004 The Last Supper

Ten years have passed, all alike, without the slightest change. In the blink of an eye, a decade has gone by, and I am still standing beneath the cherry blossom tree. Compared to ten years ago, the tree is now much sturdier, its branches more numerous. Petals blanket the ground, and the stone beneath the tree seems smaller than I remember; I no longer need to stand on tiptoe to sit upon it.

I closed the book in my hands, "True Union," and quietly made my way back to my palace. I have long since forgotten whom I am waiting for in this place each day… It has simply become a habit, unbroken in ten years.

Leaving the secret passage, I stepped into my bedchamber, only to be met by a piercing gaze.

"Where have you been again?" My younger brother's youthful face wore a serious expression. He lounged by my desk, legs crossed, popping peanuts into his mouth one by one.

I said nothing, but sat by his side and joined him, taking a handful of peanuts to chew.

"One jar," I said, holding up a single finger before his eyes.

His eyes lit up immediately. "Three jars…" he bargained, raising three fingers.

"Two jars, and that's the most you'll get."

"Deal."

Two jars of my prized wine—my heart ached a little, but since it was for my dear little brother, I gritted my teeth and let it go. Ever since I let him have a cup of my homemade wine some days ago, he's been insatiable. We both ended up completely drunk, leaving our mother to care for her two tipsy kittens with a headache, and our father scolded us thoroughly when we sobered up. After that, I dared not let him drink again, but he followed me everywhere, pestering me for more. When sweet words failed, he resorted to catching my mistakes to bargain with me.

With an arm around my shoulder, he cheerfully dragged me along to Mother’s palace. Along the way, he tried to find out where I had buried my wine, threatening to dig up more.

He would never guess that not only had I hidden some in the palace, but had also buried two jars beneath the cherry blossom tree.

Mother had suffered a shock when I was born, and her health was further weakened giving birth to my brother. When my brother turned five, he was named crown prince. Our father gradually had children with other consorts, yet he still insisted on dining with us in Mother's palace each evening.

"Greetings to Mother," my brother and I bowed in unison.

At our arrival, Mother brightened with joy. "Come, both of you, come," she said, embracing us both, glancing at me, then at my brother. Mother had always said she loved both her son and daughter equally.

Night had fallen and the dinner hour long passed, yet we gathered around the table, not touching our chopsticks. The dishes were sent away and reheated time and again.

Father did not come.

Mother had no choice but to send her attendants to inquire.

Half an hour later, the attendant returned—not with our father, but with news: he had already retired for the night in Consort Lan’s palace.

Consort Lan was the sister of General Murong, Murong Lan. She entered the palace five years ago and bore our father a son, Huangfu Xin. Alluring in appearance, adept at every art, gentle and graceful, she left no fault for others to find. Her presence once threatened Mother's position in the palace. Fortunately, Father and Mother were united by a marriage of true affection and treated each other with respect.

For a fleeting moment, emptiness passed through Mother’s eyes. I nudged my brother, and he understood at once, hurrying to Mother’s side to make her laugh. I too nestled up to her. In cheerful warmth, we finished the fatherless dinner.

After bidding farewell to Mother and my brother, I returned to my own chambers and lay down to sleep.

Little did I know that was to be the last dinner I would share with Mother, nor did I imagine the torment Father was enduring.

In the depths of night, I was roused by the anguished cries of the palace attendants. That night would become an eternal nightmare in my life…