Within the Palace of Tranquil Longevity, a thin veil of incense smoke rose from a bronze beast-shaped censer. Even though roused from her slumber deep in the night, Empress Dowager Su retained her usual grace and composure, half-reclined on a brocade couch before a screen of creamy white jade.

It was midsummer, and even in the dead of night, the stifling heat of the day lingered heavily. Two palace attendants stood by her couch, fanning gently, though fine beads of sweat were already forming on their foreheads.

On the aging face of Empress Dowager Su, no amount of care could hide the fine lines etched by years of smiles. Yet, she remained a figure of beauty and elegance.

"With Xie Liulan gone, His Majesty can finally rule in his own right. What a grand occasion this is, though it’s a pity Ye Rong has also returned to Jing'an. I wonder what His Majesty plans to do with her?"

Roga sat before Su Qingfu with a cold expression, as if he hadn't heard her words. He lifted a porcelain cup of tea with his long fingers, took a sip, and spoke in an indifferent tone, as if commenting on the weather.

"I shall make her my empress."

"What?!"

Su Qingfu could hardly believe her ears. Her body straightened abruptly, and the phoenix ornament hanging from her hair swayed violently in the candlelight, casting a flickering glimmer from the jewels and pearls.

Seeing Su Qingfu's rare loss of composure, a sharp-edged smile curved upon Roga's lips. His handsome features, inherited from the Li royal family, were offset by his steely, sword-like gaze.

"I said I shall make Ye Rong my empress, the mistress of Ning Ye Palace."

"No!" Su Qingfu's voice rose, echoing through the hall. Realizing her loss of composure, she took a deep breath and spoke again, this time with measured calm, "Anyone else, but never a woman from the Ye family can wear the phoenix crown."

"My decision is made. I only came here today to inform Mother."

His words were final, and Su Qingfu, filled with rage, let out a bitter laugh—cold and devoid of any warmth, piercing into one's heart.

"You know full well the relationship between the two of you. How can you..."

"My father did it. Why can't I?"

The thin gauze curtains, clear as ice, could not hold back the night that encroached on him, a thick darkness seeping onto his face, ominous and dim. "For three years, I have been a puppet under Xie Liulan's thumb. I will not allow anyone else to command me. I want you to understand, Mother, that this realm is mine—every subject, every soul must heed my will, whether they like it or not."

The final word, "Mother," though spoken in Roga's low voice, struck as heavily as a hammer, even as softly as a willow catkin floating in the wind.

"You... you unfilial child!"

Her hand struck the table forcefully, and even the tea cup clattered from the impact. Her long, vermilion-painted nails cracked against the lacquered table with an audible snap.

The sound, filled with deep sorrow, pierced through the flickering lights of the palace night, but Roga, wrapped in his imperial robes of bright yellow, strode away without a backward glance.

Su Qingfu collapsed onto the couch, as though every ounce of her strength had been drained.

Is this fate? All her schemes, all her efforts, could not tear them apart in the end. Was this a curse or a blessing?

Her son, why could he not understand? Everything she did was for him, for the sake of his throne.

When Roga returned to Qianjian Palace, it was already midnight. Just as he lifted his robe, embroidered with the coiled dragon emblem, to step over the threshold, the palace attendant kneeling by the door reported:

"Your Majesty, Princess Ye Rong has been awaiting you for some time."

"Oh?"

His heart skipped a beat; he couldn't fathom why Ye Rong would come to the palace at such an hour.

When he entered the hall, he found her seated quietly.

She was still dressed in a black gown, her long, draped veil trailing across the golden brick floor like an inky river. Only a single white silk flower was pinned to her temple, and she seemed unaware of his arrival until the palace attendant leaned in and whispered in her ear. Then she slowly stood and bowed.

Due to the passing of the Emperor’s foster father, the red candles had been removed from the palace. In the shadowy corners, two turtle-and-crane candleholders bore thick white candles, which had burned so long that the wax had piled like suet jade, drooping down.

The blue blossom painted on her face floated slightly in the candle’s amber glow, her porcelain skin blending with the azure paint into a beauty both distant and cruel—a beauty at once cold and radiant.

His displeasure deepened again. Such indifference was something even Xie Liulan had never shown him.

Yet Roga softened his tone; his handsome face showed no emotion, mirroring her cool aloofness.

"Sister, what business brings you to the palace at this late hour?"

"I have come to request my leave, Your Majesty. I wish to fulfill my father's dying wish and return his coffin to Youzhou for burial."

Roga frowned, a little taken aback. This attempt to flee was something he had not expected from the Ye family.

"You may leave."

These words were directed to the attendant, who hesitated briefly before, seeing Ye Rong's slight nod, bowing and retreating.

A trace of displeasure mixed with faint irritation transformed into a subtle smile tinged with gentleness.

"Ye Rong, I have something to tell you as well."

"Please, Your Majesty."

Her crimson lips curved into a smile devoid of warmth. Her slender fingers, delicate as green onion stalks, were clasped upon her dark robe, her eyes cast downward. From his angle, he could only see her long lashes drooping slightly, casting deep shadows on her pale blue eyelids, trembling faintly like the flickering of candlelight.

"I intend to take you as my empress."

She seemed stunned, finally lifting her face, and only then did he clearly see her eyes.

Dark as ink, her eyes held the luster of polished jade, beautiful yet... bereft of life, their brilliance dulled...

They were as still and lifeless as a stagnant pond.

For a moment, he stood there in a daze until her soft voice called out to him.

"Your Majesty?"

"...I... hope you understand."

She was silent for a moment before bowing her head, a gentle resignation settling upon her stunning face.

"I understand, but I must observe three years of mourning for my father."

"Very well, let us celebrate our union with tea instead of wine."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

His heart inexplicably filled with joy. He picked up the tea cup from the table and held it before his chest, but she remained seated, her slender fingers unmoving, still with that faint smile.

"Why so reluctant? You won't even drink the tea?" The frustration of being thoroughly ignored could no longer be suppressed. His brows furrowed tightly as he spoke mockingly, "Our foster father's passing, yet my sister still has the mood for such elaborate adornment—is this not inappropriate? Or is it that the women of the Ye family are accustomed to acting on whims? In the future, you will command the Six Palaces; some things should be led by example."

Slowly, she lifted her head, her gaze filled with a watery light, as if veiled by a layer of mist, rendering her dark jade eyes particularly bright and crystalline.

"Does Your Majesty not know?"

"Know what?"

"My eyes... have been blind since two years ago due to a strange illness."

The jade-colored eyes curved gently, a hint of sorrow touching her smile. The white silk flower in her hair shimmered strangely in the swaying candlelight.

He was struck with sudden shock, drawing in a sharp breath, staring in disbelief at those beautiful, yet unfocused eyes. A pain like a knife's edge cut through his heart.

"A strange illness..."

"Yes, a strange illness... The blue blossom beneath my eye was originally a scar left from acupuncture treatment. Father invited a skilled artist from Bei Di to tattoo over it to cover the mark."

Her voice echoed through the great hall, empty and emotionless.

A strange illness... It reminded him of the times in his childhood when he had been poisoned, explained to outsiders as a strange malady.

"I was presumptuous."

Slowly, he closed his eyes, suppressing his shock and that inexplicable pain. Knowing she couldn't see, he still instinctively smiled as if to comfort her.

The lessons of the palace had long shaped him; he was no longer the impetuous child who acted on his whims. Suppressing emotions, masking them behind other facades—this had become his greatest skill, and now, no different.

"Your Majesty flatters me. Please, allow me to take my leave."

Beneath the candlelight, her face, fairer than snow, was fragile and delicate, stirring a tenderness within him.

He stepped forward, gently raising his hand, intending to touch her pale, snow-like cheek. But after hesitating for a moment, he ultimately let it fall.

For reasons unknown, he found himself afraid of such contact. He vaguely sensed that everything seemed to have gone off course, leading to a future beyond his control...

And so, his hand lowered, gently taking her arm. She shuddered slightly, but did not pull away, and quietly allowed him to guide her out of the hall.

"I... greatly anticipate our wedding three years from now."

"I too look forward to the day the Ye family and the imperial power are unified."

She spoke indifferently, seemingly unwilling or unable to see the ambiguous tenderness in his eyes. She bowed deeply to the figure in golden dragon robes, her dark head lowered.

Then, assisted by the palace attendants, she was led out, surrounded by servants.

The attendants held lotus-shaped lamps, and she could still be seen bowing her head, her long dark robes trailing, their shadows dancing in the lamplight before vanishing into the pitch-black night.

He stood there, a hollow emptiness expanding within his chest—unable to think, unable to grasp a coherent thought, engulfed in chaos.

The power for which he had yearned day and night, that caused him such pain, that he pursued at any cost, had finally fallen into his hands. He should have been ecstatic, yet for some reason, looking at her indifferent, unperturbed beauty, his heart felt hollow, as if something essential were missing.

As the final glimmer of light disappeared into the darkness, the distant echo of the watchman's drum could be heard from deep within the palace.

Three years later, the fifth year of Kangnian, summer, Guazhou Post House.

The procession traveling to the capital for the wedding had been delayed in Guazhou by several days of relentless rain.

The Guazhou Post House was a tranquil courtyard, usually reserved for receiving esteemed guests.

The entire arrangement here was refined and graceful, with a few banana plants sparsely planted in the courtyard by the window, their broad green leaves luxuriantly spread.

In the afternoon, Ye Rong sat by the open window, listening as the sound of rain seemed to gradually lessen. The soft patter of raindrops fell lightly among the branches and leaves, the faint, fragmented sounds trickling gently into her ears.

“Princess, today is the fifteenth. It looks like the rain will soon stop. The elders say there will still be a lantern festival in Guazhou tonight, and they say the lights will be magnificent.” The young maid, unaffected by the gloomy weather of recent days, spoke cheerfully, only to realize her mistake afterward. Hastily, she knelt on the ground. “Ah, this servant deserves punishment!”

The wind, still strong, blew accumulated raindrops off the leaves in the courtyard, scattering cold rain onto Ye Rong's arm, the touch of it like a sheet of ice on her skin.

Sitting quietly, she lifted her head to gaze at the sky she could not see. In her eyes, there was only an endless darkness.

An oppressive darkness that made one dizzy, an eternal blackness devoid of sunlight, weighed down upon her heart.

An unusual darkness—dark enough to hear the throb of her heart, the flow of her blood. A darkness that could drive a person mad.

The scattered raindrops, as they fell, seemed like the sky shedding tears on her behalf.

Finally, she let out a slow breath, waved her broad sleeve embroidered with gold, and said lightly:

“No matter, rise. I’d like to take a stroll too; it's been quite stifling on the way to the capital.”

“Yes, yes.”

The young maid jumped up from the floor, nearly clapping her hands in delight, her large eyes brimming with joy.

“Don’t alarm the guards. Let’s leave through the back gate.”

“This servant will prepare immediately.”

The young maid was almost bouncing as she headed to the door, but just as she reached it, she seemed to remember something and turned back.

A faint glimmer of sunlight filtered through the lush banana leaves in the dim twilight, dazzling her vision.

That slender figure—dressed in a dark robe, her dark hair cascading down—extended her arm out the window, the skin paler than snow.

As if sensing her gaze, Ye Rong’s dark eyes turned towards her, tranquil and deep as a secluded pool, narrowing slightly. Suddenly, the wind rose, and the rain flew in a swirl around her. Her sleeves fluttered, her dark robe accentuating her moonlit skin, a beauty beyond words.

In that instant, the young maid felt the silence so absolute that she could hear her own breath, the world reduced to nothing but those jet-black eyes, so pure that one dared not meet them.

At night, under Guazhou’s dark sky, the moon peered out from behind heavy clouds, pale like the face of a smoky, ethereal woman.

Mo Qiehuai, as usual, waited in a lavish room at the Drunken Red House, listening to music while waiting for Madam Gu to bring him a girl.

Finally growing impatient, he stood up and walked out.

Indeed, such a fine night without the company of a beauty seemed lacking.

He cast flirtatious glances at girls hardly deserving the description of beautiful, satisfied at the blush of admiration in their eyes, and ambled lazily away.

Passing by a room, he was startled by the sharp voice of Madam Gu.

“Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit!”

The intricately carved door of the private room was half-open. Instinctively, he peeked in and saw a middle-aged woman, thickly powdered and painted, with a bright red hand raised high, slapping a young girl to the floor.

He saw the girl on the ground raise her head slightly, her disheveled black hair hanging by her cheeks. Amidst the chaos of black and white, her strikingly beautiful face caught his eyes.

The girl, lying on the ground, wore a garish red dress that could not conceal her elegance. Her hair, dark as night, was a bit unkempt, with cheap hairpins still stuck in it. Her face, with those clear black eyes, stared straight at him. Her gaze, clear as water, held no trace of gloom, and beneath her left eye was a blue rouge blossom.

What a stunning face, he sighed inwardly.

“You'll pay for that slap.”

Her voice, elegant and gentle, held a calm yet firm iciness.

He paused, astonished—never expecting to encounter such a peerless beauty in this remote place of Guazhou!

He had truly underestimated this Drunken Red House.

“Madam Gu, such a beautiful woman, and you struck her so harshly. It pains my heart just to see it.”

He pushed open the door, his charming smile making Madam Gu feel momentarily dizzy.

“Oh my, Master Mo. This girl just arrived today... her name is... Rouge. She wouldn’t behave, you see…”

“Why worry? Leave her to me. A beauty should be coaxed, not treated roughly.”

“Well... then... I'll leave her to you. The rest of you, why are you still standing here? Leave at once.”

Once the people had left, the room fell silent, an atmosphere of tranquility filling the otherwise barely opulent space. On the intricately carved table, a bronze incense burner exhaled curls of aphrodisiac smoke, making the air seem as if it were veiled in mist.

The girl called Rouge still sat on the ground, her eyes unfocused.

The flickering candlelight illuminated her fair face, as white as carved jade, with a coldness akin to that of pearls.

In response to the sound of the door closing, her slender figure moved slightly, and then a voice as clear as moonlight resonated through the air.

“Who are you?”

“Well, well, I didn’t expect Madam Gu to be hiding such a beauty.”

Carefully observing that cold yet delicate face, like a lotus under the moon, Mo Qiehuai finally noticed something unusual after a long moment. He gently waved his hand before her glassy, luminous eyes, and as expected, they showed no reaction.

"You... cannot see." His usually flippant voice now carried a hint of caution.

"Yes, I am blind."

"Aiya, such a beauty, lovely as a flower, yet you cannot see the charming, handsome, unparalleled grace of this young master. Truly a pity."

Mo Qiehuai laughed with a near shameless arrogance, his smile revealing his white teeth. Standing next to the striking woman, his refined, handsome features seemed not at all dimmed by her radiance.

In high spirits, he watched the girl grope about to stand, and quickly extended his long, pale hand.

The instant her fingers touched the unfamiliar warmth, she fiercely flung his hand away, then suddenly smiled at him.

"Why did you save me?"

Mo Qiehuai found himself momentarily dazed, her smile as if it could steal one's very soul, captivating his heart.

Once more, he reached out and clasped her hand. Her skin was pale and smooth, soft beneath his grasp. Her crimson lips remained faintly upturned, and under the dim candlelight veiled by red gauze, her beauty became all the more ethereal and enchanting.

His heart skipped a beat. Mo Qiehuai pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

The warmth on her lips stunned her, and she swung her arm to deliver a sharp slap.

The contact stung his skin, the heat lingering on her palm, and she paused, surprised.

She hadn’t expected him to stay still, making no move to evade her blow.

Yet, he still smiled, catching her slender jade-like fingers, guiding them across his cheek to his lips, where he kissed and nibbled them gently.

"With such lovely, tender hands, dying by them would be worth it."