On the day the new emperor ascended the throne, Prince Regent Xie Wei personally fed him poisoned wine.
“A puppet should know its place.” Xie Wei’s fingertips were icy, his voice steeped in hatred. “Your life belongs to me.”
Everyone at court knew how deeply Xie Wei hated Xiao Che: the family of Xiao Che’s birth mother had once slaughtered the entire Xie clan.
Xiao Che endured and bided his time, honing the blade of revenge beneath his imperial robes. He swore to tear the man who controlled his life and death limb from limb.
Then, during an assassination attempt, blood flew as Xiao Che watched Xie Wei take a fatal blow meant for him.
The man’s bloodied hand brushed his cheek. His gaze was as sinister as ever.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Your life… can only be taken by my own hand.”
Hatred and confusion twisted together. At last, Xiao Che took a desperate gamble and “died” in a blaze that engulfed the palace.
Hidden in the shadows, he heard the man who hated him to the bone clutch his charred “corpse” and let out a despairing, heart-wrenching cry:
“Xiao Che! I protected you for fifteen years… How dare you die before me!”
That bloodcurdling wail shattered everything Xiao Che thought he knew.
He suddenly remembered the painting in Xie Wei’s study, the one he never showed anyone.
The bright-smiling boy in the painting was the half-frozen little beggar Xie Wei had rescued in a ruined temple on a snowy night when he was twelve.
So the poisoned wine had been a chain, and the blade that took the blow for him had been a shield.
Beneath the bone-deep hatred lay a love, born in the abyss and steeped in blood and ashes, so profound it gnawed to the bone.
Not bad! [Bookshelf plus one][Grass has been planted]