Unrequited Love

#12 : Sacrifice

The grand halls of the palace were sombre and filled with a heavy silence as the dynasty gathered to pay their final respects to Yue Song Qi, the beloved mother of Emperor Xing Chen. The air was thick with grief, and the courtiers, servants, and nobles from far and wide had all come to attend the solemn funeral.

In the midst of the mournful assembly, Xiao Wei stood with a heavy heart, her injured form leaning gently against Cheng Jia Jia for support. The wounds from the explosion were still fresh, but she had insisted on being present to pay her respects to the matriarch, who had been a guiding presence in the palace for years.

As the ceremony began, the palace echoed with the mournful melodies of traditional funeral music, and the scent of incense filled the air. The grandeur and solemnity of the occasion were befitting of a woman of Yue Song Qi's stature.

Emperor Xing Chen, dressed in mourning attire, stood at the forefront of the gathering, his grief-stricken face a reflection of the dynasty's collective sorrow. His eyes, though filled with tears, remained resolute as he bid a final farewell to his mother.

Xiao Wei watched in silence as the funeral procession moved forward, the weight of the moment pressing upon her. Despite her own physical pain, she remained steadfast, a symbol of support for the royal family and a reminder of the trials that the dynasty faced.

As the funeral procession concluded and the dynasty began to disperse, Xiao Wei's keen eyes caught sight of a familiar figure lurking in the shadows. Her heart skipped a beat as the memories of the earlier attack rushed back to her. It was unmistakably the same black figure that she had encountered before—the enigmatic assailant who had attempted to take her life.

However, a chilling realisation gripped her. She knew that Yue Hua Xian, the initial suspect, had been present at the funeral, ruling him out as the perpetrator behind the recent threat. The question gnawed at her: If not him, then who could this shadowy figure be?

Xiao Wei's senses went on high alert as she discreetly signalled Cheng Jia Jia to stay vigilant. With her injuries still fresh, she couldn't afford to be careless, but she also couldn't ignore the presence of a potential threat within the palace grounds.

As she kept a watchful eye on the mysterious figure, her mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of their identity and motives. This was the only opportunity for Xiao Wei to prove herself as the sword-wielder for one last time. Ignoring the heavy injuries on her body, she decides to leave Cheng Jia Jia's side, rushing to the figure and chasing it through the hallways as she ignored the sharp rushing pain that surpassed her body every time her feet contacted the floor.

The two reach the dead end of the palace, and Xiao Wei slowly walks towards the dark-clothed figure. A needle is thrown towards Xiao Wei as she dodges it swiftly, turning her body to the side. She snaps her head at the figure, and it jumps towards Xiao Wei, ready to attack. As he attempts to punch her face, she quickly bends back, moving backward.

With a swift and expertly executed stomp, Xiao Wei's palm crashes into the figure's chest, sending it hurtling backward. The impact is bone-jarring, and the intruder slams into the unforgiving concrete wall of the palace. As the figure crumples to the ground, its mask tumbles off, revealing the bloodied and disoriented face of Zheng.

Blood drips from Zheng's split lips as he struggles to focus on Xiao Wei. The shock of the sudden attack and the force behind it have left him in a state of disarray.

Xiao Wei, her senses sharpened by adrenaline, draws her tall metal sword, its blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light of the palace corridor. She aims the weapon at Zheng, her eyes narrowed in determination.

"Are you working with Yue Hua Xian?" She demands, her voice cold and resolute, each word dripping with intensity.

Zheng wheezes, his breathing labouring as he clutches his chest, trying to regain his composure. "Who is that?" he croaks, raising a trembling eyebrow in defiance.

Xiao Wei inches the sharp tip of her sword closer to Zheng's eye, her controlled rage evident. She threatens him with the weapon, a mere hair's breadth away from piercing his skin. "I said," she growls, her voice like ice, "are you working with Yue Hua Xian?"

Desperation overtakes Zheng's face as he shakes his head frantically. "No!" he cries out, his voice hoarse and pleading. "I don't know who that is!"

Xiao Wei tightens her grip on Zheng's collar and, with a determined resolve, drags his battered body through the corridor, the echoes of their struggle reverberating through the main hall. Gasps and shocked murmurs ripple through the gathering of guests, who bear witness to the unfolding drama.

A crimson trail of blood marks their path, originating from Xiao Wei's reopened wound, a testament to her unyielding determination.

Emperor Xing Chen, seated on his throne, watches the scene with a mix of astonishment and apprehension. He starts to rise, his instinct urging him to go to Xiao Wei's aid, but then he hesitates, the memory of her past actions flashing before his eyes. He clenches his fists, his expression conflicted, and ultimately decides to remain seated.

Xiao Wei, her strength waning, reaches the foot of the throne and unceremoniously throws Zheng at Xing Chen's feet. She struggles to maintain her composure, her voice trembling with pain as she addresses the emperor.

"Your Majesty," she says, her words laced with urgency, "he is the assassin!"

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, Xiao Wei collapses to her knees, clutching her wounded arm.

Jia Jia, her face etched with deep concern, rushes to her side and helps her to her feet.

Xing Chen gazes down at Zheng, his face a mask of unreadable emotions. After a tense moment of contemplation, he takes a deep breath and addresses the palace guards.

"Take him away," he commands.

The guards promptly seize Zheng and drag him away, his anguished cries fading into the distance.

Jia Jia supports Xiao Wei as they slowly exit the hall, leaving behind a bewildered and intrigued court. Xing Chen watches them go, his heart heavy with a newfound sense of complexity and uncertainty in the palace.

Several days after the dramatic encounter with Zheng, Xing Chen found himself standing outside Xiao Wei's chamber. He had wrestled with his thoughts and feelings since that fateful day, torn between his growing admiration for Xiao Wei's unwavering dedication to the dynasty's safety and the burden of their complicated relationship.

With a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door and entered, finding Xiao Wei seated by a window, gazing out at the palace grounds. Her arm had healed considerably, thanks to the palace physicians, but the wounds ran deeper than the physical.

Xing Chen approached her cautiously, his footsteps barely audible on the soft palace rugs. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Xiao Wei," he said, his voice gentle and filled with a sense of determination.

She turned to look at him, her expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. The tension in the room was palpable as they confronted the unspoken emotions that lingered between them.

"I've thought long and hard about everything that has transpired," Xing Chen continued. "I must admit, your dedication to protecting the dynasty is undeniable. You've proven your loyalty time and again."

Xiao Wei met his gaze, her eyes guarded but searching for his true intentions.

"I've decided to reinstate you as the sword-wielder of the dynasty," Xing Chen declared, his voice steady. "Your skills and commitment are too valuable to lose."

A mixture of relief and gratitude washed over Xiao Wei's face as she absorbed his words. The weight that had been pressing down on her heart began to lift, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice tinged with sincerity. "I promise to continue serving the dynasty with all my strength and loyalty." Xing Chen nodded in response.