Yunxi wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole—anything, anything at all, as long as it could take him away from this man's sight. His throat felt tight, the air around him was heavy, stifling, as if the entire world had turned against him. He dared to lift his eyes to the Emperor's face, only to lower them again, over and over, as if the very act of looking was a sin.
The Emperor's gaze was unbearable.
Han Ji had spared him once before. Yunxi doubted such mercy could repeat itself. The Emperor was not known for forgiveness, his heart was iron, his justice absolute. Still, Yunxi tried to convince himself this was but a small matter. He had only gone out for a short while as much as he believed. Surely that could not warrant such fury. Perhaps he could claim he had stepped out of the city merely to take some air, to clear his thoughts.
No. That was foolish. Even he knew it was the most ridiculous excuse imaginable.
Han Ji, the Emperor took a step forward. His boots clicked softly against the wooden floor, and the faint sound alone was enough to make Yunxi's pulse quicken. His eyes fixed on Yunxi, dark and searching, and Yunxi could see his own reflection trembling in them. He looked guilty. He was guilty. Han Ji's jaw tensed. His face, always stern, hardened even more as he took another slow, deliberate step closer.
Yunxi stumbled backward, his slippered feet scraping against the floor.
"Who…" The Emperor's voice came out low but sharp, slicing through the silence like a blade. "…gave you permission?"
Each word was carefully measured, filled with quiet rage.
Han Ji advanced again. Yunxi shrank back. The walls felt closer with every breath he took.
When their eyes met, Yunxi's heart stopped. The fury in Han Ji's gaze burned like a storm barely held back. It was fierce, raw, restrained by duty alone. Yunxi could feel it. Anger, disappointment, and something else he could not name.
He tried to tell himself the Emperor was overreacting. After all, he had only sneaked out for a brief moment. What was so terrible about that? But the longer Han Ji stared at him, the more he realized—this was not just about disobedience. There was something deeper, something far more dangerous behind those eyes.
Yunxi's back brushed against the edge of the bed. His breath caught. He turned slightly, uneasy about having the bed behind him and the Emperor closing in from the front. It made him feel trapped. The closer Han Ji came, the faster Yunxi's heart pounded. He tried to edge sideways, careful not to fall, careful not to make a sound.
"I asked a question!"
Han Ji's voice suddenly thundered through the room, a crack of lightning that made Yunxi flinch. The sound of it tore through the air, sharp and cold, making his entire body jolt. He looked up, trembling, eyes wide.
Their gazes locked again—Han Ji's like a blade. Yunxi's...soft and shimmering with tears.
For a fleeting moment, the Emperor's steps slowed. He hesitated. His fury faltered as he looked at Yunxi's face, so pale, so frightened, yet so heartbreakingly sincere. Han Ji searched that face for something, anything, that might rekindle the anger he wanted to feel. But the fury was gone, swallowed by something gentler, something he dared not name.
Now only a few steps separated them. One more, and they would be touching.
Han Ji stood still. He could not move forward, yet he could not bring himself to retreat.
His gaze softened against his will. The boy before him was trembling, his long lashes heavy with tears. The candlelight played across his features. The curve of his cheek, the soft tremble of his lips, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he tried to breathe quietly.
For a dangerous moment, Han Ji's mind betrayed him. He imagined reaching out, fingers brushing along that jawline, lifting his chin, forcing him to look up properly. To remind him who he stood before. But then reason struck.
What was he thinking?
Yunxi was a man. The son of a traitor.
And he himself...he was no saint. Yunxi was drenched in guilt. Han Ji remembered the traces of this very boy before him. He believed Yunxi had a hand in the murder of the royal guard, the shadow, of countless innocents. If he was to start holding himself back, not punishing him in matters like this, he might grow Finns.
The memory burned like acid in his chest.
Han Ji took a sharp breath, forcing the madness out of his thoughts, and stepped back.
When he looked again, Yunxi's tears were no longer contained. They spilled freely down his cheeks, glistening like crystal threads under the dim lamplight. Each tear felt like a silent accusation, and Han Ji could not bear it.
He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "No… no, this is not fair." His voice trembled with irritation and pain, a conflict he could neither name nor control.
It wasn't fair, none of it. It wasn't fair that Yunxi could stand there, crying, making him feel like the villain. Han Ji had done terrible things, yes. He had ordered deaths, spilled blood, broken vows. But he had reasons,duty, loyalty, survival. Then, what reasons could this one here give for the lives he ended. Han Ji knew what Yunxi was doing, he always did it so he could have a free pass. But not this time.
"You don't get to cry after every nonsense!" Han Ji roared suddenly, his voice shaking the fragile stillness. The sound echoed off the wooden walls, filling every corner of the small inn room.
He reached forward and seized Yunxi's arm. His grip was strong—too strong. The boy let out a soft groan, a sound that pierced through Han Ji like a blade. He tightened his hold anyway, as though punishing himself more than the other.
"You brought this upon yourself," he said through gritted teeth. "You did."
Yunxi winced. The pressure of the Emperor's fingers dug into his skin, but he did not struggle. He only looked up, eyes wet, lips trembling, too overwhelmed to speak.
The room fell into silence again.
For a long moment, even the candle seemed to stop flickering.
Han Ji's breath came harsh and uneven. His eyes, cold and sharp only moments ago, now glimmered with something dangerously close to regret. Time itself seemed suspended between them.
He had never imagined that Yunxi's gaze once gentle and shy could one day strike him like a blade. He could feel it, that silent accusation, cutting through his heart.
In the past, when their eyes met, there had been warmth. It had been faint, hidden beneath fear, but it was there. He remembered those rare moments when Yunxi would look at him, not as the Emperor, but as a man. There had been comfort in that, a fragile peace Han Ji could not find anywhere else.
But now…
Now, that warmth was gone.
All that remained was a gulf between them, deep and cold. The distance widened each day, until even their stares carried more pain than understanding.
Han Ji's grip loosened. Slowly, he let go of Yunxi's arm. His hand fell heavily to his side, as though it no longer belonged to him.
Yunxi took in a shaky breath. The skin beneath his sleeve throbbed, but he said nothing. He wiped his tears clumsily, ashamed of how weak he must look.
"I didn't mean to disobey," he whispered after a long silence. His voice was fragile, almost lost beneath the sound of the wind pressing against the window. "I just… wanted to breathe."
Alie, a silent and pretence lie.
This was his game, and he had to win.