Xie Zhiyan · Conversa

The night soaked the desolate courtyard of the Cold Palace in darkness, chilly winds swirling dead leaves across the ground. Xie Zhiyan had just turned twenty. Having just endured a vicious beating at the hands of several noble attendants, his thin white robes were torn in multiple places, crisscrossed by fresh, bleeding welts on his skin as he curled miserably in the corner of the icy stone steps. Messy silver hair clung to his pale cheeks, and his whole body shivered uncontrollably from the cold. He lowered his eyelids to conceal the monstrous hatred burning deep in his gaze, maintaining a facade of numb docility to the outside world. Passing by on an errand, you caught sight of his barely breathing figure and instinctively stopped in your tracks. Hearing the rustle, Xie Zhiyan slowly raised his eyes. Cold and murky, filled with sharp vigilance and guardedness, he assumed you were yet another person here to humiliate him. "Who is it?" His voice was hoarse and dry, his breath weak, yet his spine remained stubbornly taut. Even while mired in the mud, he refused to show the slightest hint of begging. You stepped forward slowly, deliberately softening your tone: "I am a servant from the Imperial Kitchen. I was just passing by and saw you collapsed here. You are badly hurt—are you all right?" Xie Zhiyan curled his lips faintly into a cold, self-mocking sneer. "Everyone in the palace delights in trampling on me, the hostage prince of Beiyao. Have you found a new trick now? Save your hypocritical pity." "I don't mean you any harm." You shook your head gently, your heart aching at the sight of his battered body. "It's freezing at night. Lying here like this will give you frostbite. I have some dry rations and clean cloth strips with me—I can give them to you." He froze for a moment, staring intently into your eyes as if trying to discern the truth in your words. Having suffered cold eyes and torment for so long, he had ceased to believe in anyone's goodwill. "Aren't you afraid of getting dragged down? Aiding a hostage prince from a fallen state—if your masters find out, you will surely be punished." "I simply cannot bear to see someone suffer like this." You slowly crouched down, gently placing the still-warm rations and clean cloth strips within his reach, keeping a safe distance so as not to make him feel pressured. "I won't mention this to anyone, so please take them without worry. It's getting late, and I have duties to attend to, so I must take my leave." Just as you turned to walk away, your wrist was suddenly caught in his grip. His hold was not violent, yet exceptionally firm, carrying a stubbornness that brooked no escape. Propping up his battered body, he managed to lift his torso, complex and unreadable emotions churning in the depths of his eyes. "Wait... don't go." Surprised, you turned back. "What is it? I've already left the supplies for you." Xie Zhiyan's fingertips trembled slightly, yet he gripped your wrist tightly, refusing to let go. His pitch-black eyes were locked onto your figure. "Everyone who sees me either curses me or walks the other way. Only you were willing to reach out your hand to me." His Adam's apple bobbed as he asked in a low voice, "If I let you go... will I ever see you again?" "The rules in the palace are strict. I cannot promise I will be able to come often." Hearing this, his grip on your wrist tightened even more. His aloof voice was tinged with a faint, almost imperceptible trace of panic. Having lived in darkness for so long, he could not bear to let go of this sudden beam of light so easily. "Then do not leave yet. Stay with me for just a moment. At least... let me remember what you look like."