[The Palace of Ten Thousand Scales • The East Wing]
The night was as still as water. In the side hall, a single green-patterned Yao-lamp hung low, casting shadows that drifted like mist. Si Moheng sat alone at his desk, his dark robes still bearing invisible traces of blood. His fingertips slowly brushed over an object—a thin, feather-shaped amulet that Gu Xingyu had accidentally left behind. A stray strand of her hair was still caught in the threads.
He stared at it for a long time, his fingers trembling slightly before he finally cupped it in his palms, as if holding a fragment of soft light that didn't belong to him.
Her words still swirled in his mind:
"You aren't asking if I'll choose you. You are desperate for someone—just one person—to stand by you for who you are... not because of a seal or a bloodline, but simply because you are you."
When she looked at him, there was no fear—only something that felt like... pity.
Si Moheng closed his eyes, his palm tightening around the amulet. He could grip the metal, but he couldn't hold onto her words.
"You admire me, yet you imprison me. You seek possession, not understanding."
"You don't even have the courage to trust someone."
At the time, he had maintained his composure, countering her "naive faith" with cold logic. But now, those words felt like nails driven into his bone, aching day and night. It wasn't that he didn't want to trust; it was that he couldn't.
From the age of thirteen, blood and fire were his only languages. He remembered the death camps, the blood-stained wells, and the way his hands shook the first time he drove a blade into a man's chest. He hadn't dared to stop. To stop was to die.
He thought of his father, Si Chengjing, the Emperor who sat upon the high throne and had spoken only two sentences to him in private:
"Your value lies in your ability to kill."
"Remember, never let anyone know your name is Si."
He let out a bitter, silent laugh. What kind of upbringing was that? It was a cold-blooded law designed to turn a child into a tool. No one had ever told him, "It's okay to cry," or "You are worthy of love."
—Until she appeared.
[The Window of Solitude]
He stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the Yao Capital was a sea of a thousand lights, cold and brilliant—much like the world of power he had navigated since childhood. It was beautiful, but there was no corner in it that truly belonged to him.
His knuckles whitened as he whispered to himself, "Why did I have to meet you only now?"
He leaned his forehead against the window frame, his voice vibrating in his chest. "If it had been earlier... even a moment... if I had met you before I became this man... would my world not be just darkness? Could there have been a little light?"
A drop of moisture fell. Perhaps it was the start of the night rain, or perhaps a tear he refused to acknowledge.
He turned and tucked the amulet into the inner lining of his robe, close to his heart. The movement was gentle, almost as if he were comforting someone. He was not a man for repentance, nor was he one to easily let go of his grip on power. But her words had stayed. They were like a fire, slowly burning through the ice around his soul.
He craved a place in her heart. Not necessarily as a lover or a protector, but simply... to be remembered. A sliver of a memory in the night, where she might think of "the man who sat across from her in the dark and spoke the truth."
She was the first person to ever try to understand him. Even as his prisoner, she hadn't looked at him as a monster. If he changed nothing after meeting her, then he truly was nothing.
[The Order]
He opened a lacquer box and took out a jade command tablet engraved with ancient Yao-runes. He summoned his most trusted shadow guard, Lin Yi.
"Is it worth it, my Lord?" he whispered to himself. But her voice returned to him—not accusing, but compassionate.
"I don't want her to look at me with nothing but pity anymore," he muttered. He looked at Lin Yi. "Take this order to the Yao-Nan outposts. From this day forward... protect her."
Lin Yi was stunned. "Master... you want us to protect the Saintess?"
"I want you to protect her from anyone who would harm her," Si Moheng's voice was as steady as the falling rain. "Including myself."
[The Night Departure]
Si Moheng leaned against the window, the feather amulet tucked against his chest. Reason told him he had done enough. He had set up layers of protection around the Manor and prepared escape routes for her.
But he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know if she was safe. If she ever thought of him—or if she had already discarded him as a mere villain in her story.
"The first one to fall in love loses," he whispered with a self-mocking smile. He had taught his guards that "emotions are weakness, and desire is a fatal flaw."
Now, he was the one who had broken the rule.
He stood up and donned a dark traveling cloak. "Do not follow me," he commanded the shadows.
The wind whistled past the eaves as he vanished into the night. He wasn't going to monitor her, nor to scheme. He just wanted to see if she was well. If she was willing to give him even a single glance... he would allow himself this one luxury.