Emperor Mao sipped from his tea, unshaken by the accusation. After a moment, he set the cup aside and finally spoke.
"I know how much he means to you," he said quietly.
"We're all worried. But I truly don't know where he is."
Khan Chi's eyes flickered, sharp and searching.
"Your younger brother traced his last known path. You scoured the capital yourself," Emperor Mao continued.
"Nothing turned up. That is the truth."
Khan Chi's shoulders remained rigid, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He shook his head once, barely.
"That doesn't make sense," he said hoarsely.
"He wouldn't just disappear. Not without telling me. Not without-"
He stopped, swallowing hard.
"Not without a reason."
Emperor Mao watched his son for a long moment before speaking again.
"None of us saw it coming. Emperor Yize vanished without warning. Left behind only a decree naming me as his successor. No explanation." His gaze drifted, unfocused.
"Even now, it feels like I'm walking through someone else's dream."
He gestured to the empty chair across from him.
Khan Chi hesitated for a moment before he finally sat. The tension drained from his limbs all at once, leaving him slumped, hollowed out.
He looked like a man who had long since outrun his strength and was only now realizing it.
"I thought you'd come tonight, to Yize's residence." Emperor Mao said gently.
"That's why I had food prepared. A hot bath and fresh clothes." His eyes flicked briefly to the red ceremonial hanfu.
"You're still wearing your wedding robes. You look like a groom who lost his way and never came home."
Khan Chi blinked, caught off guard.
"I didn't notice," he muttered.
"I just kept searching."
Emperor Mao huffed a soft chuckle.
"That tracks."
He pushed the plate of mooncakes closer.
"Eat. Rest, at least for a moment. If you're going to keep searching tomorrow, you'll need your strength."
Khan Chi stared at the food but didn't reach for it.
"What if I don't find him?" he asked quietly.
"What if he doesn't want to be found?"
The question lingered between them.
Emperor Mao rose from his seat and glanced around the pavilion, his expression softening.
"This place hasn't changed," he said.
"Yize always took care of it." He turned back to Khan Chi.
"I remember when you first met him, here. You grabbed a wooden sword from his hands and told him he'd never need to fear anything again, because you would protect him."
Khan Chi's lips pressed together. His eyes burned.
"I was a fool," he murmured.
"I thought being there was enough."
"You were a child," Mao replied gently.
"And then you became a man far too quickly."
He stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
"Tell me honestly," Emperor Mao said quietly.
"Do you truly believe I would steal Yize's throne for myself?"
The words struck harder than any accusation.
Khan Chi looked away.
"I don't want to believe it," he said after a moment.
"But everything happened so fast. He vanished. You ascended. And no one will tell me anything."
Emperor Mao exhaled slowly.
"I never wanted the title," he said.
"Your mother laughed when she heard. Told Adviser Mong every embarrassing story she could think of just to keep me grounded."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"That woman has no mercy."
Despite himself, a tired laugh slipped from Khan Chi's throat. The tightness in his chest eased, just a fraction.
Seeing his son's expression slowly calmed down. Emperor Mao nodded, satisfied.
"I'll give you two months," he said.
"Search wherever you wish. Ask whoever you must. But if you don't find him by then..." His voice softened.
"You'll need to let go. Let life carry you forward. Someone is still waiting for you. You are not alone."
Khan Chi lifted his gaze, eyes glassy.
"I don't know how," he admitted.
"If he's gone... I don't know who I am without him. I chose this path to protect him, to remain by his side as support, but somewhere along the way, that wasn't enough."
Emperor Mao squeezed his shoulder once.
"Aiyo... Yize is lucky to have a best friend like you," he muttered. Then, more firmly,
"And I'm proud of you."
He turned to leave.
"No one knows I came here," Emperor Mao added over his shoulder.
"Find him. Ask him what really happened. And be careful."
Khan Chi watched until his father disappeared down the garden path. His chest felt unbearably heavy, and yet, strangely, lighter all at once.
The wind stirred again.
Now alone in the pavilion, he remained seated, his gaze fixed on a single white tulip blooming among the others.
It had been Yize's favorite flower. He had tended it carefully, as though it were something precious, something living that needed protection.
Now it stood forgotten, left to wither without its caretaker.
Just like him.
Did Yize not trust him enough?
Why would he vanish without a word?
"Why..." Khan Chi whispered, the sound barely carried by the wind.
The mooncakes sat untouched, their warmth long gone.
After a long while, something shifted in his expression, like a memory slowly stirring awake.
He rose, crossed the pavilion, and knelt beside the flower. With careful fingers, he plucked the white tulip from the earth, holding it gently, as though afraid it might break.
Then, without another word, he turned toward Yize Xi's old chambers, intent on washing away the dust of five restless days, and the ache that clung stubbornly beneath his skin.