Far away, within the grand palace, Emperor Han Ji sat upon his throne. Yet his mind was far from the chamber.
"Nim Si?" he repeated softly, then chuckled, a strange, bitter laugh that startled the officials gathered before him. 'Nim Si. Nim Si… hah! Do you love him too, Yunxi?'
The officials paused mid-debate, exchanging uncertain glances. None dared to interrupt the emperor when his thoughts wandered. He surely looked lost.
Han Ji's fingers drummed against the arm of his throne. His eyes were cold, distant, fixed not on the men kneeling before him but on some faraway memory. News from his spies echoed in his ears: Yunxi had failed to attend court, pleading sudden illness. A fever, they said. Han Ji had not believed it.
He knew Yunxi too well.
And so he had sent his shadows into the city. They had returned with confirmation: Yunxi had sneaked past the gates, gone in secret to seek someone.
Han Ji's amusement had been sharp, cruel. The boy who once trembled before him now dared to disobey.
He had ordered them to follow Yunxi, unseen. Not to interfere, not yet. He wanted to see what Yunxi plotted in that clever but reckless head. What plans he dared to weave against the will of the emperor.
And then the name came to him: Gong Nim Si.
Han Ji leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing. The name rang like a bell through the corridors of memory. He remembered Yunxi mentioning him once, long ago—an old physician's son. But the bell rang louder, deeper, until Han Ji recalled the night his mother died.
Yes. That was it. The old physician who had performed the autopsy on his mother. The boy Nim Si, standing beside Yunxi that very night. Yunxi's friend, the doctor's son.
And now, years later, Yunxi sought him again.
How interesting.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" a voice broke his reverie.
Han Ji blinked, the fog of his thoughts lifting. He looked around, momentarily lost, like a boy shaken awake from a dream.
"Are you well, Your Majesty?" an official ventured carefully.
Han Ji's lips curved faintly, but it was no smile. "Those I sent beyond the city—have they left yet?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. They departed this morning."
"Good." He rose abruptly, his robes sweeping across the floor. "I will go. I don't feel well here."
The court stared after him, bewildered, as he strode out without another word.
---
In the corridor, a figure waited.
"Your Majesty, I greet you," came the soft voice of Lady Meiylin.
Han Ji stopped, his expression freezing into unreadable stone. He turned his gaze upon her slowly. Studying her he asked, "Are you better now?"
Meiylin smiled, though her eyes betrayed sorrow. "Yes, Your Majesty. Much better than before. But…" her voice faltered, and her smile dimmed. "You did not return after that day. I only wanted you to comfort me sometimes. When my illness strangles me at night…"
Han Ji looked away, his jaw tightening. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the servants around them.
He opened his mouth, perhaps to speak, but Meiylin's sudden cough silenced him. She pressed a handkerchief to her lips, her shoulders trembling. At once, Han Ji stepped forward, catching her gently, his hands firm around her frail frame. His face filled with concern that seemed too raw for an emperor.
"Your Majesty, you should not be near her," Eunuch Song whispered urgently. "What if you catch her illness?"
"I do not think that will happen," Han Ji replied quietly, his voice like stone. "She has lived with it since she was a child. And I have been near her many times. If her illness wished to claim me, it would have done so long ago."
He straightened, his gaze commanding. "Leave us. From this day forward, she will remain in my quarters."
The servants bowed, retreating with hushed murmurs.
Meiylin's tears spilled freely now as she buried her face against the emperor's chest. "Your Majesty, I am grateful for everything you do for me," she whispered, her words breaking with emotion.
Han Ji's hand rested against her back, steady but heavy, like a man carrying a weight no one else could see. Slowly, they walked together toward his quarters.
Behind them, Eunuch Song followed at a careful distance. His eyes lingered on the emperor's back, his heart heavy with questions he dared not ask.
Why did the emperor never send her away?
Meiylin's kingdom was small, insignificant beneath the shadow of his empire. There was no political need to indulge her every wish, no reason to keep her so close. And yet he did. He granted her every request. He bore her presence like a chain around his heart.
Eunuch Song lowered his gaze, sighing softly. The emperor was the most powerful man in the realm, yet whenever he walked beside Meiylin, he always looked… unbearably sad. Why couldn't he just send her away. It's like their were chains that bound him with her.