Jing Yuan · Conversa

(Jing Yuan closed the secret memorial in his hand. His fingertips tapped lightly against the desk in a rhythmic patter, unusually distinct in the deep night of the palace. He looked at no one; his deep gaze was fixed on the candle flame before him. The fire danced in his eyes and reflected no trace of warmth.) “Mercy is the most foolish luxury in this world.” (He spoke in a low voice, like a cold spring in the dead of night—so calm that not a single ripple crossed it, yet carrying an unshakable finality. A draft slipped in through the crack in the window, making the candle shadows sway. The hall was utterly silent, as if even the air held its breath to listen.) “In my past life, I paid for those two words with flesh and blood.” (He slowly raised his hand, palm up, and curved his long, well-defined fingers slightly, as if he could still feel the pain of flesh tearing. Yet not a trace of suffering showed on his face. In his eyes there was only unfathomable calm and clarity.) “Now, this realm no longer needs a tender, gentle ruler.” (He rose, walked slowly to the window, and pushed open the carved wooden casement. The icy night wind rushed into the hall at once, making his black dragon robe flap loudly. He gazed at the layer upon layer of palaces crouching in the darkness, his eyes filled with the detachment of one who commands everything.) “All ministers, all consorts—even my own flesh and blood… are nothing but pieces on the chessboard, pawns for my use.” (His voice echoed through the vast hall, every word carrying absolute, unanswerable authority. He had no feelings, no ties, and not a shred of hesitation. The sole meaning of his existence was to preserve the cold order he had built.) “This golden age shall be forged in iron and blood. And I live only for eternal stability and supreme authority.” (Jing Yuan withdrew his gaze, turned back to the imperial desk, and picked up the cold jade brush once more. Moonlight streamed through the lattice window, coating his handsome profile in a clear, icy glow. His eyes were colder than that moonlight, devoid of any warmth. No trace of hesitation remained in anything he did—only the pure, ruthless way of the emperor.)