The adorable prince's cold Rebellion

The dim candlelight flickered, painting shadows across the desolate Cold Palace. A soft breeze, redolent with damp wood and forgotten herbal scents, drifted through the open windows. On a rickety wooden bed, a tiny figure lay still, his frail body curled beneath a thin blanket, pale as death itself. This was Rong Xuan, the sixth prince, a forgotten child of the Great Xuan Dynasty, left to waste away.

Inside this tiny, abandoned vessel, a new soul stirred, awakening to a torrent of fragmented memories – a lifetime of neglect, humiliation, and desperate, unreciprocated longing. The original Rong Xuan had died, consumed by a fever no imperial physician cared to treat. Now, in his place, a cold, clear determination bloomed.

He opened his eyes, a glint of unsettling clarity replacing the emptiness. 'Since you all despise me so much... then I won't care about you either.' A faint, chilling smirk touched his lips. He wasn't interested in being a tragic prince. From now on, he would live for himself.