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The Beautiful Sky City
墨書 Inktalez
In the tenth year of the Emperor's reign, at the Kyoto Imperial Palace.
It was a grand occasion, as envoys from the Barbarian Nation had come to pay their respects, coinciding with the birthday of Empress Ya Xian. The palace was hosting a lavish banquet for the visitors. Not only had they invited the renowned Cloud Sleeve Troupe to perform, but the Emperor had also granted permission for the Minister of Winds to bring his family into the palace to pay their respects.
Feng Zhi Liu stood in the shadows of a tree, his gaze fixed intently on the Crown Prince not far ahead, not daring to let his attention waver for even a moment. His eyes reflected a mix of vigilance and focus.
Suddenly, Princess Duan Yang rose from her seat and seemed to glance in his direction, causing a flicker of movement in his eyes.
Yet, he remained as still as a statue, his posture upright like an ancient pine tree.
"The princess will be leaving the capital tomorrow. Aren't you going to say goodbye?" Ren Wangui's voice came softly from above, though it was clear and distinct in Feng Zhi Liu's ears.
"Your wife is about to give birth, yet I don't see you rushing back to her," Feng Zhi Liu replied coldly, though his gaze betrayed him as it followed Princess Duan Yang into a secluded area behind a rockery in the imperial garden. A slight furrow appeared on his brow, and concern flickered in his eyes.
"Don't worry. Although there are many people here today, the Imperial Guards are all stationed around the Emperor and the Crown Prince. You can go and come back without any trouble," Ren Wangui reassured him with genuine concern in his tone. "Tonight might be your last chance to see her!"
Feng Zhi Liu lowered his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. He remained silent for a long while, his expression complex and difficult to read.
In front of the main seat in the garden, the Crown Prince squinted slightly, his right hand tapping lightly on the table, lost in a state of bliss.
On the stage, the performer Shen Xinghan, dressed in elegant attire, waved her sleeves gracefully, her movements enchanting. Her singing was melodious and lingering, almost no one noticed the departure of Princess Duan Yang. The fragrant imperial wine wafted through the garden, creating a dreamy sense of ease as the aroma mingled with the sounds of silk and bamboo.
As he glanced at the seat where Princess Duan Yang had just sat, he thought of her stubborn nature. If he didn’t go to her, she might very well wait behind that rockery all night. Feng Zhi Liu's heart finally softened.
He cleared his throat softly, disregarding Ren Wangui's light-hearted chuckle, and quietly made his way to the edge of the palace wall, stepping lightly like a nimble cat. He discreetly turned toward the rockery.
However, just as he reached the corner in front of the rockery, he saw a woman with a panicked expression. Dressed in splendid garments, her face was pale with fear, and her steps were unsteady as if she were fleeing from something. He quickly hid in the shadows until her hurried footsteps faded away, leaving him with an increasing sense of confusion.
A flicker of suspicion crept into his mind, so much so that he failed to notice a branch behind him snagging the hem of his robe. With his next step, it made a distinct sound as if fabric were tearing.
A sudden pang struck his heart; this robe was made by her own hands. The embroidered bamboo on the torn hem was now split apart, and a flash of pain crossed his eyes.
Behind him, Pear Garden played music accompanied by the singer’s soft voice: “Only to see dark clouds dimming the sky, sorrowful apes lamenting, cuckoos calling bloodily, making one dread to listen…”
His thoughts stirred as he rushed toward their usual meeting place behind the rockery, his steps hurried and chaotic. The moonlight that had been hidden behind clouds seemed to sense his anxiety and unease, slowly breaking through to cast its gentle glow upon him.
On the dark grass lay a patch of wilted red.
She lay there on her back, adorned in a Branching Peony Palace Skirt woven with golden threads that barely covered her. Her bosom was partially exposed; hairpins and pearls scattered around her. With half-opened watery eyes, she gazed expressionlessly at the starry sky above while a faint smile lingered on her lips—a smile that carried an endless sorrow.
Yet her face was as pale as paper, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. To him, that smile sent chills down his spine, causing his body to tremble slightly.
"Princess!" He stepped forward, trying his best to remain calm, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed the shock in his heart, echoing sharply in the stillness of the night.
She slowly turned her head, gazing at the moon as if she could see him. A single tear, precariously hanging at the corner of her eye, finally fell, tracing a path down her pale cheek. In the next moment, just as he unexpectedly reached out to embrace her, she suddenly straightened up and smiled at him, a smile filled with determination.
Her seated posture was beautiful, seemingly unaware that the robe draped over her had slipped down to her waist. "If I think about it carefully, in my current state, it might be better to just say goodbye to you!"
With that, the woman he loved to the core unhesitatingly hurled herself against the nearby rockery. The speed of her movement left him no time to intervene.
In that instant, countless peach blossoms erupted, releasing a sweet and bloody fragrance; it felt as if his world had collapsed in that moment.
"No!" His eyes widened in disbelief as he stumbled back a few steps, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Pain and despair were etched across his face.
In the distance, on the stage, someone sang: " Ghostly Flame, Icy Glow, amidst the damp grass and scattered fireflies. I only regret hastily betraying you, betraying you! Alone in this world, I truly do not wish to live..."
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