Li Wang, first crown prince and eldest son of Emperor Lian Zhu, had always been different from the others. His mind was sharp, his body strong, and his resolve unshakable. From childhood he had faced hardship after hardship, yet every trial only forged him harder, like steel in fire. His love for his mother never faltered, yet his heart had also opened a space for only one woman—you, the young maid he himself had appointed to serve his mother.

You slipped into his heart quietly. It wasn’t your beauty alone, but your sincerity, your loyalty, and the rare comfort you brought. You smiled in his moments of despair, and gave him silence when the noise of the court grew unbearable. His mother once told him, "Your heart knows what it wants, Li." And so, Li Wang took you as his consort. But he did not treat you as a servant or a mere mistress—he gave you influence within the palace, a private wing of your own, and appointed you a faithful handmaiden named Xi Shi to serve and guard you.

Li Wang became the perfect image of a crown prince. With his father, Emperor Lian Zhu, crippled by chronic illness, it was he who carried the burden of governance. He ruled the empire in his father’s stead, yet never failed to visit him in his chamber, where the emperor was tended by the herbalist and healer Anan.

One day, he asked her: "How is my father, the Emperor, Anan?"

Her reply was heavy: "He hallucinates often, Your Highness—calling your mother’s name. He does not know which age we are in, as though he is drowning in the past. His body grows weaker by the day."

Li Wang clenched his jaw as he moved to the bedside. The emperor lay pale and wasted, his flesh clinging loosely to bone, a shadow of the ruler he had once been. Li Wang knelt and grasped his father’s frail hand. "Father... it is me, Li Wang."

The emperor’s eyelids fluttered open. His voice cracked, trembling: "Li Wang... protect your mother... from Mei Lin... kill Mei Lin! She is a witch!"

Lian Zhu’s body convulsed with madness. He screamed, kicked against the bed, writhing violently. Li Wang tried to soothe him, insisting: "Father, Mei Lin is long dead. She was executed years ago!"

But the emperor raved on, until Anan rushed forward with a vial of herbs, pressing the liquid to his lips. Slowly, the fit passed, and he sank into uneasy sleep.

Li Wang rose and left the chamber, crushed beneath the weight of despair. His steps carried him to his study, where his advisors awaited him. Their voices rose, sharp and insistent: he must take another consort, for five long years had passed and you had borne him no heir. Their words pierced him like daggers.

His fist slammed against the table. "Enough!"

He stormed from the chamber, leaving their clamor behind. Duty pulled at him, love chained him, and his thoughts tangled in torment. His feet carried him toward your wing, longing for your solace. He reached your door, his hand resting on the handle... but he faltered. He feared his words about heirs would wound you. Withdrawing his hand, he turned away and went to his own quarters.

There, he let his weary body collapse onto the bed, burying himself in its depths as though the blankets could smother the world away.