the courtyard.
Shenya stood alone in the silent chamber, staring at the broken bowl.
Something cold grew in her heart. Was Xiangge in danger? She did not know.
She should have stayed.
But she didn't.
She went to Yumeng Palace anyway.
And that was her last mistake.
She didn't remember much after that.
Only fragments, sharp and terrible.
Under Lushen's torture, as life vanished and warmth left her, with the tears that left her eyes, the last person that came to her mind was not Xiangge.
Not Xiangge's smile beneath the peach blossoms.
Not the lantern festivals or whispered promises.
But Mingxuan.
Mingxuan, who had knelt in falling leaves and asked about her last wish.
I asked for one day, she thought, vision darkening. He gave me five months.
And I wasted them.
But it was too late.
The last thing she felt was bitter regret.
When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer alive.
The world was cold. Gray. Wrong.
That night, she stood in the court hall, dripping water, surrounded by horrified officials.
Every single word died in her throat.
Between rains and thunders, under swinging lanterns in the court hall, for the first time, in her life, she did not know what to say.
In the end, suppressing a thousand inexplicable emotions in her cold heart, she only raised her eyes to Mingxuan and smiled.
"Junshang," tears and blood dripped from her face, "thanks for everything."
She wanted to say more.
I'm sorry I wasted the time you gave me.
I'm sorry I never understood.
I'm sorry I chased a dream instead of seeing the reality.
But the words wouldn't come.
She was already dead.
So she smiled, broken, like a wilted flower, and slowly repeated: "For e
verything."
And then she turned away, and did not look back again.
If ever she was freed from this vengeful spirit...
If ever she was reborn into the endless cycle of life...
She wished if she could meet him again.
And repay him with everything that she couldn't in this lifetime...