Chapter 52

Proofreader : Mim

“Ah-Li, look.”

The Eastern Palace was draped in heavy purple gauze that swayed gently in the night breeze. The Crown Princess removed a lantern hanging from the corridor, took off its cover, and smiled as she asked, “Ah-Li, do you know what this is?”

At that time, he was still shorter than his mother’s waist.

Though born to the legitimate wife and the heir apparent, mother and son lived in a silent palace inhabited by only two elderly servants, while his father rarely showed his face.

“Fire,” he said.

“Yes, it’s fire.”

The Crown Princess held her index finger to the flame.

The fire danced wildly in the wind, licking her pale fingertip.

Xie Lanxu watched closely, noticing his mother’s face twisting in pain, her forehead and the bridge of her nose beading with sweat.

And yet, she did not pull her finger away.

Only when the skin that the flame had touched became visibly swollen did she finally move her finger from the fire.

In the open air, the burned skin quickly discolored, and a blister visibly formed.

The Crown Princess’ face was pale, drenched in sweat, but she still managed to smile gently at Xie Lanxu. She took a silver needle, heated in the flame, and pricked the blister, then held her red, tender fingertip out for him to see.

“Mother, you’re hurt,” Xie Lanxu exclaimed in shock. “Why didn’t I get hurt?”

“Because you weren’t in the fire long enough,” the Crown Princess replied, forcing a smile through her pain. “If you had stayed any longer, your hand would have been ruined.”

“But my younger brother said—”

The sorrow on his mother’s face stopped him mid-sentence.

This sorrow was unrelated to others—it came from him and because of him. It was as though she grieved for him and felt hopeless all at once.

Unintentionally, he always hurt others. He could not even tell which word or phrase caused that pain.

“Ah-Li, there are many dangerous things in this world that won’t cause you pain at first but can still cost you your life. You must remember these things and avoid them.”

“If someone tells you that stepping into a sea of fire will warm your entire body, let them go before you.”

The Crown Princess laughed, but to him, it felt as though she were crying. The absence of tears was merely because the flames in her heart had burned them dry.

“Ah-Li, you are special. If you take people’s words lightly, you will lose your life one day,” she said. “There are too many people who want to see you dead.”

“Remember, people often say one thing but mean another. Actions must align with a path; observe their words, watch their deeds—no one can truly hide themselves through their actions.”

Xie Lanxu asked, “Mother, can I trust what you say?”

“…Don’t listen with your ears. Listen with your heart. Even for me, Ah-Li.”

The memory broke off abruptly because, unknowingly, he had wandered to the hilltop where he had met Li Zhi several times before.

He stopped walking and stood still, staring at the familiar figure on the slope.

The night wind blew through, bringing life to everything on the grassland.

The grass swayed its delicate tips, bending and rising gracefully, gathering into waves of green that rippled toward the hilltop.

Clusters of azaleas on the branches drifted down like snowflakes, swirling and scattering through the vast night. Their faint fragrance wove through the darkness like threads of silk.

Li Zhi sat atop the hill, her shoes and cloth slippers neatly placed beside her. Her pale bare feet dipped into the stream winding under the trees, her gaze lost in the distant misty night. She was so deep in thought that she did not even notice when azalea petals fell onto her hair.

In that moment, Xie Lanxu felt as though he were a riverbank being swallowed by a rising tide. His chest swelled with emotion, but his words were drowned. Something within him softened completely, caught in the inexplicable flutter of his heart.

No matter the turns, the twists, the accidents…

He had still returned to this place.

“Ah-Li.”

Li Zhi noticed him first and quickly stood up, only to forget the stream beneath her feet. Her skirt dipped into the water, and damp stains spread quickly upward.

Xie Lanxu stepped into the stream in his black boots, walking toward her one deliberate step at a time, finally stopping right in front of her.

Li Zhi looked up at him, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion, as though she hadn’t expected him to return to the Xipeng Grasslands tonight.

He hadn’t expected it either.

Li Zhi waited for him to speak first, but when he finally did, the words that came out were entirely unplanned, “Why don’t you want to marry me?”

Li Zhi’s initial shock gave way to laughter.

“Wasn’t it you, Ah-Li, who first said you would never marry me?”

Xie Lanxu pressed his lips together, unable to respond. After a long silence, he finally said slowly, “I have my reasons for not wanting to marry you. But why don’t you want to marry me? You said you liked me—was that not true?”

“Because I don’t want to put you in a difficult position,” Li Zhi said. “Your Highness is of royal blood, while I am merely the daughter of a criminal. If Your Highness marries me, it would bring you no benefit; on the contrary, I would become a burden.”

“I know Your Highness has grand ambitions. That’s why I am willing to remain by your side as nothing more than a servant. I will not ask for status, nor consider the future—so long as I can share every moment with Your Highness.”

“I do not wish for it, not because my heart is devoid of feelings. On the contrary, it is because my feelings are so deep that everything apart from love can be cast aside.”

Her words—each syllable—coursed directly through his veins, flowing with his burning blood to every corner of his body. Finally, they gathered into a tide that rose and fell in his chest.

“…Prove it to me,” he said.

Li Zhi paused, surprised.

“Then prove it to me,” Xie Lanxu said again, locking eyes with her, his words measured and deliberate. “Prove that staying by my side is truly for me, and me alone.”

He longed for Li Zhi to give him a convincing answer, something that would uproot the thorny doubts lodged deep in his heart.

But how could she prove it? He had no answer.

As Li Zhi’s expression slowly firmed with determination and her hand moved toward the sash at his waist, the answer suddenly became clear to him.

He wanted to possess everything of hers.

Her shell bracelet, her siblings, everything she cherished.

When everything she held dear was in his grasp, she would have nowhere else to go but his side.

He stood still, his posture straight and unyielding—still the elegant young noble. But his fiery gaze was fixed on Li Zhi, unmoving, as he allowed his belt and jade pendant to fall into the stream below.

In his eyes, Li Zhi saw the glint of a predator.

Slowly, she removed her outer robe.

Xie Lanxu said nothing; he merely watched her as she undressed both of them piece by piece.

It seemed as if he were waiting for something, like a beast watching its prey, waiting to see if it would flee or resist.

Finally, when they were both down to their underclothes, Li Zhi took a deep breath and reached for the final layer of his robe.

Xie Lanxu resisted slightly, and Li Zhi could see him fighting his instincts. For a moment, she thought he would retreat and finally say, “That’s enough”—but he didn’t.

The inner robe slipped into the clear water, revealing Xie Lanxu’s bare chest.

Countless dark green incantations—spells to ward off evil—were etched across every inch of his skin.

Li Zhi was stunned into silence, as if she had fallen from a towering height while stripping away their garments. Now, she had hit rock bottom and found solid ground beneath her feet.

Compared to her fear of what might happen next, a new feeling took hold of her heart.

Her hand no longer trembled. As though afraid to hurt him, her touch was feather-light as she traced the markings on his chest.

Beneath her fingertips was a line of burned scripture:

“Namo Tassa Bhagavato Arahato Sammasambuddhassa.”

Tracing the words, Li Zhi felt a sense of inexplicable peace. What dispelled her fear was not the incantation, but the sight of Xie Lanxu—this man who had survived such torment. Looking at him, she felt a strange familiarity, as though staring at her own reflection.

Suddenly, she felt a surge of strength, her heart swelling with love and pity.

She was ready for whatever came next.

Unbeknownst to her, her eyes overflowed with tenderness.

“Are you not afraid?” Xie Lanxu said, his voice low.

Li Zhi did not answer. She simply rose onto her toes and kissed his cold lips.

Moments later, he returned her kiss more fiercely.

Unknowingly, they fell into the water. The splashes rippled outward as though she were being swept into a swirling whirlpool. Dizzy and breathless, she could barely form words.

Her left hand grasped at heaven and earth, her right hand held the divine forces of eight directions, steadying her.

The countless exorcising spells engraved on his body were meant to seal away the “demon” now holding her.

But in her heart, there was no fear.

Threads of blood drifted through the water. In a brief moment of daylight, she bit down hard on his shoulder, her teeth leaving a mark that overlapped with the “Namo” incantation.

Above them, countless stars shimmered like fireflies across the sky. A silver Milky Way stood tall like a destined sword between heaven and earth. Not far away, the holy and solitary Xian Naiyue Mountain looked on silently.

When the waves calmed, they were both gasping for breath.

She rested against his shoulder, her fingertips brushing a line of scripture as she asked softly, “Where did these incantations come from?”

Xie Lanxu stared at the sky for a long time before speaking.

“When I was a child, I often broke my bones without realizing it. Only when the palace servants noticed I was walking strangely did they discover my injuries. When I was even younger, I nearly ate my own fingers when the servants left me alone for a moment.”

“The priests in the Eastern Palace believed I was cursed at birth, that my inability to feel pain or fear was the result of a demonic possession. At first, my father didn’t believe them. But then came the great drought in Hexi, the floods in Jiangnan, and the earthquakes of Shuhe. Eventually, he started to believe.”

“The Lakeside Pavilion in the Eastern Palace was built to suppress evil. It’s filled with statues and symbols. My daily lessons were nothing but exorcism rituals. My teachers were monks, Taoists, shamans, and those who claimed to be born with divine knowledge.”

No pain= No fear= inhuman.

To restore his “humanity,” they tried drowning him, burning him, whipping him, piercing him with swords. He had been surrounded by countless people chanting incantations, but nothing could exorcise the “demon” within him.

But lying here, beside her—no chains, no branding irons to threaten him—his chest began to ache.

For the first time in his life, he understood pain.

Pain was in the warmth of her lips, the trembling of her fingertips, the heat of her body, and the sound of her uncontrollable cries.

It was a feeling that started in his heart and rippled out to his very fingertips.

The wind was so still, blowing through the flowering trees without a sound. Only the red petals swirled and scattered across the night sky.

In a hoarse voice, Xie Lanxu said, “…All my trust, I have given to you.”

“Banban.”

Notes and Context:

“Step into a sea of fire” (置身火海): This metaphor refers to blindly believing someone’s words, even when it leads to personal destruction.