Die With Me, My Beloved.

Prologue:

The Jian residence burned without flame.

Snow fell silent, heavy, wrong, covering the blood before it could steam.

He was fifteen when he knelt in the courtyard, wrists bound in dragon-forged chains, watching his family executed one by one beneath the imperial decree.

“Treason,” they called it.

His eldest brother did not scream when the blade fell.

His mother did not beg.

Only when the last head hit the frozen stone did Emperor Tian Zhu look away.

“Take the seventh prince,” the Emperor said, voice steady. “Lock him in the Cold Palace.”

A pause.

“Do not kill him.”

That night, he learned two truths:

That loyalty meant nothing.

And that hatred, when fed long enough, could become divinity.

*****************

Golden pillars towered toward the ceiling, carved dragons coiling in eternal fury. Incense burned thick, unable to mask the rot of ambition beneath silk and jade.

The court was in session.

Ministers stood in rows. Princes stood at the sides like sharpened blades, each smiling, each calculating.

Upon the Dragon Throne, Emperor Tian Zhu sat unmoving his expression carved from stone.

A long silence.

Then.

“Issue the decree.”

The eunuch’s voice trembled as he stepped forward, unfurling the imperial edict.

“By the Mandate of Heaven… the Seventh Prince, Jian Wushuang, imprisoned in the Cold Palace for ten years, is hereby released. He is to return to court effective immediately.”

For half a breath

Silence.

Then

Chaos.

“ABSURD!”

“Your Majesty, this violates all precedent!”

“The traitor’s blood has not yet dried!”

A senior minister slammed his forehead to the floor.

Minister Wei cried out “Your Majesty! The Jian clan committed treason against the throne! Their flames nearly destroyed the capital, how can their last remnant be freed?!”

Another voice, sharper, venomous

“Father.”

The Crown Prince Tian Li stepped forward, gold and black robes whispering like funeral cloth.

His smile was courteous.

His eyes were not.

“The court remembers the screams that night. He was already spared death this mercy is… excessive.”

Murmurs rippled through the hall.

“If traitor blood is allowed back into court, what message does that send to the empire?” the 2nd prince said

“That treason has no consequence.” said the 4th prince

Minister zhao stepped forward and bowed “Your Majesty, the people will riot!”

The pressure mounted voices overlapping, fury spilling free.

And yet

The Emperor did not raise his voice.

He slowly stood.

The dragon carved into the throne behind him seemed to loom.

“Wushuang is my son.”Emperor Tian Zhu says calmly

The hall froze.

“Born of Noble Consort Jian. Recognized by the ancestral tablets. His blood is imperial.”

A minister clenched his fists.

“But Your Majesty..... ”Minister Wei began to say

The Emperor’s gaze snapped to him.

“Enough.”

The word landed like a blade.

Still, Tian Li bowed slightly, lips curling.

“Then may this son explain his crimes himself… if he dares show his face.”

A low, cruel chuckle echoed from another the 5th Prince “If he even remembers how to walk after rotting in ice for a decade.”

Laughter followed uneasy, malicious.

Yet beneath the mockery lay fear.

Because everyone remembered one thing:

The Jian family controlled the Dragon Flame.

And even caged dragons dream of fire.

The Emperor lifted a hand.

“The decree stands.”

Then, colder

“Any further opposition will be taken as defiance of the throne.”

Silence crashed down.

Some ministers knelt deeper.

Others clenched their sleeves.

Tian Li’s smile sharpened.

Outside the palace gates, snow began to fall.

************************************

Snow fell silently within the ruined courtyard. Ancient doors were unlocked for the first time in ten years.

Torches flickered as palace guards retreated, fear clear in their eyes.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows of the palace hall.

His hair was ink-black, tied loosely. His robes were plain, too plain for a prince. His eyes, however, were sharp and unreadable, carrying something old and dangerous.

Behind him stood a man leaning lazily against a pillar, arms crossed, a crooked grin on his face.

Lianju spoke quietly, amused.

“Ten years, Your Highness. Fresh air still smells terrible.”

The prince did not smile.

Jian Wushuang replied calmly, politely, coldly.

“So this is freedom.”

Footsteps approached.

An imperial escort knelt.

“Seventh Prince Jian Wushuang,” the guard said. “By decree of His Majesty, you are to return to court immediately. You are… also granted a marriage.”

Wushuang’s gaze lifted slowly.

“Marriage?”

The guard hesitated, then spoke the name.

“Daughter of the Xu Clan.”

For the first time, something flickered behind the prince’s eyes.

He laughed softly, dangerously soft.

“…How thoughtful of Father.”

************************************

The massive doors groaned open.

Not flung.

Not announced with ceremony.

They opened slowly, as if the palace itself hesitated.

Snow-melt clung to the hem of plain black robes as Jian Wushuang stepped inside.

No jade.

No gold embroidery.

No princely insignia.

Only a dark sash and fabric worn thin by years of cold stone.

Yet

The moment his foot crossed the threshold

The temperature in the hall dropped.

Whispers died mid-breath.

A minister’s prayer beads slipped from numb fingers and scattered across the floor.

Behind him, Lianju followed, posture relaxed, grin lazy.

The eunuch’s voice strained.

“Announcing… His Imperial Highness, the Seventh Prince Jian Wushuang.”

The words sounded wrong.

Like naming a ghost.

Wushuang walked forward.

Not hurried.

Not proud.

Each step echoed too clearly.

Some ministers involuntarily leaned back.

Others lowered their heads, sweat beading at their temples despite the winter air.

A junior official trembled so badly he almost collapsed to his knees.

“…He’s alive…” someone whispered.

Another murmured, “His eyes do you feel that?”

The Crown Prince Tian Li watched intently, smile fixed, fingers tightening inside his sleeves.

“Brother looks… well,” the 4th prince said softly, venom beneath silk. “Cold Palace living suits you.”

Wushuang stopped.

Slowly deliberately he lifted his gaze.

His eyes passed over ministers who had signed execution orders.

Over princes who had laughed at his fall.

Over officials whose hands still smelled of Jian blood.

Then

He bowed.

Perfectly.

Impeccably.

“This unfilial son greets His Majesty.”

The hall exhaled too soon.

Because when he straightened

A faint, almost imperceptible ripple spread across the marble floor.

Candles flickered blue.

A senior minister gasped, clutching his

chest as the sensation of death brushed past his soul.

Lianju behind him, tilted his head, amused.

“Careful, Your Highness,” he murmured. “You’ll scare them into honesty.”

Wushuang’s lips curved not quite a smile.

“That would be unfortunate.”

The Emperor looked down at him.

For the briefest instant

Something human crossed Tian Zhu’s face.

Then it vanished.

“Rise, Seventh Prince.”

Wushuang rose.

The Crown Prince stepped forward.

“Brother,” Tian Li said, “ten years is a long time. The court wonders are you still… capable of understanding loyalty?”

A loaded question.

A trap.

Wushuang met his gaze.

His smile was gentle.

His eyes were not.

“Of course, Imperial Brother.”

A pause.

“I learned it very well… watching those who lacked it.”

The hall went dead silent.