Chapter 644: Born a Qilin Heir—What Blood Can Wash This? (Five)

The sky gradually cleared from dark gray to a cold blue, and the moon grew bright.

Even with extra layers of clothing, the moment darkness fell, the cold pierced straight into the bones—a thin, icy hardness clinging to the skin, with occasional gusts of chill seeping through and crawling inside.

Meng'er knew this wasn't something extra clothes could fix; wrapping herself in thick new cotton and laboring outdoors shouldn't make her shiver so violently, for the body should warm itself from within, at most developing frostbitten fingers, toes, or ears.

But she lacked such vigorous strength—merely sustaining her body consumed nearly half her energy; after a little labor, the warmth barely rose before her body collapsed into exhaustion, forcing her to sit on the ice and gasp. The sweat on her skin quickly cooled, her slender frame thin as paper that a breeze could tear through.

Worse still, she couldn't even stand and jump.

This constant cycle of sudden cold and heat would surely break her body, but let whatever illness come next—just don't let her faint today.

Meng'er warmed her frozen hands in her lap, adjusted her seated posture, and stretched out her intact leg; the pose resembled a frog dragging a broken limb. Her body was stiff with cold, and the old pains no longer registered… The Prince should be at the banquet by now—how is his speech going?

Of course there's no hope, she thought.

The Prince has been saying for several nights that she's been discussing escape plans with Lord Xiang Yongji, but she could see clearly—he hadn't found any answers.

She couldn't find any answers either.

Because the Prince is a true-blooded heir—this is a matter as massive as a mountain.

Meng'er still remembers that scene, vivid and sharp in her memory.

It was the morning the Prince went for the Blood of the Qilin test; sunlight outside the door illuminated everything brightly. She stood in the dim hall, watching the Prince's back being drawn into the light, as if everything would soon improve. The Empress, reclining on the bed beside her, whispered softly: "Heaven protect us—may Long'er never test true blood…"

At the time, Meng'er was only eight, but she already understood many things. She looked up in silence, seeing dry strands of hair falling across the woman's pale, thin, gentle, powerless face—that was the final image the Empress Mei left in her memory.

Long after, Meng'er gradually understood that plea.

The Great Ming Palace was not beautiful at all—it was so cold it choked the breath. Two childhood master and servant, like abandoned beasts huddling together for warmth in a frozen wasteland.

Perhaps they could have adapted here, like the Ninth Prince, finding their place within the rigid hierarchy and rules, enough for the two of them to survive. But Meng'er knew how close the Prince had come to breaking that night, when her leg was broken, bleeding, and shoved back into Qingsi Palace.

After that, it was impossible.

The Prince always told her they would leave this place together, someday—Meng'er loved hearing it. It usually happened when the Prince massaged her lower limbs, then they lay together, talking of what they'd do once free, often the happiest moment of the day.

So when she saw that flower, she truly felt as if in a dream—as if a celestial had bathed her in moonlight.

They say it is the sacred prohibition of the Qilin Deity—without His permission, no Qilin heir may leave the Divine Capital.

They say it is the forbidden zone of the Five Surnames—true blood must never be sown among outsiders; it is an affair that shakes the Tang Dynasty.

Lord Xiang Yongji's heir cannot take the Prince away… Only she can.

Meng'er tilted her head slightly, her eyes shimmering with light.

In her vision, that soft, beautiful flower had never vanished—it grew from the corner of her eye, swaying before her. Petals shaped like willow leaves or cicada wings, the silk ribbons wrapped around the stem like mist gathered from a mountain stream.

How could such a flower exist in the mortal world? Unless it grew from a dream.

She was willing to let the Prince think she did foolish, childish things every day; she couldn't explain to Lord Pei that she wasn't mad from dreaming. In the palace, "Wei Wei Qingju" was a dangerous name—she knew she was doing something perilous, so she couldn't drag anyone else into it.

But this dream alone was not false—it had truly appeared before her eyes.

In her most lifeless, hopeless moment.

After Empress Mei's death, Qingsi Palace plunged into darkness. The Prince, still a child, had become someone else entirely—once always climbing onto Meng'er's lap to recount new ideas for activating Qilin blood, darting around the courtyard with a sword like a lively monkey, now suddenly silent, as if deaf to the world for one or two years.

Later, Meng'er heard that Qilin heirs were precocious, all child prodigies, especially after true blood awakened… Hearing this, her heart trembled.

Back then, watching the Prince like this, she dreamed every night of Empress Mei sitting with them in the courtyard under the sun, the woman's warm hand stroking the back of her head, her legs folded opposite the Prince, who laughed and played endlessly. She said: "Meng'er, you're the elder sister—you must care for Long'er; Long'er…"

Every time she dreamed this scene, she jolted awake in the night, unable to sleep again.

She couldn't care for the Prince properly. About Qilin blood, the more she asked, the more hopeless she felt—she knew no one, and couldn't cultivate.

So when she heard those legends about the former Empress, she became obsessed and wouldn't let go.

Legends said the former Empress was a compassionate soul who saved the suffering; legends said that any palace maid who spoke to her could leave the Great Ming Palace; legends said that even after leaving, she still remembered the servants—anyone in despair could escape through the "Fourteenth Gate" she left behind.

Legends said… she could not bear the suffering brought by Qilin blood, so she left behind a secret method to wash it away.

Meng'er knew this sounded like self-deception, but every night, waking from her bed to stare out the window, these legends clawed at her chest like talons.

What if… what if?

She spent a long time investigating and asking questions, and a long time quietly preparing, until one night she decided to visit the abandoned Mingyue Palace. She had considered much, prepared much—but she never realized she was only fourteen.

Caught trespassing in a forbidden zone, she was thrown into Yeting Prison. Terrified, she wept uncontrollably, collapsed from pain, and woke to find the sky dark again—returned to Qingsi Palace. Then she discovered her left leg was gone.

It took her a long time to accept this truth, and she could never forget the Prince's face—crying and furious, caring for her while shouting at her constantly; for those days, no candle was lit in Qingsi Palace at night.

She feared the Prince's anger, so the first time she tried to stand with her crutch, she did it secretly. She staggered out the door, fell in the courtyard, couldn't rise again, covered in mud, wounds reopening and bleeding—she broke down and wept.

She feared the Prince returning to see her like this. She couldn't accept she could never walk normally again. She didn't understand why she'd been so foolish as to believe such a distant legend, bringing her to this state.

It was then. She couldn't say exactly when—but tears blurred her vision. When she wiped them with her sleeve, that beautiful, swaying flower bloomed at the corner of her eye.

Then, in the soft glow it emitted, she saw handwriting-like characters: "You seem to be the saddest little girl in the palace, so the Luo Goddess heard your inner call. What troubles you? Tell me about it."

Meng'er stood frozen, dumbstruck, saying nothing for a long while. Then two sentences surfaced.

"So that's how it is… How pitiful. But it's fine—you sought out the legends of the Luo Goddess, so you must have heard of the 'Fourteenth Gate of the Great Ming Palace.'"

"Yes! The secret passage is real! When it appears, you'll see it through this flower."

Meng'er stared, dazed and trembling, as the characters slowly changed into the final line—as if heaven had handed her a promise.

"Because you've received the flower, you may leave this place."

Meng'er lowered her gaze, staring blankly at the deeply chiseled ice hole, then smiled with quiet hope.

Her body was nearly too cold to bear, and exhaustion had finally lessened. Tonight's moon was exceptionally beautiful.

Since then, she searched for a very long time, and gradually learned to smile—meeting every circumstance with a smile, even surprising the Prince with her daily cheerfulness. Because no matter when, that divine flower swayed in her vision.

No one else could see it, she thought in pain.

Meng'er adjusted her posture and raised her iron pick again, striking down with all her strength.

Three years have passed, and she still hasn't found the promised passage. Sometimes she thought it was because fate hadn't yet arrived—that she and the Prince hadn't grown enough to bear the consequences of such upheaval.

Sometimes she thought the Empress was testing her sincerity—that only in the deepest despair would the gate open for her, just as she'd seen this flower. So she endured her fatigue and discomfort, climbing this mountain again and again.

Then… it must be now.

This strike sent ice shards flying, grazing her swollen cheek—sharp, icy pain flared. Meng'er's eyes burned, and inexplicably, tears streamed down.

She wiped them with her sleeve and struck the ice again.

Because there's no other chance, Empress—only by washing away the Prince's Qilin blood can she marry Lord Xiang Yongji… Only by washing away the Prince's Qilin blood can she marry Lord Xiang Yongji.

So today, she must break through this ice—the door must lie beneath it, must, must.

She struck again with all her strength, her mind seemingly frozen—only her body repeatedly bent and straightened, her cracked lips pressed together, her eyes reflecting a faint glow, as if gilded with water… until—*splash*.

The dark ice shattered beneath her blow. Suddenly, a vast, unknown soft light surged upward from beneath the water. The girl's downcast eyes seemed filled with blossoms, her entire dazed pupil glowing blue.

A square of ice half a zhang across sank beneath the surface, as if entering an unknowable space—only rippling emerald water remained, with a full moon reflected upon it.

Meng'er shrieked in wild joy, forgetting her limbs, leaping up, slipping and spinning twice on the slick ice, forgetting even her swimming ability, and flinging herself into it as if falling.

Then she suddenly felt the world spin—stunned, she realized she'd fallen forward… yet stood upright. A path lay beneath her feet, no sensation of weightlessness—as if that had truly been a… doorway one could step through.

Meng'er had dreamed countless times of entering the "secret passage," but none compared to this—flowers of divine beauty, which she thought could not exist twice in the world, were everywhere here—one, two, five… more and more, stretching endlessly ahead.

A curtain of water seemed to drift from the heavens, the black sky dotted with silver stars. At the path's end stood a vermilion wall, impossibly long.

A closed gate was embedded in the wall, directly facing her.

She had never imagined such a quiet, beautiful world.

Then she stepped forward, and a soft voice came from her side: "Congratulations. Your wish has been fulfilled."

Meng'er turned her head, her excited tears still wet. At this moment, she was certain she was dreaming—only dreams could mix such illogical scenes, abruptly inserting nightmare imagery into a beautiful one.

But it wasn't.

Yu Sicong stood beside her, a great spear slung across his back: "It was hard. I know. The Empress would never abandon a kind, suffering child like you."

Meng'er's entire body turned icy. She opened her mouth, then froze. After a long moment, she whispered: "You—you leave. This place is the Empress's gift to me… you can't enter…"

"You do your thing. I do mine. We have nothing to do with each other." Yu Sicong gazed calmly ahead, then lowered his head to pull a wheeled chair carrying someone. "The secret passage you seek lies before you. Pass through it, and you'll leave the Great Ming Palace. Go—I won't stop you."

"…I didn't come for the secret passage." Meng'er felt her throat tighten, words barely forming. "I came to retrieve the method to wash away Qilin blood… the Empress left it here…"

"That is not what the Luo Goddess peach promises you. You cannot obtain it."

"I can. I—I am the one the Empress chose. I searched for so long. The Empress has already opened the door for me…"

"You are not. These two things are unrelated." Yu Sicong spoke calmly, walking forward. "Leave. That was her promise to you."

"I am!" Meng'er cried urgently, grabbing his robe. "I—I have this flower growing on my eye! Only I can see it! You—you don't understand—"

"Are you an idiot?" Yu Sicong stopped, frowning at her.

"…."

"I planted that flower on you." He pinched her eyelid, plucked the blossom free, and tossed it to the roadside. "It's void now."

"…."