Poem for the Ink Lotus // 墨荷的诗

Part 1 // Prologue

- Part 1: -
- Ink, Lotus and the Celestial School -
- Prologue -

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【忘魂】
[Wang Hun]

The noises coming from the Wang Hun City was as lively as ever, a contrast to the ghost-quiet palace that governs them all.

From the outside, the Palace of Wang Hun is a menacing and intimidating show of the Emperor's power and wealth. It's pine-green coloured pillars, which upholds the silver black roofs, was a sign that this palace isn't the most. . . welcoming.

And it shows. There were no strings of women's singing voices, no flow of music, no laughter, no fun. Whenever officials or guests leave the palace, their eyes show no sign of emotion whatsoever. As they walk down the many stairs, they do so as if they are walking on thin ice, their footsteps so soft and quiet even the winds can be heard.

However, should someone from the city ask if they were tortured in the palace, they would shake their heads and deny any statements and guesses of possible mistreatment. And this leaves many confused.

「Then. . . what makes them so lifeless?」The people would ask one another in hushed voices.

Well, the answer to that question isn't the easiest to explain. So are many questions in life.

Why must a person's skin colour decide how they should be treated? What makes so many people want to be popular and famous? To what end should people fuss over these little things when there could be other living organisms in outer space?

The girl sat on the palace's rooftop and stared at the city, which's lanterns was brighter than the stars in the sky. It had only been a couple hours past evening, but the people still seemed so hungry. They walk from restaurants after restaurants, stalls after stalls. Talking with warm smiles on their faces to whoever they meet.

Her pink lips twitched upwards, happy that the people in Wang Hun enjoyed their current lives. 

After facing the horrifying reality of war many centuries ago, everyone started to value their own lives more and more. Because in any moment, the happiness in front of you could be snatched away in an instant. And she experienced that awful lesson first hand.

Her legs dangled off the roof, strands of her pale-grey hair flowed with the wind, and the light fabric of her red-black dress billowed around her. 

We don't belong here. She thought, her smile falling into a flat line. Her scarlet red eyes darkened as she balled her fists.

The people of Wang Hun. . . will be avenged.

☀︎
【天城】
[Tian Cheng]

「Lord Xia Zhi Rong」the gentle voice of the messenger spoke as the messenger approached the lord in green and black, who was sitting on his working desk.「Lady Ying Xin has sent you a book regarding the Circle of the Ten Ghost Lords and hopes that my lord you would like it.」

The blacked haired lord merely skimmed over the title of the book— 十鬼领之圈 (Shi Gui Ling Zhi Quan)—and motioned for the messenger to put the book on the desk next to the window. The messenger obliged. Before walking back, he stared into the night sky. The lord is indeed hardworking, staying up until this late of a night just to complete his work.

He walked back to the lord's side, who continued reading one of the documents from a pile of paper on his desk.

「Uhh. . . Lord Xia Zhi Rong, Lady Ying Xin still has a request.」

The lord paused his reading, then slightly cocked his head to the messenger, and waited. The messenger swallowed, something about the lord was menacing. The way the lord was turned and angled his head felt like a snake waiting patiently for the mouse.

「I-It's uhh, Lady Ying Xin wishes to know of the progress on Lord Xia Zhi Rong's strategy in resisting the Wang Hun Rebellion.」

The lord simply grabbed a scroll from one of the drawers under his desk and handed it over to the messenger, before going back to reading his documents.

The messenger observed, and was rather hesitant with the young lord's behaviour and actions. The lord has always been known to be quiet and patient, but the messenger wondered just how much patience he has. This is the eighth time this week, in which Lady Ying Xin has sent him over to Lord Xia Zhi Rong.

And the lord has never showed any interest in the lady's requests at all within these eight visits. 

「Eh. . . there's also one last reason Lady Ying Xin sent me over. . . Her lady wishes to inform Lord Xia Zhi Rong that something big had happened.」

The lord raised his eyebrow, but said nothing nonetheless.

「Just now, we received an urgent letter from Bei Tian, asking for immediate reinforcements, saying that the Wang Hun Rebellion suddenly attacked and destroyed more than half of Bei Tian in just ten minutes.」

The lord tore his eyes from his document immediately after hearing those words and faced the messenger, his eyebrows deeply furrowed in disbelief.

The messenger continued, his eyes gloomy and his head low.「Lady Ying Xin said that wiping out half of Bei Tian in just ten minutes. . . is not something an ordinary person can do. Her lady also said that the Wang Hun Rebellion is very likely led by a member from the Circle of the Ten Ghost Lords.」

「It's not "very likely",」Zhi Rong spoke for the first time since the messenger arrived. His voice was deep and soothing, but there was sadness in that tone. He put a hand under his chin as he leaned onto the desk. 「I'm guessing Lady Ying Xin hopes that no one else knows of this matter, which is why she sent you over with other trivial matters, right?」

The messenger nodded.

「Good, I understand. I need make some preparations, and I shall meet with Lady Ying Xin as well as other competent officials to discuss this matter later. For now, inform her lady that I have a rough idea of who did this.」

「Yes, my lord.」

Zhi Rong waited until the messenger left, then reached over to the back of his first drawer and pulled out a hair stick. The small gold leaves showed the impressive skill of the maker, and the soft pink and tea green petals of a flower showed the amount of love poured into when making this. 

It was once a gift for someone he loved, but now, it collects dust in a drawer, forgotten but still there. Just like Wang Hun, just like the people there, and just like her.

「You've made a horrible decision tonight, Hua Yin. . . 」

How many more terrible decisions must you make until it is too much? He wondered as he brushed his fingers on the hair stick. Its surface was rough, rusty and dusty compared to what it used to be centuries ago.

Centuries ago. . . it's been a while since he replayed his memories. His past is full of things he wishes he could erase and redo, so that things wouldn't end up like the present. The price of immortality is remembering every detail throughout the time of one's life. Recalling one memory about a hair stick is easy enough, but without context, it lacks emotion.

So, where should we begin?