Zhen Xue’s room was dark as he returned later that night. His eyelids were heavy, body sagging towards his bed with each step he took. Something within him didn’t feel right. He always figured it was a side effect of harboring a new body, but so much time had passed since then. He couldn’t be too sure. It didn’t take him long to pass out over his sheets, unable to even crawl underneath the covers for warmth. The palace was still cold at night, with the weather system left unfixed.

Colors shifted before his wandering mind, pulling him along into a memory from his early childhood. He didn’t enjoy thinking about that time, but he was helpless to changing the whims of his dreams.

“If you want to be loved, you must be perfect,” his nanny would whisper. Ah, his nanny... He still recalled how she taught him how to write in cursive, something that he had patiently sat through and pretended to learn from scratch. 

Several months after her arrival, his father executed her for treason. Zhen Xue didn’t understand his complicated emotions when she was no longer around, nor how he would miss her head pats and earnest smile that didn’t match her strict words.

The day she died was a pivotal point for Zhen Xue, since that’s when his stepmother would take more interest in toying with him. 

He recalled after watching her death how he sat alone on the floor near her room, crying for a reason he wasn’t entirely sure about. The way the rope went taunt, her eyes wide never to move again, struck frozen, unlike when they’d always proudly turn to watch him practice his studies. “Stupid nanny...” he had wiped his tears with his sleeve, his emotions in turmoil with feelings he didn’t understand.

The scene shifted again. He found himself knelt on the floor, his step-mother towering over him with a menacing glare. “Where are you staring so intensely?” she demanded. “Did you finally lose your mind?!”

Her domineering presence made him feel even smaller than possible. His small hands clenched in his lap, tired of feeling helpless around her, but he buried those emotions and did nothing because that’s what he always did. All the lashings he faced taught him to endure. 

Even if he acted now, it wouldn’t matter when this moment had already happened long ago. Xu Yang would appear any moment and take a beating for him, which was why Zhen Xue felt like his soul left his body when that didn’t happen. 

Instead, Xu Yang burst forward out of nowhere, snatching his hand. “Get up,” Xu Yang breathed, holding his gaze. “Get up, Zhen Xue.” 

Before he could respond, Xu Yang yanked him onto his feet, pulling him into a run down the corridor. 

A mechanical laughter from that woman soon followed behind them. 

His heart raced even more at the thought of being caught. He continued moving his feet, practically throwing himself forward. When he struggled to keep up with Xu Yang, his brother yanked him into a separate hallway. 

The two of them went still, trying to catch their breath.

“I’m doing this for you, brat,” his stepmother said with a chuckle, speaking about Xu Yang, her own child. Her unhurried footsteps were audibly closer, causing Zhen Xue to press his back harder against the wall to calm himself. “Everything I do is for you and this is how you repay me?! If only you killed him when I told you... What a useless child you’ve been.”

Zhen Xue’s eyes widened at her words. What was happening right now?! This wasn’t how the memory unfolded before. He recalled vividly how his hands twitched at his sides, yearning to reach for Xu Yang getting slapped, but too small and powerless to actually help. But no... This was new. This made him excited. It was like he’d been asleep until now. He realized how badly he wanted to protect those he cared about... And how much he wanted to live.

Xu Yang kept watch with unflinching focus, his resolve unwavering even in the face of danger. How could he be so unyielding when they were in the same situation, the same height, weight, and everything? He stared down Xu Yang, captivated by his ability to inspire others. Being an Alistair may not mean much to him, but blood related or not, Xu Yang really was his hero.

“I’ll hold her off until she calms down,” Xu Yang said, preparing to head out as her footsteps were nearly upon them. 

Zhen Xue’s heart skipped a beat, horror breaking his restraint at the realization of what Xu Yang was suggesting to face alone. He lunged forward, grabbing his shoulder in haste, but Xu Yang pushed him away with a hard stare. 

Xu Yang gritted out, “She will kill you, Zhen Xue. She’ll do it without hesitation. That might mean nothing to you, but millions of lives depend on your survival. You’re the only thing standing between them and an egotistical queen who will sabotage them.”

“I know,” Zhen Xue replied in a pained voice. “But I can’t give them what they need...” Time and time again, his self-doubt proved accurate. He was powerless to save others. While he didn’t know the future of his character, he knew for certain his role in the grand scheme of things would always remain minor. With a trembling hand, Zhen Xue reached out to grab Xu Yang’s shoulder. “Listen, don’t be such a self sacrificing idiot. We can both survive and...” Before he could finish his sentence, blood spilled across the ground from some unseen force, turning Xu Yang into a bloody pulp. 

Jolting awake in bed, Zhen Xue gasped for air. A wave of nausea overwhelmed his senses, his body still vibrating with adrenaline from what he encountered. 

Sweat trickled down his clammy skin, soaking the sheets. Ming Yi was at his side in an instant, crawling up beside him with concern. A hand went to his face, gripping his chin, but he was too much of a trembling mess to notice.

Xu Yang died. He died right in front of him! 

He couldn’t do anything, always a second too late. Gods... Why did this keep happening to him?

In his mind, Zhen Xue was suddenly drowning alive. His fears shoved him below the waves, trying to push him deep enough into oblivion to disappear for good. 

He found at the bottom, the darkness laughed at him: “Why can’t you do anything right?”

“Dianxia!” Ming Yi’s green eyes bore down at him from the darkness, grounding him back to the present. “Dianxia... You’re safe. Look at me!”

Wind gently blew through the moonlit curtains, sweeping between the two of them as Zhen Xue gradually calms. Only when he really looked up at Ming Yi did he realize how his hair was loose and around his shoulders, no longer drawn back like his usual self. 

“I couldn’t do anything...” Zhen Xue choked out. “Why…? Why aren’t I enough…?”

Ming Yi’s gaze softened, brushing his thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tears that accumulated under his eyes unbeknownst to him. He did this repeatedly, as though to ensure Zhen Xue was real. The patient look in his eyes game him a chance to explain what happened, but Zhen Xue was too tired to respond. 

Ming Yi picked up on his exhausted state, shifting his body to lie beside him. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, moving closer to nuzzle his forehead. “Nothing will happen to you while I’m around. I’ll protect you forever, Dianxia.”

Zhen Xue’s shoulders relaxed as Ming Yi’s hands fumble in his hair, retying his ribbon with a gentleness that calmed him. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“My mother taught me.” Ming Yi’s green eyes glimmered faintly with sadness as he removed his hands, observing his work. Whatever Ming Yi saw made a smile grow on his face that met his eyes. “I didn’t know her for very long. A fire claimed my village, but she taught me many things. I wish you got to know her. She would’ve loved you like her own.”

Zhen Xue couldn’t help but stare at him, swallowing hard. He tried to find a response, but found nothing appropriate to say to something so honest. Instead, he looked back at the ceiling, wondering how Ming Yi’s life would have been if he had written it differently, if Zhen Xue had written a less tragic fate for someone so dear to him. 

Ming Yi nuzzled against his shoulder, dispersing his thoughts into a warm feeling he could no longer deny.

And maybe because Zhen Xue already felt broken, he allowed Ming Yi to stay closer than usual.

“Just wait a little longer,” Ming Yi said moments later. “When I make enough money for the both of us, I’ll buy you beautiful clothes. We can leave this place and travel the world together. Won’t that be nice?”

Zhen Xue’s heart faltered with unease. Was that really what Ming Yi wanted? He huffed, finally speaking up with a tired voice, “You don’t have to do that. I’d rather see you chasing after your dreams instead of wasting time on such nonsense.”

The silence made Zhen Xue turn to him, finding Ming Yi’s look of sadness mixed with complete adoration, like Zhen Xue was his dream. 

Zhen Xue stopped breathing at the sight. He turned away, unable to look any longer in fear his heart would burst.

Sometimes Ming Yi’s subtle gestures of affection were the only reason he could keep smiling when his home life seemed lost. Ming Yi seldom realized how he held Zhen Xue’s only reassurance that his life in the palace wouldn’t completely crumble apart. Or maybe he knew, Zhen Xue thought to himself as Ming Yi breathed into his neck again. 

Many words often remained unspoken between them, but right now, they wouldn’t forget this shared vulnerability.