. • 谢亦威 (Wang Yi Xuan)

, the only son of Clan Head Wang Tianrong (谢氏族主), was born into both honor and fear. His father, a man respected by all and dreaded by many, ruled Clan Wang with unyielding authority. His mother, Xie RuYue, was forced into marriage with Tianrong before he rose to the position of clan leader.

•Tianrong had been captivated by her beauty, but for RuYue, marriage at the tender age of eighteen stole away her youth and freedom. Happiness was a luxury she was never granted—until the birth of her son. When Wang Yi Xuan came into the world, she felt as though she had finally given birth to her own joy.

•Called “Yi Xuan”, or sometimes “A xuan ” or “Young Master Wang”, the boy grew up cheerful and bright. He laughed easily, spoke too much, and carried a playful energy that lit up the palace halls—especially when he was with his mother.

•But where his mother gave him warmth, his father demanded discipline. Tianrong sought to mold Wang Yi Xuan into a worthy young master: brave, sharp, skilled in cultivation, swordplay, and leadership. For RuYue, however, none of that mattered. What she wanted most was for her son to be happy. She longed for him to have the freedom and joy she was denied.

•For Wang Yi Xuan, his mother became everything: his comfort, his understanding, and his truest love. To him, she was the one person who could see and protect his happiness in a world that otherwise demanded so much from him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The palace had never been a home.

From the day he was old enough to understand, Yi Xuan knew his parents’ marriage was nothing more than chains.

At fifteen, Yi Xuan had already seen more than any child should. He had heard his mother’s cries echo through the night, muffled by the heavy walls of her chambers. He had seen the bruises that she tried to hide beneath her sleeves.

Each time, his hands trembled with anger, but he was powerless. He was just a boy. Against the Emperor, what could he do?

When he turned twenty one, his father sent him away to the Azure Cloud Sect, claiming that a prince should learn cultivation. Yi Xuan had not protested. For him, it was a chance to escape the suffocating palace walls.

His only sorrow was leaving his mother behind.

The letters she sent were his comfort. Every week, her familiar handwriting arrived, filled with gentle words: reminders to eat well, to take care of himself, and to never lose heart. For five months, those letters never failed to reach him.

Until one day, they stopped.

That night, exhaustion dragged him into sleep. But in his dreams, the world was darker than any night sky. His mother stood before him, her robes torn, her face pale. Her trembling hands reached for him, her voice breaking with desperation.

“Help me… my son…”

Yi Xuan’s eyes snapped open. His body was drenched in sweat, his breath uneven. The echo of her voice still rang in his ears.

A sharp knock came at the door.

Before he could rise, his master stepped inside, carrying a lantern. The man’s usually calm face was tense, his voice low.

“Your father’s men are here. You must return to the palace at once.”

Yi Xuan blinked in confusion. “At this hour? Why?”

His master hesitated, then said heavily, “The Emperor’s letter says it is… about your mother.”

The words struck Yi Xuan like a blade. His heart pounded in his chest, dread clawing up his throat.

Without another word, he threw on his robes, fastened his sword to his back, and followed the soldiers waiting outside. The night wind was bitter, but the chill that gripped his heart was far colder.

Something had happened. He could feel it.

And he was already too late.

- [ ]

The journey back to the palace felt longer than ever. Yi Xuan sat stiffly in the carriage, his fists clenched against his knees. The silence of his father’s men only sharpened his unease.

At last, he broke it.

“What happened to my mother?” His voice was low, tight.

The soldier riding beside him shifted uncomfortably. “Young Master, forgive us… His Majesty ordered that we are not to speak of it. He said you would hear everything once you return.”

Yi Xuan’s chest tightened. “Not to speak of it? Why? What is so unspeakable that I cannot be told?”

No one answered. Their eyes avoided his, their lips pressed into thin lines. Only the cold night wind replied, whistling through the trees.

Yi Xuan leaned back, but his heart gave him no rest. A storm brewed inside him, each passing moment heavier than the last.

⸻

By the time the palace gates came into view, a suffocating weight pressed down upon him. The grand halls that once glittered with light were now eerily dark. Torches flickered weakly in the hard wind, their flames bending as though they too were afraid.

He stepped down from the carriage, his boots striking against the cold stone. The air carried no trace of warmth—only dread.

The soldiers led him through the silent corridors, past guards who kept their heads bowed. The heavy doors of the Emperor’s study opened with a groan.

Inside, his father sat alone, his expression unreadable, eyes deep and tired. When he heard Yi Xuan’s footsteps, he raised his head.

Yi Xuan did not bow. His voice came sharp and unyielding:

“Father, where is mother? What happened to her?”

For a moment, silence stretched like a blade between them. Then the Emperor’s gaze hardened.

“She is no longer your mother.”

Yi Xuan froze. “What? What do you mean by that?”

The Emperor’s tone was cold, each word like stone.

“She has shamed this palace. Shamed our name. She is unworthy to be called Empress—and unworthy to be called your mother.”

Yi Xuan’s hands trembled. “What did she do? Where is she now?” His eyes darted about the room, as if expecting her to step out at any moment.

But the Emperor’s voice cut that hope in two.

“She has already run away—with the man she loves. She left you. She left me. There is no need to look for her.”

Yi Xuan staggered back a step. His lips parted, his voice raw. “No… that’s impossible. She would never—”

The Emperor’s gaze sharpened. He raised a hand, silencing him.

“I know you will not believe me. Then see it yourself. On the table—her letter.”

With that, he rose and left the chamber, his robes sweeping behind him. The sound of the door closing was deafening.

Yi Xuan stood frozen, his chest heaving, until his eyes snapped to the table. His footsteps were unsteady as he rushed forward, snatching up the folded parchment.

His mother’s handwriting. He knew it instantly.

Hands shaking, he broke the seal and read:

To my beloved son, A xuan.

I love you more than anything in this world. I never regret giving birth to you—you are my pride, my joy. But I am tired, Yi’er… tired of a life I never wanted, tired of a love that never existed. For years I endured bitterness, but now I can no longer continue.

I have found someone I truly love. I wish to live happily with him. Please, do not look for me. Take care of yourself, and live well.

The words blurred as tears spilled down Yi Xuan’s cheeks. The letter slipped in his trembling hands as he choked on silent sobs.

He wanted to scream No, this isn’t her. He wanted to tear the letter apart and call it a lie. But the ink was real. The words were hers.

His knees weakened, and he sank onto the chair,

Mother… why didn’t you take me with you?

In this wretched palace—the place they both hated—why had she left him behind?

Do you think I can be happy here without you? Do you think I am like him? Did I make some mistake?

His tears fell freely now, staining the parchment. His chest ached as though his heart had shattered. Yet even in his despair, one thought repeated in his mind:

If this is the happiness you longed for, then I have no right to stop you. If you are free… if you are smiling at last… then I should let you go.

But the emptiness swallowing him whole whispered otherwise.

Why, Mother? Why did you leave me too?

Yi Xuan sat motionless on the edge of his bed, the letter still lying folded on the table across the room. His eyes were fixed on the floor, blank and unseeing. The silence pressed against him like a weight.

The door creaked open.

His father stepped inside.Yi

Xuan quickly rose to his feet and bowed slightly.

“Father…”

The Emperor gestured for him to sit. “Sit, Ā xuan.”

They sat side by side on the bed.

The Emperor’s voice was steady, but there was no warmth in it.

“I know this is hard for you. But there is nothing we can do. You cannot shut yourself away. You are a prince—you must show yourself and do what a prince should do.”

Yi Xuan’s face remained expressionless. Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes, Father. I will.”

The Emperor studied him for a moment, then said, “Your mother left because she did not care for us. So why should we care for her any longer? Forget her.”

Yi Xuan’s hands tightened on his knees. His lips stayed still, but his mind screamed:

No. She left because of you. Because you never loved her. Because you never gave her even a sliver of happiness. You treated her like she didn’t exist—like she was nothing. You are the reason she left. You are the reason we lived without freedom, without joy. You! You are the reason she’s gone!

“A xuan?” His father’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you hear me?”

Yi Xuan blinked, startled. “Huh? Y-yes, Father. I heard you. I’m sorry.” He lowered his head.

The Emperor’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, then he gave a faint nod. “Good. Come out for lunch after this.”

He rose and walked out of the room, his steps heavy on the polished floor.

“Alright…”Yi Xuan whispered, his voice flat.

But as the door closed behind his father, his expression shifted. His eyes, once dull, now burned with a silent fury.

He watched the empty doorway, his fists curling tightly.

“One day…”

The next day, Wang Yi Xuan forced himself to step outside the confines of his chambers. His father’s words echoed in his mind—a prince must show himself.

So he walked the palace corridors, his back straight, his expression carefully blank.

But no matter where he went, whispers followed.

Servants paused in their sweeping, their voices lowered but not enough to escape his ears.

“Is that the young master? How pitiful… abandoned by his own mother.”

“She left him and His Majesty for another man, didn’t she? What kind of mother does that?”

Their words pierced deeper than blades.

Wang Yi Xuan’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. He wanted to scream at them—Do not speak of her like that! You know nothing about her!

But he kept walking, his pace quickening. His chest burned as though a fire raged within.

By the time he reached the steps of his residence, he could no longer bear it. He turned sharply, heading back inside—

But a voice stopped him.

“Ā Xuan.”

He froze. Slowly, he lifted his head.

At the foot of the steps stood his grandmother, her face lined with years but her eyes filled with warmth. She reached out and pulled him into her embrace before he could react.

Wang Yi Xuan stiffened, shocked. “Grandmother…”

Her arms trembled as she held him. Her voice was heavy with sorrow.

“I’m so sad to know what has happened… to your family, to your mother. But deep down, I know her. She may leave the world behind, but she would never leave you. Never. I cannot believe she ran away with another man. No… she is not like that.”

Yi Xuan’s eyes widened. His chest tightened as her words struck him. Slowly, he raised his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper.

“Grandmother… you believe that?”

But before she could answer, another voice cut through the air.

“Mother-in-law, didn’t you say you were leaving?”

The Emperor’s presence loomed from behind. His tone was calm, yet heavy.

His grandmother startled, her hands dropping from Yi Xuan’s shoulders. She forced a smile and nodded quickly.

“Ah—yes. Yes, I should go now. Ā Xuan, please take care of yourself. And don’t forget to visit your grandmother.”

Wang Yi Xuan bowed deeply. “I will, Grandmother. Please take care as well.”

She gave him one last look before turning and departing down the path.

Silence fell.

Yi Xuan lowered his head again and made to enter his residence.