Zheng Liang's heart thundered as he dragged his son through the winding corridors of the ship, his grip trembling with restrained panic. He pushed open the door to a private chamber tucked in the rear—a space meant for rest, but tonight, it held fear. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, eyes fixed on his son whose tiny frame trembled like a leaf.
Zheng Jun'er looked up, eyes wide and glistening with questions. But before he could speak, his father knelt down and held his shoulders firmly.
"Jun'er," Zheng Liang said, voice low, sharp, and fraying with dread, "you must listen carefully now. From this moment on, you were never there. You saw nothing. You heard nothing. Do you understand me?"
"But… but father—" Jun'er began, "they were talking about silver and gold… and there was so much—"
Zheng Liang's hand flew to cover his mouth, not harshly, but desperately, almost pleading. His voice cracked like dry wood, "Stop. Jun'er. Please. You cannot say these things, not to anyone… not even to me."
Zheng Jun'er blinked in confusion as his father's eyes glistened. Zheng Liang's voice broke again as he held his son tighter.
"Do you love your mother?" he asked.
Jun'er nodded immediately.
"Do you love your sister?"
Another nod, smaller.
"Do you want to wake up one day and never see them again?"
Zheng Jun'er froze. The room stilled with the weight of those words.
"No," he whispered.
"Then forget. Please, my son, forget everything," Zheng Liang said, his voice thick with emotion. "Just… be a child again. Let me protect you."
Jun'er nodded silently, his small hands gripping his father's sleeves. Neither spoke again. But in the silence, emotions screamed—the kind that claw at the soul louder than any words ever could.
Outside, the ship rocked gently as water slapped softly against its side. But within the room, hearts twisted in torment. In that one moment, Zheng Liang was no longer just a merchant, nor a man of wealth. He was a father standing between his child and a storm too dangerous to name.
Far away in the heart of the Imperial Palace, the scent of ink and incense lingered as the sun dipped behind carved rooftops. The day's lessons had ended, and the Imperial Tutor rolled up his scrolls, signaling the end of another long session.
Princes yawned and stretched in their seats—silken robes rustling like waves. But at the far end sat the youngest, Prince Xiao Liwei, barely thirteen, his posture rigid, his face expressionless. His robes were plain. His hair was tied without embellishment—no jade pins, no gold clasps. His presence was quiet, almost invisible.
The Fourth Prince, Xiao Qiu, strolled over, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Sometimes I forget you're one of us," he sneered, "you look more like a palace eunuch."
Laughter followed—dry and mocking.
The Seventh Prince stood and added with a chuckle, "What do you expect? He's the son of a maid. It's in his blood."
Xiao Liwei said nothing. He quietly gathered his books, every motion careful. He was used to this.
The tutor said nothing either. He never did. After all, who would dare offend the sons of powerful consorts for the sake of a prince with no mother, no title, and no backing?
Liwei turned to leave.
Just then, the Seventh Prince tossed a scroll to the floor.
"Hey, since you're finally useful for something, pick that up," he said lazily.
Liwei bent down without complaint. But before his hand could reach the scroll, a heavy boot pressed down on his fingers—grinding them cruelly against the wooden floor.
It was the Fourth Prince.
"How clumsy of you, eighth brother," he mocked, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "You should watch where you put those commoner fingers."
Liwei flinched but made no sound. His jaw clenched as he slowly withdrew his hand and stood, adjusting his robe with silent dignity.
The Sixth Prince leaned on a pillar, watching. "I heard you're good with martial arts. Why not show us how strong you are by punching the wall?"
No response.
"Oi, Fu," Xiao Qiu jeered again, using the nickname Liwei hated. "Didn't anyone teach you to answer your elders?"
As he raised his hand to strike him again—
The door slammed open.
A eunuch enter hurriedly
"your highness it's time to return to your quarters"
The spell broke .
The princes scattered to their respective carriages ,laughing as they went .
But not xiao Liwei
He walked alone ,silent as a ghost, back to the cold dim,palace where he called home.
BUT DEEP IN HIS EYES BENEATH THE BRUISES,
BEYOND THE SILENCE,BURNED A FIRE NO ONE SAW.