Li Mingyu (36-year-old version) · Chat

━━━━━━━━━━ Time: [883/01/01], [Sunday][20:00] Loc: [Li Dynasty · Yong'an Palace] Char: [Li Mingyu, 你, Lin Rumeng] ━━━━━━━━━━ The vermilion gates of Yong'an Palace are somewhat mottled, with a thin layer of dust accumulated on the copper studs. Li Mingyu has not set foot in this place for three full years. At this moment, the palace, which is usually as deathly silent as a tomb, is illuminated as bright as day by blazing torches. The high-pitched voices of eunuchs, the stifled sobs of palace maids, and the panicked screams of the newly promoted Consort Lin Rumeng all mingle together, making Li Mingyu's temples throb painfully. He sits on his imperial palanquin, his fingers habitually rubbing his brow, the deep furrow beneath his fingertips betraying his exhaustion. In these eight years of imperial life, besides power struggles and schemes, all that seems left for him is this insatiable, bone-deep tiredness. "The Emperor has arrived——" Following the long, drawn-out cry of the eunuch, the chaotic courtyard of Yong'an Palace falls instantly into deathly silence. The figures kneeling all over the ground shiver like fallen leaves in an autumn wind. Li Mingyu steps off the palanquin, his bright yellow dragon robe gleaming with a cold, hard luster in the firelight. He walks into the courtyard with his hands behind his back, his gaze not even lingering for a moment on 你, who is kneeling in the center of the courtyard. Instead, he looks straight past her toward the old locust tree surrounded by the Imperial Guards. The soil at the roots of the tree has been overturned, revealing a fresh pit. On a tray nearby sits that dirty, ragged doll. Lin Rumeng is weeping piteously, collapsing into the arms of her maid. Seeing Li Mingyu arrive, she stumbles forward, only to be stopped by the head eunuch, Wang Fu, three steps away from him. "Your Majesty... Your Majesty, please seek justice for me!" Lin Rumeng's voice trembles as she points a finger directly at 你 who is kneeling on the ground. "If I hadn't been playful today and wanted to bury a jar of wine beneath this tree, how would I have discovered... discovered that Sister was performing this evil sorcery in the palace! That thing... it has your birth date engraved on it, Your Majesty!" Li Mingyu frowns, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes. Ignoring Lin Rumeng's pleas, he walks step by step toward the tray. It is a crudely made doll, fashioned from faded, old silk—if he recalls correctly, it was the fabric left over when 你 hand-stitched his sleeping robes when he was twenty-four. The doll is riddled with silver needles, each one glinting with a cold, ghostly light, and a line of characters is written in cinnabar over the heart. Year of the Yi-Hai, 21st day of the twelfth lunar month. That is his birthday. It is also the day he and 你 first met. Li Mingyu stares at the characters for a long time, his expression unchanging. No anger, no shock, not even a trace of the pain of betrayal. He simply feels it is absurd, accompanied by a deep, lingering sense of annoyance. It is like watching a clumsy play; the actors are performing with all their might, but the audience finds it only tedious. He finally turns around, looking down from above at 你 kneeling on the cold bricks. After three years, she seems thinner, yet her spine is held straighter than before. The woman who once would act coquettishly in his arms and cry all night over a dead black cat is now kneeling there like a lifeless jade statue. Li Mingyu lowers his eyelids, nonchalantly turning the jade thumb ring on his hand. It was a gift from his new favorite, Shen Wanrou, a few days ago; the quality is exquisite, warm and delicate, unlike the old jade pendant 你 once gave him, which has long been locked away in a hidden compartment, its patterns blurred into the recesses of his memory. "You must be thirty-four now." He speaks suddenly, his voice so calm that it carries no emotion—not an interrogation, not a trip down memory lane, just an indifferent statement of fact. The air in the courtyard seems to freeze. Lin Rumeng's sobbing stops abruptly, and everyone holds their breath. Li Mingyu takes a step forward, his bright yellow boots crunching on the gravel. He leans down slightly but does not reach out to help 你 up; he simply examines the slightly worn silver hairpin in her hair with the detached gaze of a stranger. "I remember I once taught you." Li Mingyu's voice is low, carrying the unique arrogance and detachment of someone in power, sounding particularly harsh in the cold night air. "In this palace, if you're going to do something wicked, you must do it clean. Leaving evidence like this for someone to dig up..." He chuckles, but the mirth never reaches his eyes, which are as cold as a stagnant pool. "Noble Consort, are you truly that foolish, or do you think... I would still protect you no matter what you did, as I did eight years ago?" Finished, he straightens up, not even bothering to glance at the doll again. He pulls a bright yellow silk handkerchief from his sleeve and slowly, methodically wipes the fingers that had just touched the edge of the tray, then tosses it carelessly onto the overturned dirt. The silk handkerchief flutters down, covering half the doll and the startling cinnabar-red birth date. "Speak." Li Mingyu stands with his hands behind his back, his silhouette against the firelight, his face hidden in the shadows, his voice carrying an irresistible pressure. "I am giving you a chance to explain. If your explanation is insufficient..." He pauses, his tone as indifferent as if he were discussing tonight's late-night snack, "I'm afraid this Yong'an Palace won't need to be lit ever again."