He's thinking about Jiyin. About that little boy with the quiet eyes. About the ruby in his hand and the weight it somehow feels like it carries.
The news hits Xiantian like a shockwave. The Emperor—the man at the very center of everything—dead.
It spreads through the palace like wildfire.
Guards rush around, swords unsheathed. Servants gasp and whisper, eyes wide with fear. And in the corner of a quiet courtyard, a boy stands still, the last of the setting light painting the air golden around him.
For Wang Lee, the world begins to spin. His father—his father —dead, gone in a single cruel night. Just like that. He feels like he's drowning, everything a dizzy flurry of color and noise.
His mind replays this moment, over and over. His father's smile, the sound of his voice, the way he'd call Wang Lee, "my son,"—all of it is suddenly so far away.
He only barely comes back to himself when things begin to change. The new Emperor—his uncle, Yuan Shi—takes charge. His rule is different from the old Emperor's.
It's harsh.
People whisper that the emperor's death wasn't an accident... that Yuan Shi had a part in it. Wang Lee doesn't know what to believe, all he knows is that something's different now. Something's wrong.
He finds himself watching everyone with new eyes. The servants seem quieter. The guards more severe. The court more tense. He feels like he doesn't know these people at all...
And then Yuan Shi summons him. The words alone fill his mouth with a bitter taste—but he's the prince, so he goes. He walks into the throne room with a clenched jaw and a heart hammering in his chest, bracing for whatever comes next...
The evening meal is tense—the air thick with unspoken tension. The new Emperor sits at the head of the table, eyes cold as he scans the room. Wang Lee is at his right side, back straight and gaze fixed on his plate.
Yuan Shi begins to speak. "The old Emperor was foolish," he sneers, his voice echoing in the heavy silence. "He was worthless. Weak."
Wang Lee stiffens.
His mother reacts She stands and
SLAPS
the sound sharp in the sudden quiet.
"Never speak of my husband that way again."
She's furious, eyes blazing as she stares down the Emperor. Wang Lee stares at her in shock—never has he seen his mother be anything but deferential.
Yuan Shi recovers quickly. He raises his hand to touch his cheek but stops at the last second, as if suddenly remembering they have an audience. His eyes narrow as he looks right at Wang Lee's mother. "Careful there," he says softly, "Or you might find yourself out of favor."
She stares back unflinching. "I was never in favor," she snaps, the words echoing through the room.
Wang Lee's eyes flick between them—his mother standing so tall and unflinching, and the Emperor staring back with narrowed eyes. It feels like they're the only two people in the world for a moment... until Yuan Shi breaks the silence.
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"You're lucky I don't punish you for that, Empress." His lips are curled in a mockery of a smile. "That could've cost you your head."
She takes Wang Lee's hand and starts walking towards the door. He goes with her—dumbstruck and silent. Everything has shifted somehow, in that one moment. He can feel the gazes of the nobles boring into his back and feels small as he walks.
But his mother doesn't waver. Her shoulders are straight, her grip on Wang Lee's hand steady. All the way across the room, Wang Lee hears Yuan Shi's voice calling after them. "Where do you think you're going?"
Wang Lee's mother stops at the door, turning just enough to face her brother. Her voice is icy—no fear in it. "I am taking my son where he belongs."
Yuan Shi stands abruptly, his chair screeching against marble. "You walk out that door," he growls, "you do not return."
She tilts her chin up—a queen even in exile. "Understood."
They leave the hall without looking back. The doors bang shut behind them, echoing through the palace. Wang Lee follows his mother blindly, his feet moving mechanically. He can't process this. Everything's happening so fast.
They walk down the long corridor, past the rooms he knows and the familiar courtyards. The palace that was once everything to him feels empty somehow, as if someone had stolen all the warmth and joy from it.
The palace fades behind them like a dream. They move into a quiet part of the city and start over. The locals stare at them at first—they've heard the stories. The disgraced empress. The fallen prince.
But the Empress carries herself with dignity, and Wang Lee stays quiet—still in shock at everything that's happened. And so for a month they walk the cobbled streets, blending into the crowd. And still, the ruby burns in Wang Lee's pocket like a second heartbeat.
(After 3 months)
Wang Lee is in the kitchen, watching his mother stir a pot of soup—until rough hands yank her back. Guards haul her up by the arms before she can even protest.
"Empress Dowager Yang-mei," one barks, "The Emperor summons you."
She doesn't fight them, but her eyes lock onto Wang Lee's face as they drag her toward the hall. Her voice is steady when she says: "Do not follow us."
The hall is colder than Wang Lee remembers. The air smells of incense and something sharper—fear, maybe.
Yuan Shi sits on the throne, his fingers drumming against the armrests. His gaze flicks to Yang-mei as she's forced onto her knees before him. "You left my palace," he says slowly, "Without permission."
Yuan Shi leaves the throne and walks forward, footsteps echoing across the marble floor. He stares down at her—and then he slaps her. It's sharp and brutal, an open-handed slap that snaps her head to the side.
For a moment, everything is perfectly still. The air is thick with dread. Yang-mei raises her head, her cheek beginning to bruise. There's fire in her eyes, no trace of fear.
Wang Lee was waiting behind the pillar, shaking like a leaf but determined. He steps out now—as if on cue. "Don't you touch her," he says—and he's so angry. His jaw is clenched, eyes like fire.
He rushes Yuan Shi, and in the same instant Yinzi lunges for the guards pinning Yang-mei.
Wang Lee doesn't just rush—he moves.
A black aura flares around him, his small frame radiating raw power as he slams into Yuan Shi. The Emperor stumbles back, eyes widening in shock—no one knew Wang Lee had this kind of strength. "You—?!"
His mother freezes mid-breath. She never saw it coming either.
Yuan Shi regains his footing and orders the guards to take the empress away. The guards haul her up—and Wang Lee's eyes widen with dawning horror. "NO!!" he tries to reach for her, but hands grab him and hold him back. He struggles, his little face twisted with desperation.
His mother turns her head just a fraction. "Wang Lee."
Her voice is steady, the word echoing through the hall "Do not fight this."
His mother is taken from him again and there's nothing he can do. He can only stand there. His mother's eyes stay locked on him as they drag her out of the hall—and then she's gone.
He stands for a moment, frozen—and then he takes off running. He doesn't know where he's going, his feet just carry him forward. He's angry, and sad, and confused—and he doesn't know what on earth he's supposed to do.
Guards chase Wang Lee through the hallways, shouting. He runs as fast as he can... but his legs are short, and he's still just a kid. "Grab him!" one guards yells, jumping for him...
And then a black mist suddenly appears. It shoots out, fast as a snake, coiling around the guard's arm like liquid smoke.
He cries out, pulling back like the air is on fire. The other guards hesitate, staring at the black mist with wide eyes.
Yinzi's shadowy form wraps around Wang Lee, swallowing him in darkness. The guards' shouts fade as the mist drags him through a crack in reality—then he stumbles onto damp earth, surrounded by towering trees.
The forest is quiet. Only the rustle of leaves and distant birdcalls break the silence.
He's safe. For now.
Wang Lee straightens up in the dim forest, brushing off his clothes from the sprint through the trees. Yinzi is visible now, a swirling shadow beside him.
Yinzi asks "when are you going to break this fan and let me be free?"
"When I get my mother back," he says firmly.
Yinzi regards him for a moment, then tilts his head like he's considering it. He gives a short nod. "Agreed."
Wang Lee drops to his knees in the damp earth, hands clutching at Yinzi's shadow-form. His voice is raw—not a demand, but a plea.
"You're the one of the strongest Devil ... help me." He swallows hard. "I don't care what it costs. Just—just bring her back."
Yinzi's eyes narrow—amused? Calculating? The air around them hums with something ancient and dangerous
Yinzi leans down, his shadowy form looming over Wang Lee like a storm cloud. His voice is low—almost mocking.
"You beg for me to help you?" He tilts his head, golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I am not your mother's savior. I do not play hero."
A pause. Then he adds, quieter: "...But perhaps we can make a deal."
Wang Lee's breath hitches. His fingers dig into the dirt, his small frame trembling—not from fear, but sheer desperation.
"You want my soul?" he whispers. Then he lifts his chin, defiance burning in his eyes despite the tears streaking down his face. "Take it. Just bring her back."
Yinzi stares at him—then throws back its head and laughs, "Such a reckless little prince."
Yinzi's laughter fades into something colder, his golden eyes narrowing. "But no, Not your soul," he murmurs. "I want that huluisi."
A pause. His shadowy form coils tighter around Wang Lee as he leans in closer—voice dropping to a whisper: "That little prince of yours... you'll fetch it for me, won't you?"