The air inside the subterranean dungeon was bone-chilling and heavy as stone, thick with the stagnant stench of dried blood and musty dust. In the pitch-black darkness, which hung as heavy as liquid tar, the only source of light was an old oil lamp in the corner, its flame flickering and trembling weakly against the draft.
‘Clang... Screeech...’
The massive iron gate groaned under the weight of its own rust as it swung open. At the harsh, grating sound, Xiao Mingyu, who was sitting lifelessly in the corner of his cell with his knees hugged tightly to his chest, felt his shoulders flinch violently.
The newly crowned Emperor, Ye Han, stepped into the dungeon, his strides deliberate and unhurried. His heavy, jet-black velvet robe trailed along the stone floor, carrying with it the sharp, heady scent of imperial wine. Though his eyes were bloodshot and hazy from the alcohol, his gaze and actions remained cold and razor-sharp, cutting through the darkness like a polished blade. He did not resort to wild shouting or coarse insults. Yet, the sheer aura radiating from his silent, approaching footsteps was enough to suffocate Mingyu with psychological terror.
Terrified, Mingyu tried to shrink back, but his spine immediately met the damp, icy stone of the cell wall. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to summon whatever dignity he had left to stand and face his captor. But before he could, Ye Han lunged forward. With a sudden, brutal motion, his powerful hand gripped Mingyu’s elegant chin, forcing his head upward.
Ye Han’s fingers dug so deeply into his jawline that Mingyu winced in agony, his brow furrowing. Staring down at Mingyu's face, Ye Han curled his lips into a mocking, venomous smirk and murmured in a low, biting whisper:
"Your Majesty... it seems the ministers outside were telling the absolute truth. If Your Majesty were to enter a pleasure house, you would undoubtedly become its most prized attraction. Just look at you... even in a wretched place like this, stripped of everything, Your Majesty still manages to look so breathtakingly seductive..."
The moment the words left his lips, ignoring Mingyu’s desperate struggles, Ye Han brutally gripped the collar of the golden phoenix robe Mingyu still wore and ripped it open in one violent motion.
‘Rip... Tear...!’
Along with the sound of precious silk tearing apart, the heavy iron chains clanked and rattled in painful protest. The iron cuffs chafed against Mingyu’s wrists as he struggled, digging into his delicate skin and leaving thin, crimson trails of blood. As the grand phoenix robe fell helplessly to the dirty floor like a discarded rag, every shred of dignity Mingyu had maintained as a former ruler was utterly trampled and crushed into the dirt.
Now clad only in a thin, sheer white inner robe, Mingyu’s body trembled uncontrollably against the damp draft. He looked up, his eyes wide with sheer terror, and pleaded softly:
"Your Majesty... please, give me prisoner's garb. I will change into it myself..."
But Ye Han acted as if he hadn't heard a word. He pressed closer, his cold palm sliding over the thin fabric and pressing firmly against Mingyu’s pale, trembling chest. Horrified, Mingyu tried to summon the last of his imperial authority, pushing against Ye Han’s hand as he commanded:
"Remove your hand...!"
‘Slap...!!!’
The resounding crack of the blow echoed sharply off the stone walls, sending Mingyu's head snapping to the side. Ye Han had struck his cheek with merciless force. A tiny droplet of blood welled up at the corner of Mingyu's lips. Ye Han grabbed his chin again, squeezing even harder this time, his dark eyes burning with years of suppressed resentment as he hissed:
"Did you forget...? Anyone who dares to look me in the eye, anyone who dares to raise their voice at me, does not deserve to live! When you sat selfishly on that high throne, treating me like a dog, did you think I would forget? Where is your royal pride now... Xiao Mingyu?!"
Tears welled in Mingyu's eyes from the burning pain in his cheek, but he forced himself to look back defiantly, his voice trembling but unbroken:
"Then kill me...! I am a fallen king. Keeping me alive will only be a mistake for you... Why don't you just kill me?!"
Ye Han's eyes flared crimson with rage. Squeezing Mingyu's jaw as if to shatter the bone, he growled:
"You talk too much, Mingyu. This empire belongs to me now, and my word is absolute law. Even your very breath belongs to me...!"
With that, Ye Han yanked the sash from Mingyu’s waist, causing the thin white robe to slide completely off his shoulders.
"Ye Han... what are you doing?! Let go of me... Let me go...!"
Mingyu thrashed and resisted, but Ye Han ignored him entirely. He buried his face in the curve of Mingyu’s fair, delicate neck, kissing him with a savage, desperate intensity. His touch was wild and ravenous, devoid of any gentleness.
"Ye Han... let go... have you lost your mind?! What do you gain by humiliating me like this... let me go!"
Mingyu’s desperate cries echoed uselessly through the subterranean chamber. Ye Han remained deaf to his pleas, his harsh kisses burning a trail down Mingyu's neck to his chest. He marked the sensitive skin of Mingyu's chest with bruising bites, while his other hand roughly gripped Mingyu's hips, pinning him down onto the freezing stone floor.
"You beast...! How did you turn into such a cold-blooded, repulsive monster...!"
Mingyu’s cries of pain and hatred shattered the last of Ye Han’s restraint. His expression contorted into something terrifyingly cruel and ruthless.
"A monster, am I? Then let me show you just how monstrous I can be. Let us see how I strip away the last of your pride...!"
Using the weight of his large frame, Ye Han pinned Mingyu's thrashing limbs to the floor. Without a shred of mercy or hesitation, he forced himself inside.
"Ah...!!!"
A sharp, agonizing scream tore through the dungeon as the sudden, violent intrusion ripped through him. Hot droplets of blood began to seep from Mingyu’s torn body, dripping slowly onto the cold, unforgiving stone.
"Stop... it hurts... it hurts so much... please stop... please..."
Mingyu sobbed hysterically, shaking his head in desperate entreaty. Ye Han pushed deep inside him and paused for a brief moment. Mingyu, gasping for air through his tears, whimpered softly:
"Ye Han... don't move... please, just for a moment... I beg of you... just kill me instead..."
But the new Emperor, driven by years of bitter resentment and the heat of the wine, ignored his cries. The rhythmic, heavy sound of flesh striking flesh echoed loudly through the dark dungeon. Ye Han continued his relentless, brutal assault, claiming him violently throughout the long, agonizing night.
It was only when the first rays of dawn filtered into the palace that Ye Han finally dressed himself in his pristine robes. He cast a final look at Mingyu, who lay pale and barely breathing on the stone floor, and walked away without looking back.
Inside the lavish quarters of the Empress, the wedding night candles had burned down to pools of wax. Empress Lin Shu sat up in bed, having waited up the entire night. The sound of approaching footsteps startled her awake.
"Your Majesty...?"
Lin Shu looked at Ye Han with exhausted, weary eyes. The cruelty that had possessed Ye Han in the dungeons just hours ago was gone; his face was now adorned with a soft, gentle smile.
Ye Han approached the bed, taking Lin Shu's hand in his and speaking in a deeply apologetic tone:
"I am so sorry, my Empress. At last night's banquet, the ministers and I got carried away discussing state affairs, and I drank far too much wine. I ended up falling asleep the moment I reached the study. I am truly sorry for leaving you to spend our wedding night alone..."
Seeing his gentle demeanor and hearing his soft, convincing words, the cloud of suspicion in Lin Shu's heart vanished instantly. She pouted, playing at being upset, but the moment Ye Han pulled her into his arms and gently stroked her shoulders, her anger melted away completely.
Meanwhile, inside the grand imperial court, a suffocating silence hung over the assembly.
On his throne, the new Emperor Ye Han was issuing a chilling, veiled threat to Minister Chen, who had been secretly embezzling state funds. Ye Han had already strategically placed his spies inside the "Golden Lotus Pavilion"—the very brothel where the ministers frequently gathered to strike their under-the-table deals. Because of this, he held all their secrets in the palm of his hand.
By targeting Minister Chen first, he was sending a clear, terrifying warning to the rest of the corrupt officials that he knew every single one of their misdeeds. For years, Ye Han had harbored nothing but deep distrust for these politicians. However, there was one single exception: Minister Wang.
Minister Wang had not only been Ye Han’s most loyal shadow spy since his youth, but he was also one of the few who knew the history between Ye Han and Mingyu. That was why, during the coronation ceremony earlier that day, when other ministers had openly mocked and demeaned the captive Mingyu, Minister Wang had stood up to defend him. To Minister Wang, Mingyu was still just the innocent child he had watched grow up.
As the court dismissed and Ye Han descended the throne, his close attendant, Ming Xin, rushed over with a pale, panicked expression and whispered:
"Your Majesty... the former King Mingyu's condition is extremely critical. He is currently burning up with a severe fever in the dungeon and has lost consciousness. He has refused every meal brought to him over the past few days, and his body is too weak to sustain him. He may not survive..."
Hearing this, Ye Han's eyes widened in sheer panic. The realization that Mingyu was on the verge of death—battered by his own brutality from the night before and starved from his hunger strike—sent a wave of possessive fury and terror rushing through his veins. The thought of losing Mingyu triggered a desperate, protective instinct.
"Summon the Imperial Physician immediately...!!!"
Ye Han roared the command and bolted toward the dungeons with long, frantic strides.
Slamming open the heavy dungeon door, Ye Han felt his heart drop at the sight of Mingyu lying there, burning with fever and barely breathing. He ordered the guards to unlock the chains immediately. Lifting Mingyu’s cold, frail body into his arms, he carried him as fast as his legs could bear toward a clean, warm imperial bedchamber.
Once Mingyu was gently laid upon the soft mattress, the Imperial Physician arrived and began administering acupuncture. Throughout the process, Ye Han was a wreck of nerves. His eyes were bloodshot with anxiety, his mind a chaotic mess of anger, guilt, and terror.
He paced the room restlessly—standing by the bedside, storming toward the door, and then rushing back to the bed, unable to sit still. Every needle the physician inserted felt like a blade twisting in Ye Han’s own chest.
After what felt like an eternity, Mingyu slowly fluttered his heavy eyelids open. His face was as pale as paper, his lips dry and cracked. Standing by the bed with a tense, angry expression, Ye Han snatched a bowl of warm congee from an attendant and thrust it toward Mingyu.
"Sit up... and eat."
Mingyu turned his dull, hollow eyes toward Ye Han. Defiantly, he turned his face away, refusing the food. This silent rejection snapped Ye Han's frayed nerves.
"Xiao Mingyu...!!! Are you testing my patience?! Do you really wish to die?!"
Ye Han gripped the bowl so hard his knuckles turned white, his voice shaking with fury.
"Do you honestly think I would let you off that easily... Mingyu?! Listen to me carefully! Your life, your body—they belong to me! Unless I permit it, you do not even have the right to die!!!"
Ye Han barked an order to the guards to pin Mingyu down. He then used his own hand to force Mingyu's mouth open, ruthlessly pouring the hot congee down his throat.
"Ugh... cough... hack...!"
Choking on the forced food, Mingyu began to cough violently, gasping for air. The congee spilled over his pale cheeks, staining his clean white robes. Seeing him struggle, a pang of sharp regret hit Ye Han, and he threw the bowl onto the floor, shattering it.
"Servants...! Bring more nourishing food immediately! And fetch a clean set of robes!"
Ye Han roared the orders, then glared at the physician, guards, and servants standing in the room. "All of you, get out...!"
Once the room cleared and they were left alone, Ye Han looked down at Mingyu and said coldly:
"Change out of those soiled clothes... right in front of me."
Trembling with shame and physical pain, Mingyu turned his back to Ye Han and slowly, shakily removed the stained robes. As the fabric slipped down, his smooth, pale back—marred by dark bruises and abrasions—was laid bare before Ye Han's eyes.
Staring at the bruised back, a wave of complicated emotions—possessiveness, desire, and unvoiced regret—surged within Ye Han. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently trace his palm over the delicate, trembling skin.
"Ah..." Mingyu flinched violently at the touch.
But this time, Ye Han did not use force. Instead, he gently took the clean robes from Mingyu's hands and, casting aside his imperial pride, carefully and tenderly dressed the frail man himself.
Moments later, servants arrived to set a lavish spread of imperial dishes on the table. Despite the delicious aroma filling the room, Mingyu sat there as still as a porcelain doll, showing absolutely no interest in the food.
The sight made Ye Han’s anger flare up again, but as he began to raise his voice, his anger dissolved into a desperate, vulnerable plea.
"Mingyu...! What do I have to feed you for you to eat...? Why are you so bent on dying?! From our youth until now... have you ever done anything other than break my heart?!"
Ye Han gripped Mingyu's shoulders gently, forcing their eyes to meet, his voice cracking with emotion.
"We have finally crossed paths again after all these years... why can't you just stay by my side? Is it because of your father, Minister Xiao...? Did he ever truly care for you?! Or is it because of your loyal maids, Su Su and Wan Wan...?"
Ye Han let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Looking at Mingyu's pale face with desperate eyes, he completely lowered his voice, practically begging:
"I... I have already given them both a proper, honorable burial. If you are still angry, I will bestow posthumous noble titles upon them so you can be proud. What else... what else do you want me to do for you...? Please, just eat something... my sweet Mingyu... I am sorry about Su Su and Wan Wan..."
Under the morning light, the fierce Emperor’s eyes held nothing but a desperate, terrified plea of a man terrified of losing the only person he had ever truly loved.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the palace, under the shade of a blooming cherry blossom tree, fate was quietly shifting.
Petals of soft pink drifted through the air as Empress Lin Shu sat at a stone table, pouring herself a cup of tea. She was still basking in the warmth of Ye Han’s gentle words from that morning. She lifted the delicate porcelain teapot, gracefully pouring the amber liquid into her cup.
But then, from the other side of the thick foliage, the hushed whispers of some palace maids sweeping the gardens carried over on the breeze, reaching Lin Shu's ears with devastating clarity.
"Hey... did you hear? On the wedding night... His Majesty never even stepped foot into the Empress's palace."
"My goodness, really? Then where did His Majesty spend the night...?"
One of the maids lowered her voice even further, whispering conspiratorially:
"It wasn't the study... Word has it that His Majesty was in the dungeons until the dead of night, inside the cell of the dethroned King, Xiao Mingyu. The guards said strange cries and soft weeping echoed from the cell all through the night. They say the two of them were engaged in a shameful, secret tryst..."
‘Shatter...!!!’
Before the maid could finish her sentence, the delicate porcelain cup slipped from Lin Shu's fingers, shattering into a thousand pieces on the stone floor.
Lin Shu's hands went entirely cold, trembling uncontrollably. Ye Han... had lied to her. He hadn't spent the night in his study; he had spent it in the arms of Xiao Mingyu. Clenching her pale lips to stifle a cry, she stared down at the broken shards of porcelain, feeling as though her own heart had been shattered in exactly the same way.
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