Chapter 12: United in Life and Death

Inside the Palace of Longevity, the imperial physicians knelt in unison, heads bowed low as they trembled uncontrollably.

“Your Majesty, Prince Jin, the Retired Emperor—”

“Has passed away.”

“We are incompetent!”

On the bed, the Retired Emperor’s hand slowly fell lifelessly to his side.

Shen Xiangjun also collapsed to her knees, too afraid to raise her head. In that moment, she suddenly felt regret—regret for coming forward at such a time.

Who could have foreseen that the Retired Emperor would pass away now? She had thought he could at least hold on a little longer!

The Empress Dowager burst into tears.

Would she now be able to call herself “I” in sorrow?

The Emperor tightly closed his eyes, a single tear slipping from the corner.

“I... have no father anymore.”

He lifted his robe and knelt down.

The sound of weeping echoed through the palace; everyone in the Palace of Longevity knelt and wept.

Prince Jin stared at the Retired Emperor’s lifeless form on the bed, feeling a sharp pain shooting through his knees, his bones numb and aching.

At this moment, he could not stand.

“Father...” Prince Jin’s voice was barely audible.

The Retired Emperor had passed away.

The entire Forbidden City was soon draped in white banners and lanterns.

By imperial decree, all music and marriage ceremonies in the Great Zhou Dynasty were suspended for three months.

Qing Feng entered the Palace of Longevity; in mere moments, the palace was shrouded in white, saturated with an aura of mourning.

The Empress Dowager fainted from grief and was carried away by the Emperor’s attendants.

Only the Emperor and Prince Jin remained in the bedchamber.

The Emperor had risen and patted Prince Jin’s shoulder, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“A Yue, from now on, the two of us brothers must support each other...”

“Pfft!”

Prince Jin spat out a mouthful of blood.

The blood splattered onto the floor in a crimson blossom.

“A Yue!” The Emperor cried out in shock, nearly frightened out of his wits.

He had not struck him hard—only a gentle pat—how could Prince Jin suddenly be coughing up blood?

“Imperial physicians!”

He shouted for the doctors, but Prince Jin grabbed him with one hand, suppressing the bloody taste in his throat.

“Brother, I’m fine. It’s just that the journey back to the capital was too rushed; I’m exhausted.”

“R-really okay?”

The Emperor’s face went pale.

If the Retired Emperor had just passed away, and Prince Jin collapsed immediately after, others would surely suspect foul play—accusing him of hastening the harm to Prince Jin.

His reputation could not be tarnished!

“I’m fine. The blood I’m coughing up was from old bruises; getting it out actually feels better.”

The Emperor looked at his face; it did seem slightly better than before, and he finally relaxed a little.

“A Yue, you must be overwhelmed by this blow. Don’t be afraid. You still have me.”

“Brother, you should attend to your duties. I will stay here and keep company with Father a while longer,” Prince Jin said.

With the Retired Emperor gone, the matters behind the scenes were complicated indeed, and the Emperor truly had to get busy.

“Then I will handle Father’s funeral arrangements. You... don’t grieve too deeply. Father loved you most.”

The Emperor wiped his tears and left the Palace of Longevity.

Prince Jin dismissed all the palace attendants.

He clutched his chest and coughed up another mouthful of blood, raising his head to reveal eyes bloodshot with red veins—his gaze resembling crimson orbs.

If anyone saw him now, they would be terrified.

His chest felt as if a serpent writhed violently beneath the skin, twisting and clawing; the pain made cold sweat soak through his clothes instantly.

“Ugh—”

Prince Jin supported himself with one hand on the floor, the other pressed to his chest, staring at the Retired Emperor on the bed.

Years ago, his father had invited a high monk to the ancestral temple to pray, using secret arts to transfer ten years of life to him. This had been kept from Prince Jin, but his youthful cleverness sensed something amiss.

He had swapped the wish scroll used in the ritual, changing the life exchange into a shared fate.

If his strange illness could not be cured, the Retired Emperor would not survive either.

So over the years, he had sought out masters and mystics—not only to save himself, but also to save his father.

But if the Retired Emperor died, he himself would perish as well.

This was something the Retired Emperor never knew.

No one knew.

Now Prince Jin felt his vision darkening, consciousness sinking into blackness.

At this critical moment, he strangely thought of Lu Zhaoling.

Fortunately, no marriage decree had yet been granted.

Otherwise, the young lady would be truly unfortunate—just returning to the capital, only to become a widow.

“You claimed you could save me...” Prince Jin’s body slowly collapsed.

“Your Highness!”

Qing Feng had just arrived at the doorway with Lu Zhaoling when he saw this scene; his face drained of color as he rushed forward.

He thought he was fast enough, but a figure flashed past him like the wind, two steps ahead.

Lu Zhaoling caught Prince Jin’s head with one hand, while her other hand swiftly patted his forehead.

“Xuan Tian Qi Condensation, gather!”

Instantly, the violet energy that had been dissipating throughout the Palace of Longevity suddenly seemed summoned, gathering back inward—as if time were rewinding.

But none of this was visible to Qing Feng or anyone else.

He stood anxiously at the side, too afraid to move.

Prince Jin’s body temperature, which had plummeted, now slowly rose.

Qing Feng could see this clearly.

The prince’s pale, sallow face gradually regained color, even becoming somewhat flushed.

When he first came in, the prince’s breath was nearly imperceptible; now it was steadying.

Though the violet energy was invisible, Qing Feng could tell that at death’s door, Lu Zhaoling had pulled the prince back.

He widened his eyes, staring at Lu Zhaoling.

“Support him.”

Lu Zhaoling instructed.

Qing Feng instinctively obeyed, “Yes!”

He immediately stepped forward to hold Prince Jin.

Then he saw Lu Zhaoling reach out, pinch the prince’s chin, lifting his face.

Qing Feng: ?

That gesture was quite rakish!

But Lu Zhaoling bore no improper intentions; she was merely examining Prince Jin’s face, then bent down to loosen his robe slightly.

Qing Feng: Hiss!

He dared not look down—if the prince found out he was staring at his chest, he’d be skinned alive.

Yet Lu Zhaoling was bold—she not only looked but touched.

Her hand pressed firmly on Prince Jin’s chest.

The dark energy swirling beneath his skin, once raging and crashing like a furious sea storm, was immediately subdued by her palm.

Its violent circling and clashing gradually slowed.

At that moment, Qing Feng sensed the prince’s previously stiff body relax.

Prince Jin slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a face close before him.

His lips moved softly, voice low.

“Why does your face look as pale as a ghost?”

Qing Feng glanced at Lu Zhaoling and saw that indeed, in just a short while, her complexion had drained of all color—her lips even lost their hue, truly ghostly pale.

Such a sight at first glance could frighten one to tears.

“I suddenly feel this partnership might be a bad bargain!”

Lu Zhaoling shot Prince Jin a glare.

She had not realized before that he was bound by a shared-life secret art and nearly died.

“If you had been just a moment later, you would have gone through the gates of the afterlife alongside the Retired Emperor.”