The silence of the empty palace was broken by the faint ticking of the clock, the coldness of the night air creeping in, and the blue stone steps chilled with the evening's dreamlike stillness.

Her mother, a noble of the Ye family, had fallen for the rigid, unyielding man, Fu Shuli. Though he already had a wife, she, a lady of high birth, willingly became his concubine, her deep love for him clear to all.

But Fu Shuli did not love her; he despised her and the power of the Ye family. Yet, more than that, he feared the Ye family's influence... and so, he married her.

From the moment she could remember, her mother, frail and weak, had been drowning in tears.

She met Ye Tan when accompanying her mother to the Ye residence for treatment. She was young, barely of age, but she met that cold, stubborn yet kind young man in black.

From then on, she could see no one else.

She remembers that night vividly: she had made a lotus lantern to pray for her mother’s health. At the stroke of midnight, they secretly went to the riverbank, lit the lantern, and placed it on the water’s surface.

The ripples spread in delicate circles, the lantern floating gracefully among the scattered lotuses, drifting towards the distance.

The boy turned his head, a faint blush on his face, and spoke softly:

“Zi Jing, will you be my wife in the future?”

“Yes, yes!”

Without hesitation, she answered, her shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Fireflies gathered in the air, their faint glow drifting towards the water’s surface.

Then, they embraced each other tightly.

Later, she learned that releasing lanterns at midnight was a tradition for praying for the souls of the deceased.

Perhaps that was the moment when their love began wrongly — a beginning founded in error, and an end bound to the same fate.

Her mother passed away in blood, and in her final moments, knowing her daughter’s resentment towards Fu Shuli, she begged her to fulfill one last request.

That pitiful woman believed that by agreeing, she could restore the father-daughter bond.

But in the end, she relented.

Later, Fu Shuli took her back to his residence, for she was his only daughter.

He wanted her to enter the palace, to be selected. She refused with all her might, for her heart already belonged to that black-clad, stubborn youth.

Eventually, he begged her... and she could not refuse, not just for her mother's dying plea, but because he was her father...

The young man’s gaze, filled with resentment, was as bright and glaring as the sun, brimming with hatred...

Fu Zijin suddenly woke from her dream, gasping in pain, her hands covering her eyes. It hurt, but no tears came.

It was just a dream... Yet, even in a dream, seeing him was enough for her.

Her heart seemed to rot away, and in the desolate palace, she was surrounded by a scent of decay she couldn’t escape.

A sound came from the door, and she looked over, slightly confused.

The palace servants had long extinguished the lanterns, leaving only a half-lit red candle. In the dim light, a handsome man in the guise of a guard stood by her bedside, his piercing eyes fixed on her with cold, vengeful intensity.

Fu Zijin’s heart raced, and she numbly raised her head, unsure if the handsome man before her was real. His beautiful eyes, now clouded with confusion, seemed to shimmer with something more.

His deep, captivating gaze rippled with traces of hatred, yet there was a subtle hint of love that bled into the cold night.

Summoning all her courage, she reached out to touch Ye Tan’s face.

“You came... you really came. It’s not a dream, is it? Ye Tan, do you still hate me?”

Ye Tan froze for a moment, raising his brow in anger, a mixture of pain and deep affection in his expression.

“Of course, I hate you, Empress Dowager!”

The lingering fragrance of the red candle, faintly tinged with gray, danced in her eyes.

When he called her "Empress Dowager," her heart felt like it was being torn apart.

Her eyes glazed over with a faint sadness, and she slowly leaned into Ye Tan, gently holding him.

“Ye Tan… Ye Tan…”

Fu Zijin murmured, her gaze lifting to the moonlight from that night, a soft smile appearing on her lips. In her eyes was an expression of helplessness and grace.

"I owe you a debt of love, but at that time, I had no choice... I knew you would forgive me, but to see you once more... I would die happy."

Ye Tan trembled, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tightly as if trying to merge her into him.

"Why must you do this? You’ve already become the Empress Dowager..."

“I don’t care about that, I don’t care! I only love you, I only love you...”

She clung to him, trembling, her tears flowing freely.

“Zi Jing, you’re always so willful.”

"The last time I saw you was five years ago. If I hadn’t been willful, if I hadn’t acted recklessly, I probably would have died alone in the palace without ever seeing you again." Fu Zijin’s lips curved into a soft smile, her black hair cascading down, and despite the sorrow in her eyes, she continued with a tinge of despair, "This time... if it weren’t for the Empress, you probably wouldn’t have come to see me, would you?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You know, ever since you decided to obey your father and enter the palace, I’ve sworn never to see you again."

"I had no choice, Ye Tan!" Fu Zijin finally broke down in tears, her voice cracking. "Mother asked me, even though that man wronged her all her life, she still loved him... She begged me, begged me to fulfill one request. And that request was for me to enter the palace. I had no choice... I was so afraid, so afraid! Do you think the palace is a good place? Every word and action is scrutinized, and it feels like it could suffocate you!"

Fu Zijin collapsed against his shoulder, her fingers convulsing as they clutched his sleeve, trembling and crying uncontrollably.

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows on Ye Tan’s figure, while the heavy air felt still, as though it had stopped moving altogether.

He sighed lightly, embracing her tightly. His fingers brushed against her skin, which felt hot to the touch.

"Don’t be afraid. We still have a chance. The Empress promised me, if you can do this, we can be together again."

"Really? Really?" Fu Zijin’s eyes were filled with tears, and she weakly spoke, "You say, I’ll do anything!"

Ye Tan’s hand tightened on her shoulder, almost causing her pain, but she didn’t cry out. She just stared at him, lost in a daze.

"Zi Jing, you just need to make the Emperor drink this."

Ye Tan took a small pouch from his sleeve and solemnly placed it in her hand.

Fu Zijin felt her heart pounding violently, uncertain whether it was due to anxiety or some other reason. She clenched the small pouch tightly in her hand, trembling as she shook her head forcefully.

“This is too terrifying!” The moment she heard the words, she almost lost her balance, collapsing weakly into Ye Tan’s embrace. Her body quivered in fear, her lips trembling. "Heavens! You want to poison the Emperor?"

“This is not poison,” Ye Tan said softly, supporting the feeble Fu Zijin. He gently reached out, tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ear. "We do not need him dead, trust me, Zi Jing. I promise you, this medicine will not bring him to death! For the sake of our future together, can you agree, Zi Jing?"

Feeling the sharp pain on her wrist, she froze, unable to utter a word, her soul seemingly drained as she stared into his clear eyes. She trembled, her teeth chattering, and with a half-moaned voice, she whispered, "Yes..."

As long as it was his wish... she would fulfill it...

In her heart, she repeated these words, feeling as if she were sinking into despair. She closed her eyes, and Ye Tan, as though relieved, let go of her wrist.

Then, he gently kissed her trembling lips.

The long night unfolded like a song, the thin gauze curtains billowing as the spring’s warmth softly hummed in the background.

Outside the window, dusk had already settled in, the spring day rich and warm, and the air in the palace beginning to grow stifling.

Within the Qianqu Palace, Roga loosened the tightly fitted collar of his robes, his gaze fixed on the chaotic stack of documents before him, his head almost splitting in frustration. His fingers hovered over the yellowed papers, his eyes narrowing. For more than a month now, everything had seemed as usual, yet despite his deliberate attempt to relax, the Ye family’s affairs remained impeccably tight-lipped, leaving him without a single lead.

It was not the result of a single day’s work—the disorder in the Ministry of Household's accounts had not come about overnight. On the surface, everything appeared pristine, yet there were countless hidden discrepancies. If he wished to untangle them, it would take more than just a day, but the knots were so intricate...

To challenge the Ye family meant to shake the very foundations of the empire.

The task had already begun, and naturally, pulling on one thread would unravel the carefully woven tapestry. Therefore, he had no choice but to act.

As he sat there, his mood heavy, he was nearly overcome with the urge to sweep the papers from the table.

Suddenly, He Qian's voice came from outside, "Your Majesty, Empress Dowager requests an audience."

Roga paused, then gave a slight nod, "Let her in."

The soft murmurs of birds outside mingled with the overcast sky, as if rain were impending.

Fu Zijin passed through layers of curtains and entered the Qianqu Palace.

The palace was eerily silent, with no sounds of attendants. He Qian lifted the bamboo curtain.

With a gentle smile, Fu Zijin entered, dressed in light-colored robes and draped in delicate gauze. She curtsied respectfully.

"Your servant greets Your Majesty."

Roga stood, taking her hand with affection, guiding her to sit beside him.

"How is Your Majesty’s health? Are you still coughing?" His voice was filled with concern as he gently stroked her slender hand, exuding warmth and intimacy.

"I am much better now." Fu Zijin lowered her head, a hint of feigned shyness in her manner, balancing respect and restraint as she addressed Roga.

"That is a relief. I often worry about you, my beloved." Roga smiled softly, his gaze drifting past her, as if lost in thought.

"My beloved, is there something you wish to discuss today?" He asked, his tone gentle yet carrying an unspoken question.

As palace protocol dictated, consorts were not permitted to enter the Qianqu Palace without formal summons. Yet, because Fu Zijin was always prudent and well-mannered, Roga made an exception.

Waiting for her to speak, Fu Zijin nodded slightly, and the attending maid quickly presented a jade cup.

"What is this?" Roga inquired.

"It is a coconut soup with rock sugar and snow fungus. I noticed that Your Majesty has been troubled by state affairs lately, so I personally prepared this for you," Fu Zijin said, her eyes flickering with a subtle unease, her gaze shifting to the ground.

The dark, ornate floor beneath her seemed to absorb her shadow, and the room felt heavy with an unspoken tension.

"You are too kind to go through all this trouble," Roga said softly, a touch of apology in his gaze. When she met his eyes, her face flushed crimson, and her words stumbled. "Please, Your Majesty... have it while it's still warm."

He Qian took the jade cup and, after testing it for poison with a silver needle, handed it to Roga.

Roga took a few sips, savoring the delicate sweetness, and, finding it to his liking, drank nearly half the bowl.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Fu Zijin excused herself from the Qianqu Palace.

Passing through the long corridors, she returned to her chambers.

The familiar scent of sandalwood rose from the purple jade incense burner, yet it failed to soothe her racing heart.

She dismissed her attendants, and her body began to shake uncontrollably, like sifted grain.

She had done it.

Burying her face in her hands, she could barely lift her head.

She had mixed the mysterious powder into the soup, and the Emperor had drunk it...

What a terrible thing she had done!

She was so afraid... trembling in fear of what she had just done...

She wished that he were here beside her, comforting her...

If only Ye Tan were here, she would fear nothing... nothing at all...

But it was impossible... Ye Tan was not here... Even if he were, she could not see him freely...

But he had promised... soon, they would be together, never to part again...

So she had to be strong...

She had to do what she was meant to do... she had to do everything for their future!

The faint smoke before her gradually dissipated, and scenes seemed to unfold like a painted scroll, covered in deep reds and soft purples, swirling together to drag him into an endless abyss.

Endless dizziness, endless confusion.

The cold darkness closed in, inch by inch, moment by moment, suffocating him.

No light, no sound—only him, alone, wandering in the boundless darkness.

Who? Who would come to save him?

Struggling, he forced his eyes open, feeling the warmth of his own body, mingled with the dampness of sweat.

Sitting up, Roga covered the side of his face, his persistent headache causing him to involuntarily furrow his brow. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vision blurred with a dark, crimson hue. The pain in his head had numbed, spreading through him like a cold, creeping paralysis, yet it still churned in waves within his chest, as if his very heart would leap from his ribs. He had once believed that part of him had already died, long ago, perhaps even years before, wiped out completely.

An overwhelming tide of emotion surged through him, his hand pressing against his chest, where his heart pounded so urgently, so rapidly, as though something was about to burst forth.

Outside, the leaves swayed in the wind, their shadows casting a delicate, slanted pattern across the window screen.

And there he sat, motionless on the bed, as though lost in a trance.

The shadows of the trees slowly morphed into vengeful spirits, their mournful wails filling the air, their bony fingers clenching his garment. Yet he could not move; he could only stare, wide-eyed.

The candlelight flickered softly, a faint crimson hue spreading like wildfire in the frenzy, while the tears of rouge froze in the ashes of the flame.

Suddenly, Roga threw on his robe and strode toward the door, his steps forceful and deliberate, as the palace guards hurried to catch up with him, not daring to be left behind.