Chapter Text
Chu Wanning’s fingertips resembled red prunes by now, wet and wrinkled from soaking in the cold water so long. A group of washerwomen nearby chattered and laughed, trading gossip with each other while scrubbing and wringing their wet laundry. Chu Wanning remained silent and out of sight as he did his own work, hiding behind a large stone fixture of the palace. Every now and then he found himself listening in to their chatter, especially when the servants mentioned familiar names.
There were very few servants that came in and out of Chu Wanning’s residence, and he himself had been restricted to certain areas. It was during times like these that Chu Wanning heard any news outside of his cold palace.
Today he learned that Virtuous Consort had died. A maid claimed the emperor had gifted the owner of Xu Palace with a length of white cloth from which she hung herself, while another servant insisted the emperor had dirtied his own hands and cut the consort’s head from her shoulders. Either way, the fact remained that she was dead.
“I heard that Ye-fei kept a harem of kunze in her backyard,” one of the washerwomen said. “The emperor never visited her, so that’s how she kept it secret for so long. Rong-pin was the one who exposed it. He caught Ye-fei and one of her kunze together.”
Another shook her head. “Ye-fei was a qianyuan, so she had no restraint. Virtuous Consort indeed!”
“Everyone knew she disliked the emperor. I don’t know how she kept her title as consort for as long as she did.”
Chu Wanning frowned. It was correct that there was no love lost between Ye Wangxi and the emperor, however the Ye Wangxi that he had known was not a lustful woman. She was well-tempered and serious, certainly not the type of consort to be hiding a number of kunze in her palace.
She had most likely fallen for someone’s schemes. If it was truly Rong Jiu who had ‘exposed’ her secret, then this only strengthened Chu Wanning’s belief that Ye Wangxi was not guilty. Chu Wanning had experienced Rong Jiu’s methods personally. The Imperial Concubine helped to sharpen the wedge that grew between Chu Wanning and the emperor, lodging it firmly in place. The zhongyong’s movements had always been suspicious, but Chu Wanning had never been given the opportunity to prove them.
Chu Wanning wondered if Rong Jiu would go after Jiang-fei or Nangong-fei next. After all, the Imperial Concubine seemed to be making his way through the consorts. Or perhaps he’d aim straight for the top this time, Chu Wanning thought. Was it possible he would go against Empress Song? He narrowed his eyes at the thought, grip on his wet garments loosening.
If he did, he would lose.
The emperor had a love-hate relationship with his empress, treating her harshly one second and lovingly the next. Yet whenever he found himself stuck between choosing the empress or another member of his harem, he would choose the empress every time. This hard truth had been beat into Chu Wanning, over and over again. He had no trust that the emperor would ever take his side. Those beliefs had been plucked out of him long ago, taken with his fingernails. Empress Song was the mother of this nation, the legal wife qualified to stand by Taixun-jun’s side, and anyone else in the harem remained a mere decoration.
Chu Wanning hit his laundry particularly hard on the next smack, a dark cloud coming over his features.
The washerwomen nearby continued to prattle on about other happenings in the palace, though most of them were boring or too childish to even entertain. The only other thing of note they happened to mention were talks of skirmishes along the northwest border with the Turkic Khaganate, perhaps a sign of larger battles in the future. His former disciple Xue Meng had been stationed in that area. If war ever broke about, it would be Xue Meng who led the empire's forces. Chu Wanning had do doubt he'd be successful.
Having finished wringing out his pile of laundry, which was a mere mound compared to the washerwomen's many mountains. Chu Wanning gathered it into his basket to take with him and hang at his residence. He began to walk back, but one of the women spoke up while he was still in earshot.
“Red Lotus Pavilion is being renovated right now. I was told it’s for a new concubine - a special one.”
Chu Wanning froze.
“Oh? Who is it?”
“It’s so romantic! Apparently the emperor has found his childhood sweetheart, the one that he’s always been searching for. Years ago, they used to be a servant in the palace until one day…”
Red Lotus Pavilion? A childhood sweetheart? His eyes dulled. There was only one person who that could be.
How pleased the emperor must be.
The women were gossiping, idle chatter at that. So why were the words so sharp, barbed with points that stuck him one after the other? Chu Wanning’s heart felt so heavy and weak, a dulled, bleeding thing, and he gritted his teeth, feeling a sense of righteous indignation.
It could have been anywhere else! He just had to rub salt in the wound. Chu Wanning huffed as he continued on his way, stewing in resentment all the while. The Red Lotus Pavilion had been his palace while he was a favored consort. It housed so many memories between him and the emperor, and yet now it was to be torn down and built anew, all for the emperor’s precious Shi Mei. Surely the emperor had done that on purpose, agitating Chu Wanning one final time with such a decision. Because if he hadn’t...if hadn’t done it on purpose...that would mean he hadn’t thought of Chu Wanning at all.
Chu Wanning looked up and stared at the dilapidated sign above his own palace. There weren’t too many complaints about his new residence simply because he was still given food to eat and a roof over his head. It was rather cold in the winter months, and he had a lot more work to do, but as long as he stayed away from the other concubines, he found his life was rather pain-free. Which was important. He’d been careful not to strain himself these past few months, afraid any stress might affect the little one’s health.
Chu Wanning placed his basket of clothes down and started to hang them up to dry, pausing to place a gentle, tremoring hand upon his stomach. It was rather hard to see, a barely there baby bump. He was six months along, but Chu Wanning knew it was a miracle he’d made it past the first three months.
Those first few months had been awful, adjusting to his new diet - or a lack of one - and all of the work that had to be done. He wished Luo Xianxian had still been around so he could confide in her. She would’ve been the only one he would have told. She’d always gifted him good luck charms and herbal tonics after the emperor visited, hoping that Chu Wanning might conceive.
“It’s important you have a child, Chu-fei,” Luo Xianxian had said. “The emperor’s love might not be forever, but a child’s will be.”
Chu Wanning hadn’t taken her words very seriously back then, partly because of how infatuated he had been and partly because of his own belief that he was infertile. He’d repressed his heats for so long he hadn’t thought it could be possible, but Luo Xianxian had kept hoping all the same. His maidservant was afraid that he would one day end up withering away alone as so many flowers did before him.
Chu Wanning was alone now - just as she’d feared - although things wouldn’t stay that way for much longer. Just a few more months and the little one would be here. He rubbed his stomach gently, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling well up inside of him.
He haphazardly hung up the rest of his laundry, feeling worn out. He wheezed a little as he made his way back to his room. Most of his energy was conserved and fed to the little one, a typical kunze reaction during pregnancy he believed. Because of this, he had lost weight rather than gained it. The one time that Chu Wanning had caught sight of himself in the mirror, he’d looked more frightening and ugly than usual, his features gaunt and his skin sagging with bloodshot eyes. If the emperor were to see him now...he probably wouldn’t even recognize him.
The emperor, the emperor, the emperor. Chu Wanning tried not to think of his name, refused to think of him as anything besides an abstract concept. He hated being reminded of those short-lived, happy days with him. He hated being reminded of his own failure. That man was nothing more than a memory, a fragment of the past tucked away in a chest and hidden from view. If Chu Wanning were to ever bring those treasures out to revisit and admire, he’d be cut by them so deeply he’d bleed out.
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of such depressing thoughts. Part of the reason he looked so awful was because he wasn’t getting enough nutrients in his meals. The kitchen workers were stingy enough the way it was, but he couldn’t insist on more rations without explaining why. He refused to let anyone know he was pregnant.
Luo Xianxian was dead now, the only person in this place he could have possibly trusted, so no one would know. Simple as that.
He was an unfavored consort which meant he had no one protecting him. If word got out he was pregnant - the first concubine to have conceived, at that - things would play out in two ways. First, they would force him to abort it. Perhaps an open, public thing where they beat the child out of him , or even just a small, discreet order to mix abortifacients in with meals. It would be far too easy to simply make it so his child didn’t exist.
Second, even if he did make it to full term, if he gave birth safely to a happy, healthy child...as soon as the child was discovered it would be taken from him. A wounded, possessive feeling welled up inside of him at the thought, whining in protest. Most likely they’d give his baby to the empress, the legal wife who had no children of her own.
Chu Wanning would be alone again. He would probably never see his child again. He wondered if Empress Song would torture a child because it was Chu Wanning’s flesh and blood. The woman had treated him so horribly that it was only fair to expect a child of his would suffer the same fate.
His child was doomed to suffer in this palace.
“I’ll keep you safe,” Chu Wanning murmured out loud, feeling awkward as soon as he did so, his cheeks turning red. A part of him wondered if he could even fulfill that promise to his child, or if he was doomed to fail once more in protecting a loved one.
He scolded himself for such a depressing thought. He tried to discourage himself from thinking such negative things, but in his situation it was hard not to. With a sigh, Chu Wanning walked back to his room, feeling rather worn out. If he still had his cultivation, he would surely have more energy.
He laid down on his pallet, feeling the straw itch and prod at his skin. His back muscles groaned in protest, and his eyelids felt heavier than usual. Chu Wanning knew he should get up, that he needed to find something to eat, but he was far too tired. The exhaustion finally won out, and he closed his eyes, lulled into a temporary peaceful sleep.
The pain started in the middle of the night. He awoke to a torment in his stomach. It came quickly and fiercely, a sudden twisting to Chu Wanning’s insides that refused to let go. He clutched at his small bump, wheezing as the agony continued to assault him. Throwing off the threadbare bed sheets, Chu Wanning found his nightgown stained a blinding red.
“Ah,” he let out a sort of strangled gasp. “Ah!”
He was bleeding, thighs caked with some other fluid as well, but it was far too early for this to be labour pains. It was a sign of a crueler affliction than that. As his insides continued to pinch and pull themselves, Chu Wanning leaned back, bracing himself on the bed.
Should I push? Am I miscarrying? Chu Wanning had no idea. Though he was a kunze, he was a far cry from a midwife. He couldn’t tell what his body was trying to tell him to do or what was happening.
A sharp stab seemed to split open his lower half. “Someone -” Chu Wanning cried helplessly, hunched over on his side. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, stopping himself before the rest of the words could leave his mouth.
Someone...someone come..
His loyal maid Luo Xianxian had already passed away, a victim of palace schemes. Anyone else instructed to serve by his side had left half a year ago, fleeing as soon as Chu Wanning had fallen out of favor with the emperor. He was sent servants now and then to watch over rather than serve him, but they all scurried away as soon as they could. Chu Wanning was currently waited on by one eunuch, though he only came weekly when he had to deliver supplies or rations to his residence. There was no one left by Chu Wanning’s side.
Even if Chu Wanning shouted and screamed, no one could hear him. Even if they did, no one would come. Such was the fate of an unloved kunze who’d been left to wither and rot.
Chu Wanning took a deep breath, his chest rattling, and slowly laid his head back down. He raised his shaky legs to plant the soles of his feet firmly on his bed, and he tried to bear the torment.
“Mo Ran,” he found himself calling anyways, voice helpless and scared. “Mo Ran!”
If he could just see him one more time...perhaps it wouldn’t hurt as much.
It was an excruciating thing. He felt as if his insides were being scraped out, as if an important part of himself had been torn away, and now he was left with an awful emptiness inside.
Chu Wanning’s breathing exercises turned into soft little pants. He bit his dry, cracked lips hard enough that he tasted blood, and a heaviness began to settle on his eyelids.
Ah, he thought, whimpering. So this is it.
His hands fisted into the bedsheets in both frustration and agony. It wasn’t fair. Not at all. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, spilling down without a care.
Chu Wanning wanted to have this child. He wished to make his own little world in this old residence, a place for just the two of them. He would hold the little one in his arms and softly trace their delicate features, looking for any likeness they shared with their sire. Chu Wanning was guilty of hoping the child looked like Mo Ran. They would have an easier life if they weren’t ugly like Chu Wanning. It would be good if they smiled a lot, too. The complete opposite of himself. It would be great if they smiled with that same dimpled smile…
Another stab of pain ripped Chu Wanning out of his daydreams and planted him back in reality, for those sorts of thoughts were impossible now.
Mo Ran, I’ve failed you yet again, Chu Wanning thought. I really am a useless kunze. I couldn’t even properly give birth.
He began to feel very cold, but dimly blamed it on the brazier dying out. He would have to ask Luo Xianxian to refill it when she came back from getting their allowance. It had taken her an awful long time. She hadn’t been back in so long...Oh. Ah.
He would be meeting her soon, it seemed.
If I could go back...if I had another chance..I would try my best not to disappoint you, Mo Ran.
If I could only see your face, as you were before it all went wrong...
All things considered, it wasn’t very dramatic.
Chu Wanning died alone, curled up on his bed with his arms wrapped tight around his stomach. One corpse, two lives.
A quiet, painful death.
It wasn’t until two days later that he was found by a eunuch, arriving on orders from Taxian-jun to summon Chu-fei at once.
But it was too late.
His Chu-fei was gone.
He’d been drowning for so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to breathe. After what seemed like an endless struggle with dark, surging waves, he finally broke the surface. One moment there was a tightness in his chest, an ever-present sense of panic crushing him, and yet the next moment, he felt a sweet ache of relief, cool air finally filling his lungs.
Chu Wanning’s eyes shot open and he sat up, gasping for air. His hands flew to his throat instinctively, to see if anything had wrapped around his throat. Upon finding nothing, he glanced down.
The blood on his thighs had been cleaned up, his sheets changed for new, and his stomach was flat.
He lost the child.
Of course.
His eyes stung, and he bit his lip hard, if only to stop the wail that threatened to spill from his throat. Chu Wanning laid back down, slowly turning over and wrapping his arms around his midsection.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t do anything right.
Fat tears slid down his cheeks, and he sniffled, nose full of snot. He allowed himself to just lay there, alone in his misery for those few moments. He mourned his baby, mourned the loss of what Mo Ran had given him.
“This servant greets Concubine Chu,” a sweet, clear voice said.
Chu Wanning froze. He barely dared to believe it. That voice sounded just like her, but she’d been dead for months now.
Luo Xianxian knelt by his bedside, head pressed against the floor.
“You…” Chu Wanning trailed off, at a loss for words.
Luo Xianxian raised her head slightly, still refusing to meet his eyes. “This servant’s name is Luo Xianxian. I will be serving Your Highness starting today.”
What? Why was she acting as if they were meeting for the first time?
“Am I dead?” Chu Wanning asked, voice hoarse. He stared at Luo Xianxian fervently, tracing over every inch of her features.
Luo Xianxian blinked, her face paling. She rose and quickly began to look over Chu Wanning’s body, as if worried she might find an injury.
“What’s wrong, Your Highness? Do you remember what happened?”
When her hands touched his forehead to check for a fever, Chu Wanning caught her delicate wrist and squeezed gently. He could touch her. She felt solid. Real. Luo Xianxian’s concern only seemed to deepen, a frown forming on her face at his actions.
Chu Wanning let go. “No...I don’t really remember anything. Tell me.”
Something stung at his eyes. He refused to let the tears fall in front of Luo Xianxian. She was alive, living and breathing before him once more.
“Your Highness nearly drowned after saving a minister’s daughter who fell into the Eastern Palace’s pond. Your legs were caught by something and you couldn’t get out. All the other consorts - they just stood there, watching and laughing! If it hadn’t been for Ye-fei’s servant running into the emperor when she went for help, Your Highness could have died!”
Something nudged at his memories, a recollection from a time long ago.
.
.
His lungs filled with water. He could feel himself choking on it, spitting and sputtering as he tried to swim upwards toward the surface, but something was holding him back, yanking and pulling him down.
The next moment he felt something warm and solid wrap around his waist, tugging and lifting him up. He finally broke the surface, gasping for air as he wrapped his arms around his savior instinctively, shivering. Whoever held him tightened their grip as they lifted him out of the water, a hold so strong it was almost painful. Almost.
Chu Wanning looked up at his savior, ready to thank them, but the words of gratitude died on his tongue as soon as he met those dark, piercing eyes.
“Shizun,” Taxian-jun greeted, droplets of water running down his face, headdress askew and robes soaked. “Are you so eager for death?”
Chu Wanning looked away, unable to meet the emperor’s probing stare. He felt the tips of his ears turning red and hoped that Taxian-jun would not notice. The emperor’s eyes raked over him, his stare like burning hot coals.
Chu Wanning felt the emperor lean in, felt his hot breath spill across his ear. “I wonder...were you afraid I would flip your nameplate tonight? Worried you’d be sullied by your former disciple? Perhaps you hoped to die as some holy Buddha, hmm?”
Something sharp stung Chu Wanning’s ear, and he yelped, feeling a warm liquid drip down his skin.
The emperor pulled back, licking his bloody lips. “I won’t let you, Chu Wanning.”
Chu Wanning felt his entire body start to heat up, a typical reaction to the presence of a qianyuan. He ignored it. “There was a little girl,” he said, indignant. “I had to save her.”
Taxian-jun simply stared at him. “Of course you did. My proud, noble shizun.”
His calloused thumb traced over Chu Wanning’s cheek delicately, and the emperor looked down, gaze seemingly fixed on the kunze’s chest.
Chu Wanning looked down and flushed an even darker shade of pink. Even though the decree this morning titled him a cairen, a consort of talents within the emperor’s harem, Chu Wanning had not dressed any differently than he usually did. His white robes were not meant for swimming, and right now they left very little to the imagination in regards to his figure.
He covered his chest with his arms, glaring up at the emperor. “Stop staring,” he gritted out.
Taxian-jun grinned wolfishly and pinched one of his cheeks. “Why should I? You are mine now. I’m free to look as I like.”
“And everyone else?” Chu Wanning glanced at the surrounding court ladies and servants.
The emperor cradled Chu Wanning close to his chest, glancing up at the crowd of onlookers. “Leave us,” he said.
They scurried off quickly at his command, leaving Taxian-jun and Chu Wanning alone. The two remained there for what felt like hours, but what was more like mere minutes. They merely sat there in silence, intertwined in an embrace.
The emperor broke the silence first, pulling away from Chu Wanning. “You need to change your clothes,” he murmured. “Before you catch a cold.”
Chu Wanning felt himself nod, and he opened his mouth to say something but his words were soon blocked by Taxian-jun’s lips pressing firmly against his own. It was nothing like his first kiss years ago, clumsy and chaste, a symbol of an innocent first love. No, this one was messy and wet, an all-consuming fire that threatened to devour him whole. Taxian-jun took and took and took, leaving Chu Wanning a flustered, breathless mess.
At dinner, Taxian-jun did just as he’d threatened, flipping Chu Wanning’s nameplate and taking him for the first time that night. Taxian-jun, having believed he was a zhongyang, had been quite surprised upon discovering his kunze features. The experience was a painful, bloody thing. Chu Wanning remembered feeling a myriad of emotions, grief and self-hatred being the strongest of them all, and yet despite that there had been a guilty, ugly part of him delighted to be fucked by his former disciple.
Of course, they fought over what had happened the next morning, over the incident at the pond. Taxian-jun had words to say about Chu Wanning jumping into the water, quite displeased at the risks his concubine was willing to take in order to save someone he deemed insignificant. Chu Wanning had been angered by the emperor’s disregard for life, and he had furiously stated that as long as he was able to save someone else, he would put himself in harm’s way, again and again.
It had been the wrong thing to say. The emperor gifted Chu Wanning two shiny bracelets, manacles that sucked the cultivation from his veins, and Chu Wanning lost his golden core.
“This is your punishment, Chu Wanning,” Taxian-jun had growled once confronted. He made quick work to strip Chu Wanning and held him down over his desk as he fucked him. “Remember that you are in no position to help anyone. You can’t even help yourself.”
It was then that things started to go so wrong, that Chu Wanning realized the extent of what had happened to his former disciple, and yet without his cultivation, he had no way of fixing it.
.
.
Chu Wanning pulled himself from his memories. That incident had happened on the first day Taxian-jun declared he was to become a cairen.
Three years ago.
“The emperor,” he said, voice faint. “He saved me?”
Luo Xianxian nodded her head eagerly. “Yes! He was quite worried about you. You were barely breathing, and you’ve been unconscious for a whole day now.”
Chu Wanning glanced down and saw no bracelets around his wrists. His fingers pressed against the veins of his wrist, checking for the pleasant hum of his golden core, and he let out a sigh of relief upon feeling that thrum answer him. He still had his cultivation.
Was it truly possible then?
That he was born again three years ago, before he lost his cultivation, before he’d gained the attention of the emperor only to lose it.
He covered his face with his hands, overcome with emotion. The last three years were nothing but a dream now. He had a chance to do things differently, for his future and Mo Ran’s future to turn out differently.
Mo Ran, he thought. Is it possible that I can save you?
It didn’t matter if it was truly possible or not. Chu Wanning would never give up on Mo Ran.
And now that he still had his cultivation...he could try to remove that deep-seeded resentment from Mo Ran’s heart.
If it was possible, if he could truly accomplish such a thing - Chu Wanning was willing to trade all the cultivation he had for such a miracle. He would no longer need it after that, since he had already lost the title of Yuheng Elder as soon as the emperor declared him a cairen. Even once he accomplished his goal and removed the poison, he could not leave the palace. If he tried, he had no doubt that Taxian-jun would hunt him down and cut off his legs to prevent any more attempts. It had been one of the emperor’s many threats in his last life.
So Chu Wanning resigned himself to the fate of a concubine, however he vowed to live this life differently from the last. In the darkest part of his heart, he himself knew that he had never truly pushed the emperor away when he came to Red Lotus Pavillion. He flushed at the memory of how shameless he’d been, putting up very little protest in the face of the emperor’s affections before ultimately succumbing.
This time, Chu Wanning refused to be swayed. He would avoid the emperor at whatever costs necessary and live out the rest of his days quietly, peacefully. Just another faceless flower of the harem.
It was the only sure way to fight his fate.
Chu Wanning lifted his face from his hands, meeting Luo Xianxian’s worried gaze with a determined look.
“Do not tell anyone I have woken up,” he urged quietly. “Not yet. Some of the eunuchs and maids have probably already heard us talking, so just act as though I fell unconscious again. I’m not feeling well at all.”
“Your Highness.” Luo Xianxian fidgeted, eyes darting away from him.
Chu Wanning grabbed her hands, looking at her rather beseechingly. “Please. This is the one favor I shall ask of you. I need to do my best to avoid the emperor.”
Luo Xianxian perked up. “Are you trying to get his attention?”
Chu Wanning paused, confused at her train of thought. “The opposite,” he said. “I don’t want to become favored. I just want to live a long, peaceful life. I don’t wish to see the emperor anytime soon.”
The reasoning was solid, so why did it make his chest ache?
Luo Xianxian was a smart girl. She’d worked in the palace for a few years now, and so she knew the harsh reality of such a life. She didn’t take much more convincing before she agreed to his request.
“When will you be well again ?” Luo Xianxian asked, bowing her head.
“I’ll let you know. But also, let me know where the emperor is spending the night tonight. I want to make sure he’s spending time with the other concubines instead,” Chu Wanning lied.
He really didn’t want to know that information, but he had to know where the emperor would be tonight. In the past when other concubines had flaunted their gifts or love bites in his face, he’d become so unbearably angry. He hated that he wasn’t pretty enough, that he wasn’t interesting enough to hold Mo Ran’s attention for very long at all.
Yet he still welcomed the emperor back into his own bed every time, a futile attempt to keep him by his side.
He knew his thoughts were not virtuous, but he could not help it. He was a jealous, selfish creature by nature, not anything like what a proper kunze should be. A respectable kunze would have encouraged any attempt to grow the family lineage, even if that meant their qianyuan had mated another kunze.
Chu Wanning would have to purge himself of those lingering, possessive feelings.
If there was anything that he had learned in his last life, it was that the emperor was not - and would never be - his.
Luo Xianxian did just as he asked, reporting that the emperor had not flipped a nameplate at dinner. Taxian-jun planned on retiring to his own chambers after he finished with the day’s paperwork, too busy to deal with the distractions of his harem.
It was such a perfect opportunity, one that might not come for another month or two. Chu Wanning knew he could not pass it up.
Later that night, while the rest of the palace was sleeping, Chu Wanning crept out under the cover of darkness. He wore the plain grey robes of a typical palace guard that Luo Xianxian had found for him. The guards on duty weren’t the most vigilant, and Chu Wanning clicked his tongue in disapproval once he knocked yet another soldier out with a quick hit to a nerve in their neck. Though it worked in his favor that none of the guards had any form of cultivation, he worried that anyone with sinister intentions could sneak by and harm the emperor.
He set his concerns aside and slowly snuck into the emperor’s chambers. Chu Wanning’s footsteps were silent. No sound escaped him as he entered and made his way closer to the emperor, who slept on his bed surrounded by dark, silky curtains.
Mo Ran’s features were indistinguishable from behind the curtains, his form nothing more than a shadow. It was only once Chu Wanning gently parted the curtain that he could see the familiar slope of his nose, his slender brows and strong jaw. He always looked so peaceful when he was asleep. It was as if the hate and the anger had been drained from Mo Ran, and he was once more that smiling youth.
Chu Wanning ached at the sight, longing to reach out with his hand and trace those features, to feel Mo Ran’s warm skin against his own -
He stilled, grabbing his own hand before it could touch and pulling it back, as if burned. Chu Wanning took a deep, silent breath. His ears were surely red by now, and he felt ashamed of himself, of his despicable yearning for this man.
That man was once a boy. A tender-hearted boy who had reached his hand out to Chu Wanning, trusting the cultivator to guide and teach him, to protect him.
He would finally fulfill that duty now.
Chu Wanning steadied himself, eyes narrowed in concentration as he brought his fingers together to gather energy. He hesitantly probed around in the area of the emperor’s chest, looking for the source of Mo Ran’s torment. It took him a few tries, but he finally found where the Long Hatred Flower had taken root.
If he had been looking at Mo Ran’s face, he would have surely seen the twitching of the emperor’s lips, the flutter of his eyelids.
In a split second, Chu Wanning dug his fingertips into the emperor’s chest, right over his heart, and pulled.
Hot, hot, hot!
It burned so badly, so fiercely that Chu Wanning felt as if he were being flayed alive. He heard screaming, awful guttural sounds all around him, bursting his eardrums. The flower attacked, trying to get him to let go, to leave it behind. A black, bubbling darkness spread from his hands, creeping up his arm and heading straight to his heart.
Chu Wanning wouldn’t let it. With a hiss, his grip on the flower only squeezed harder, then he pulled it out - root and stem. He held it in his hand for a moment, staggering backwards away from the bed. Chu Wanning glanced at the ugly thing in his hand, a dying, wheezing flower, oozing with black puss. Such a small thing had been responsible for corrupting his disciple’s soul.
Chu Wanning crushed it without a second thought, then purified its remains with fire. The ashes fizzled and faded into nothing, dispersed as if the Long Hatred Flower had never even existed.
But the proof of it would continue to remain.
Chu Wanning hurried to examine Mo Ran, to see what damage the removal caused.
The emperor clutched at his chest, eyes bleary as he stared at Chu Wanning, an ugly scowl forming on his face.
“You!” he started, trying to sit up, then choked on the blood he spat out.
The removal had been a bloody thing, and it left a gaping hole in Mo Ran’s chest, one that was taking too long for Chu Wanning’s liking to close. Mo Ran could normally heal himself rather easily when it came to minor injuries, but this wound had been festering for years, and the poison had not been removed completely. So much of Mo Ran had been eroded, chipped away and destroyed - it was most likely that some parts of him would never return.
Chu Wanning helped the emperor to lie back down. He hushed him and very gently covered Mo Ran’s eyes with his hand. “Mo Ran, it was I...who wronged you. So please, just treat this as nothing more than a dream.”
He removed his hand, only to press a bloodstained fingertip to the Mo Ran’s brow.
An attempt to seal his memories.
Mo Ran grabbed his wrist, crushing it in his grip. “Chu Wanning!” he snarled viciously. “Don’t you dare - “
His words died off, and he fought against it once more, before he ultimately succumbed, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Mo Ran’s hand fell to the side, limp.
It took a moment for Chu Wanning to gather himself. He felt so drained, so hollowed out and weak. It was the same sort of feeling he felt in his last life, dying alone in bed. He staggered out into the hallway.
“Come! Someone come! Mo Ran,” he bit his tongue, “ - the emperor has…!”
It was enough. Just as the doors to the emperor’s palace were thrown open, Chu Wanning faded back into the shadows, stumbling his way back to his own residence.
He had faint memories of his journey there. Most of it was a blur. The most important thing was that he successfully made it back without encountering anyone.
As Chu Wanning collapsed in bed, feeling chills spread throughout his body, he came to the realization that Luo Xianxian would no longer need to lie about him not being well for the next few days.
Now it was the truth.
The emperor was bedridden for three days, fighting a horrible fever. Luo Xianxian later told Chu Wanning that he and the emperor had spent the same amount of time unconscious, with both of them awakening on the fourth and final day of illness. That was how long it took for Chu Wanning to come back to his senses, frail and dizzy from the backlash of the flower.
When he heard the news that the emperor was well now, Chu Wanning worried that he might come to his residence and pester him. His greatest fear was that Mo Ran would know of what Chu Wanning had done and blame him for taking so long to rid the sickness in his chest.
But he had nothing to fear.
The memory seal worked.
Mo Ran did not come to him. For the first few days after the emperor recovered, there were no movements within the harem. Certainly not any in the direction of Chu Wanning’s tiny courtyard. When Mo Ran did begin to visit concubines again, he sought out Imperial Concubine Rong and Empress Song.
It was as if the emperor had forgotten that he granted his old shizun a title, as if he had forgotten that Chu Wanning even existed.
It was for the best. Chu Wanning reasoned that this was exactly what he intended for his new life. So why did it hurt so much?
Even in the past, Mo Ran had not needed a memory seal to forget him. Chu Wanning was an ugly creature, an unappealing, sharp rock compared to the lovely flowers of the harem. He lacked both beauty and scent, still suppressing his kunze nature with his cultivation. His first night with Mo Ran had never happened in this timeline, and so the emperor hadn’t discovered his new concubine to be a kunze instead of a zhongyong.
It was in Chu Wanning’s best interests that the emperor remained unaware. He would only end up hurt again, tossed away by the qianyuan once he was done with him.
He knew that what little attraction the emperor had for him was reliant on his kunze nature and the sweet scent that clung to his skin. Chu Wanning had been a temporary distraction, a plaything with which to vent more violent desires. In his last life, Taxian-jun’s affections had returned to the other concubines once he grew tired of his old, ugly shizun. He came to Red Lotus Pavillion less and less, until he visited for the very last time - the day they had fought.
They fought over the bowl of wontons that Chu Wanning had prepared for the emperor. Looking back, it had been nothing more than an afterthought, an opportunity for Chu Wanning to prepare food for his qianyuan like a good kunze should. So why did the sight of a mere dish send Taxian-Jun into such a rage, so much that he threw the bowl of wontons at Chu Wanning’s feet?
Chu Wanning used to think he could read the emperor’s moods. He understood that when the emperor acted out so violently like this, it was not because he was a violent person, but because his soul had been corroded by the flower rooted in his heart.
Yet this time...Chu Wanning’s hands had shook as he struggled to pick up the shattered glass from the floor, unaware of the pain that pricked his fingers as each piece sliced his skin. It was not Mo Ran’s fault. He could not be blamed. He was only -
“Shizun, I really, really hate you,” Taxian-jun said, voice strained.
A hand reached out, fingers carding through silky, black hair.
The emperor yanked him up from the ground by his hair, ignoring the hiss of pain that escaped Chu Wanning, blind to the tears that slid down his cheeks.
“You should have known your place,” Taxian-jun hissed, leaning down. “You are nothing. You are no one. All of you - every single one - you imitate him in every little thing you do, hoping you might coax me in with memories! I’m not a fool. I see through every trick, every whorish gesture.”
He tossed Chu Wanning aside, who barely managed to catch himself before he hit the floor. Chu Wanning felt as if his head were splitting in two. A ringing had started that wouldn’t stop, and his chest felt so tight he could barely breathe.
Chu Wanning now knew why the bowl of wontons had angered the emperor. He pressed his forehead against the floor, feeling himself shake silently. How could he have forgotten?
He clenched his hands into fists as Taxian-jun called for a eunuch to come inside Red Lotus Pavillion and write his royal edict. The shards of glass in his palms only dug in deeper as each word stabbed him.
“Worthy Consort Chu has aspired above his station and displeased the emperor,” Taxian-jun declared, something akin to mirth in his voice. “He is to be demoted to cainu and confined to a cold palace in order to reflect on his actions.”
Slowly, Chu Wanning raised his head, eyes moving up until he met the emperor’s dark, angry gaze. Chu Wanning glared back viciously.
It wasn’t fair. Not fair at all. The emperor hadn’t even given him a chance to explain before throwing him away.
How easy it was for him.
It was the last time he had seen Mo Ran. Would it be the last time for both lifetimes?
Chu Wanning’s eyes stung at the memory, and he rubbed at his chest to assuage the burning pain. He seemed sure it would fade away soon enough, just like his feelings. The more time passed, the easier it would be to forget.
He had the comfort of a concubine, but none of the pain. What more could he ask for?
A few days passed and Chu Wanning found himself rather bored. Luo Xianxian attempted to teach him embroidery to pass the time, but all of his efforts ended horribly.
“Oh, Your Highness! What an adorable cat!” Luo Xianxian praised his work.
“It’s a flower,” Chu Wanning said.
“Forgive me, Chu-cairen!” Luo Xianxian knelt down, forehead knocking against the floor. “This servant deserves death!”
Chu Wanning quickly helped her up, alarmed at how earnestly she apologized. “I’ve told you before, Luo Xianxian,” he said, brows furrowed. “There is no need for such apologies when you have done nothing truly deserving of death.”
“Of course, Your Highness!” Luo Xianxian nodded her head quickly. “This servant will keep your words in mind.”
Chu Wanning didn’t have much faith that she would stop with the constant apologies. In his last life, it took a full year before Luo Xianxian warmed up to him.
“There’s no hope for me in this regard, I fear,” he murmured, frowning at the half-smiling cat seen in his embroidery. He tossed the handkerchief aside. If the needle and thread were replaced with steel and screws, then Chu Wanning would have had more luck. He preferred sturdy machinery to flimsy fabric.
“Your Highness can try something else!” Luo Xianxian said, smiling and nodding her head. “We can spend next month’s salary on a guqin. If you can master that, then by that time - perhaps you can play for the emperor?”
She uttered this last part rather softly.
Chu Wanning was reminded of the hours he once spent hunched over, his face soaked in tears as his fingers bled, cut to shreds by the strings of the instrument before him.
“Look at the strings,” Taxian-jun cooed in his ear, grinding up against Chu Wanning from behind. “You’ve made such a mess of them, Chu-fei. Don’t tell me you think such a performance warrants my praise? Do it again and again - until you get it right.”
No, he thought. Not again.
“I think my playing would displease the emperor more than anything,” Chu Wanning shot her idea down with a wry smile. “Besides, I don’t want to play for him. I don’t want him to notice me. I just want to live a long, peaceful life behind these walls. If the emperor favors me even once, I will die painfully in a few years.”
He stated it like a fact because it was.
Luo Xianxian’s face paled at his words. “This servant understands,” she bowed her head once more. “ I will not speak of it again. I only thought that maybe you had changed your mind?”
Chu Wanning waved a hand. “It’s fine,” he assured her, giving a half-hearted smile. “I understand you were only thinking of me.”
A silence followed.
Luo Xianxian started to gather up the embroidery items and pack them away in the basket.
Chu Wanning leaned back in his chair. “Have you passed by the gardens as of late?” he asked.
He had not left his residence since the night he removed the flower, afraid he might run into the emperor. He found himself missing the fresh air, though, and he remembered that the emperor very rarely visited the gardens.
Luo Xianxian shook her head. “This servant has heard others say they look quite beautiful at this time, with all sorts of flowers in bloom. Perhaps Your Highness would like to go for a stroll this afternoon and see them?”
Chu Wanning hummed, which was as good as giving his assent.
He would later come to regret this decision. He should have visited anywhere else that day. For it was in the gardens where his path crossed with Mo Ran's once more, and his fate was sealed.
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