He had given everything, only to be used as a scapegoat, like a lamb for slaughter, pushed out by an indifferent emperor.
Main character death (temporary).
That dream came again.
At the entrance of the market, the sound of children singing drifted into people's ears, mingling with laughter, shouts, and the noise of running and jumping. People came and went, all phantoms of illusion.
"One clap one, chaos in the Immortal Palace; One clap two, Qing Wang rebels; Two claps one, the emperor changes; Two claps two, the nation falls; Three claps one, the new lord is loathsome; Four claps one, the ministers resent; Five claps one, the bewitching concubine dies; Five claps two... the son kills the father!"
As the song ended, flames rose from all directions, igniting in the market and spreading through the gilded halls, eventually turning into a blazing inferno. The voices were cut off, leaving only the fire and suffocating heat.
Ning Shiting knelt before the king, a cup of poisoned wine before him.
The Wang’s steady, authoritative voice lingered in his mind: "In the future, the history books will say that my A’Ning, to quell the anger of the ministers, took his own life before the emperor. Your name will be recorded alongside mine... for all eternity!"
Ning Shiting looked up at the man before him.
Gu Feiyin, the Wang he had followed for ten years, the man he had admired all his life.
Ten years ago, he stood before him like this, promising in the same tone, "In the future, I will give you a grand wedding and a title. When I ascend the throne, you will be my empress. Our achievements... will be immortal!"
He obediently waited ten years, waiting for him to secure the kingdom.
But he did not marry him, giving the reason that—because he was only acting on behalf of the emperor and had not yet ascended the throne, he could not let him enter the palace as the empress in grandeur.
He also didn’t tell him that he already had a preferred empress candidate, a young fox clan boy he had protected and hidden away.
He knew about many things but pretended not to for ten years. His life was spent chasing after something lost, not exposing the truth because he couldn't afford to lose.
If he couldn’t stay here, then there would be no place for him in the entire world.
A mocking smile slowly spread across his face, not panicked, only coldly sarcastic.
Ning Shiting said softly, "In the future, the history books will say that Qing Wang’s unstable reign was all because of Ning Shiting's fox-like seduction."
His voice turned sharp and he said with a shrill laugh, "He deserves death!"
He had given everything, only to be used as a scapegoat, like a lamb for slaughter, pushed out by an indifferent emperor.
Gu Feiyin hadn’t touched him in all those ten years, yet others would think he had disrupted the court. No one was easier to deceive; a few sweet words, some unfulfilled promises, and he would willingly go through fire and water for him.
Twenty-two years of following, worshipping, countless sacrifices, false love and time, all buried in the cold annals of history, in unknown corners.
"Will you drink it or not‽"
Ning Shiting’s calmness finally made the emperor completely panic, utterly flustered, with eyes almost aflame.
"I raised you, saved you, brought you into the palace, all of Jizhou knows I favour you the most, I slacked off in the court for you—A’Ning!"
Seeing him unmoved, that voice finally turned into a roar.
"Drink it!"
His chin was grabbed, and the cold, strong wine was forcibly poured in, the pain almost instantly tearing through Ning Shiting's chest.
However, the man's voice and breath ceased at that moment—a golden arrow pierced his throat. The immense piercing force in that instant even dragged him half a chi(1) backwards!
Blood spurted out, and the man died without uttering a last word.
Ning Shiting's eyes widened slightly.
He was not shocked by the sudden event, but at the moment his voice fell, he crawled frantically over, screaming, "Not yours, not yours, I give my life back to you, if you hadn't taken me in, I would have died on the Jiaoren coast at five years old, when you wake up, I'll give my life back to you!"(2)
Twenty-two years.
How many twenty-two years are there in a lifetime?
Beautiful, tender cheeks stained with blood, nails embedded in flesh and bone, peeling away raw. He trembled all over, the belated vicious hatred pouring out in a frenzy at this moment.
How could he die with him?
Why should he die with him‽
Footsteps sounded behind him.
Someone dragged him back, holding him tightly in an embrace.
"Ning Shiting."
A familiar voice sounded.
He opened his eyes to look at him, but his vision had already darkened, unable to see anything. Blood rushed through his head, buzzing in his ears.
From a youth to a young man, Gu Tingshuang always spoke to him in this tone.
Light, vicious, with a youth's unique pride and gloom, only now the tone was much heavier.
He was not very familiar with him.
When he first entered the palace, Ning Shiting was seventeen, Gu Tingshuang was fourteen. That night, Gu Tingshuang drove him out of the new house because it was where his mother had lived.
Later, the two lived under the same roof, minding their own business, peacefully for several years.
Gu Tingshuang was always silent and cold. He was a gloomy youth in the dark corner, holding onto a wheelchair, standing straight.
Occasionally when their eyes met, Gu Tingshuang always turned his face away.
Later, Ning Shiting left Xianzhou. His impression of him remained only in the occasional mentions by officials—“The heir can barely walk,” “The heir moved out of the palace” …
The heir had grown up.
He couldn’t see, but he still felt this aura, recognising him.
Gu Tingshuang half-kneeled on the ground, holding him.
The once thin youth had become strong, his sharp eyes lowered, thinking something.
He didn’t speak, so he called his name again.
“Ning Shiting.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
The poison corroded his consciousness, his life ebbing away bit by bit.
Gu Tingshuang said, “You’re really pitiful, about to die, and still craving this bit of warmth. Has my father never held your hand?”
He spoke like this, but held him tightly, almost trembling slightly.
Holding him so close, it was still very warm.
“Look at me, can’t you see anymore?”
One sound after another, like a blunt knife cutting.
Was this hate? Did he think he took away his mother's love and disrupted his family; or did he hate him for shamelessly living under the same roof as an outsider?
Did he hate him for intruding into the darkest years of his life, feeling ashamed because of it? Even though only he knew it was fake, he had indeed disrupted Gu Tingshuang's peaceful years, occupied a corner of Qing Wang Palace, and intruded into his solitary time.
His lips moved, but his throat seemed frozen, unable to say a word. Exhausting his strength, no matter how many times this dream repeated, he still couldn’t make a sound.
Gu Tingshuang knelt on the ground, holding him tightly.
This was the closest they had ever been.
Until the person in his arms gradually cooled, a suppressed low sob finally escaped from his throat.
“Look at me... look at me, ah.”
The last bit of consciousness dissipated with these words, the gilded hall collapsed with a roar, the sky trembled, and cyan smoke rose instantly, the flames overwhelming. His brief life flashed before him, familiar and unfamiliar faces, his mentor’s grave face, the sound of wind blowing across the snowy borderland...all turned into powerful ghostly hands dragging him into a boundless hell.
Foot Notes
尺 (Chǐ) is a traditional Chinese unit measure based on the human forearm, sometimes likened to the “foot” in imperial measurements, it is equal to 10 cun or 1/10 zhang and in modern times is equivalent to 1/3 of a metre.
鲛人 (jiāorén) are the Chinese version of merfolk. The hanzi 鲛 (jiāo) is a dated word for “shark”, so more literally they are “shark people” and are generally not depicted as mesmerisingly beautiful as merfolk in Western Cultures. They may have legs in addition to a tail or only a tail and are known for their weaving skills as well as the ability to produce pearls from their tears.