The Phoenix that devours fate

CHAPTER 8

HAOFENG

The corridors extended before me in a quiet vastness their silence pressing upon me with an almost suffocating weight. Light flickered softly against the polished wooden panels casting shifting patterns that wove and unwove themselves across the walls slipping into corners as if reluctant to remain in sight. The marble beneath my feet carried the cold touch of night smooth yet unbending as though the very foundation of this place held memories too distant to fade.

The silence that accompanied my footsteps was profound filled with thoughts I dared not voice. I had expected none of this not a chamber awaiting my presence not such careful preparation not the consideration of one whose mercy had never before reached me. The Emperor's kindness remained an enigma unfamiliar and foreign upon my skin and yet here I was guided deeper into the heart of a world that had once cast me aside. My fingers curled slightly at my sides a quiet response to the unease stirring within. What lay beneath this unexpected generosity What intent had shaped the path that now led me here.

Ahead the doors towered high adorned with exquisite engravings of dragons entwined through waves and celestial omens their watchful eyes ever present. The guards came to a halt their stance poised yet without a word they stepped aside their task now complete leaving me to face whatever lay beyond this threshold.

With a slow breath I advanced pressing my palm against the heavy doors. They parted with an effortless grace revealing the chamber beyond. And as the sight unfolded before me I found myself momentarily still the air caught within my chest for what lay before me was far beyond expectation.

The room spanned with quiet grandeur its high ceilings adorned with latticed woodwork that bore the craftsmanship of long-passed generations. Delicate silk draperies embroidered with the histories of emperors now resting in their tombs swayed ever so slightly their embroidered threads glimmering beneath the soft glow that illuminated the space. There was a stillness here not the emptiness of neglect but the quiet presence of something carefully arranged as though every detail had been placed with the utmost thought.

At the farthest end of the chamber stood a grand resting place veiled in sheer fabric that shifted with the faintest breath of air a subtle fragrance lingering like a trace of something long remembered. Every object within the space the polished wooden screens the ink-stone and parchment resting in quiet invitation spoke of careful preparation as though my presence had been foreseen long before my arrival.

And then my eyes fell upon what had truly taken me unawares a space prepared not just for me but for the child I carried. Near the resting place a wooden cradle stood its structure smooth with craftsmanship so fine it seemed untouched by time its gentle curves and delicate engravings reminiscent of the careful hands that had shaped it. The bedding within was woven from the softest silks pale and untouched waiting for the small weight it was meant to hold.

For the first time since stepping into this palace something settled deep within me a quiet acceptance that I had not been cast into the unknown without thought. There was a place here for him for the child born of sorrow yet cradled in hope. And as I stepped further into the room feeling the warmth of the space against the cold that had long lingered in my bones I realized that perhaps just perhaps I had been given more than I had ever dared to seek.

The quiet of the vast room wrapped around me, its stillness pressing against my skin like a shroud. The silk of the robe settled on my frame, a second skin that neither belonged to me nor carried the warmth of familiarity. Every stitch spoke of a world far beyond my reach, yet here I stood, cloaked in the illusion of belonging, a guest in a palace that had never been meant for me.

Beyond the towering doors, footsteps approached with measured intent. There was no hesitation in their stride, no softness in their arrival. I did not need to look up to know who had come. Shengyuan, second-born of the Emperor, a prince molded by privilege and sharpened by the cold steel of expectation. He was the embodiment of power passed through generations, his presence a quiet storm rolling in without warning. The civility of his posture, I could already sense the edge of his discontent.

The doors parted, revealing him standing at the threshold. His attire bore the traces of his journey through the dense forest, the faint traces of dust clinging to the fine fabric, nothing could dull the arrogance that rested in his eyes. Those eyes, dark and knowing, swept over me in a manner that stripped me bare—not with curiosity, but with judgment. I was an uninvited guest in his world, a stain upon the fabric of his family's legacy.

For an eternity, neither of us spoke, but I could feel the resentment pulsing from him like a blade drawn yet not yet thrust forward. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though measuring the depth of his own disdain before he finally allowed words to pass his lips.

"So, my father dresses you in silk now?" His voice carried a smoothness that did not mask the contempt beneath it. "How quickly he forgets the past."

I lowered my gaze, letting my fingers trace the embroidered fabric draped over me. "It is not mine to claim," I answered evenly. "But I will not refuse what has been bestowed upon me."

A flicker of something colder passed through his face. Displeasure. Amusement. Perhaps both. "Bestowed?" he echoed, stepping further inside, his movements as calculated as his words. "How generous of him to grant a traitor such favor."

The insult was deliberate, a thread woven between us that he wished to tighten until it cut. I met his gaze, unwavering. "I have never betrayed anyone," I said simply.

Shengyuan tilted his head slightly, as if studying an insect he could crush beneath his heel. "No?" he mused, his voice almost thoughtful. "You stole my sister from her rightful place. You dragged her into a life of squalor, forcing her to live among those who scrape their meals from the earth. If that is not betrayal, then what is it?"

His words struck with intent, but I did not flinch. "She made her choice," I replied, my voice steady. "I did not take her. She came with me."

His lips curled into something that was neither a smile nor a frown, but a shadow of both. "And now you stand here," he murmured, his tone unreadable. "Dressed like a noble. Walking through these halls as if they belong to you. Do you not find it laughable, Haofeng?"

There was no true question in his words, only a challenge, an attempt to see if I would bow beneath the weight of his scorn. I did not. "I have no illusions of belonging here," I said. "But fate is strange. It leads men to places they never thought they would walk."

Shengyuan exhaled through his nose, his expression twisting into something dangerously close to disgust. "Do not speak of fate to me," he said, his voice edged with ice. "Fate did not bring you here—pity did. My father's pity. And when that pity fades, as it always does, what will you be then? Nothing more than what you have always been—a beggar grasping at things beyond his reach."

His words carried venom, and this time, he wanted them to wound. But I did not allow them to. I met his glare with a calm that I knew only fueled his hatred further. "Perhaps you are right," I said, my tone quiet yet firm. "Perhaps this place will never be mine. But your father—our Emperor—has given me a place here. And until he says otherwise, I will not turn away from it."

Shengyuan's jaw tensed, his fingers twitching at his side as though he wished to strike something—perhaps me, perhaps the air itself. But he only exhaled sharply and looked away, disgust still lining his features.

"We shall see how long that lasts," he muttered, before turning his back on me and walking away, leaving only the bitterness of his presence behind.

Shengyuan's presence left a bitter taste in my mouth, though I had long since abandoned the foolish hope of earning favor in this palace. He did not mask ,his eyes bore into me as though I had defiled something sacred simply by existing within these walls. To him, I was nothing more than a man of low birth who had stolen what was never meant to be mine. He saw me as a disgrace draped in finery, a mockery of the imperial bloodline. His hatred was not spoken, yet it was carved into every glance, every measured word, every breath drawn in reluctance.

I looked down at the robe that now covered me—a garment far too fine for the hands that had once toiled in soil, for a body that had known the biting cold of an empty night. It sat upon me like borrowed honor, like a name that did not belong to me. To Shengyuan, it was an insult that I stood before him clad in the emperor's generosity, that I walked the same halls his sister once did. But he did not know what it was to watch the light in Lumin's eyes fade, to hold her trembling hands as she whispered to me in words too soft for the world to hear. He did not know the weight of a promise made not in greed, but in love, nor the grief of a vow that could never be fulfilled. If he did, perhaps his loathing would have been something else. But he knew only what he wished to see—a man unworthy of the life granted to him.