Chapter 11: Memories of Youth
The Yuehua Palace stood quietly amidst its faded gardens, once vibrant with spring blossoms but now desolate and lifeless. Time had drained the colors from its once-flourishing courtyard.
Qi Dongyang—known also as Li Feitian—stood alone in the center of the courtyard, his gaze sweeping slowly across the familiar scene, as if seeing ghosts of the past.
Once, this place had been filled with laughter—his mother, Chen Xingyan, the consort whose beauty was as radiant as a budding flower, would cradle him beneath the pavilion, combing his hair with gentle hands and telling him stories before bed.
But those tender days had faded into distant memory. His mother was gone, never to return, and he himself had been exiled to Jiaodong, a cold and remote border town.
"The palace remains, but the people are gone,"
Qi Dongyang murmured to himself, voice low and filled with quiet sorrow.
As he stood lost in thought, the sound of steady footsteps approached from behind. Turning, he saw the towering figure of the Emperor, accompanied by the chief eunuch, Li Gonggong.
"After all these years, you still remember this place, do you not?"
The Emperor's voice was calm, yet beneath the surface lay something complex and difficult to fathom.
Qi Dongyang immediately bowed deeply.
"Greetings, Father."
The Emperor regarded his ninth son in silence for a moment, then stepped forward to stand beside him, gazing thoughtfully around Yuehua Palace.
"Do you resent me for sending you to Jiaodong?"
He asked, voice steady.
Qi Dongyang was silent for a moment before replying with a neutral tone.
"I have never resented Your Majesty."
"Truly...?"
The Emperor glanced sideways at him.
"Perhaps you did not understand then, but know this: I did not send you away out of disdain."
Qi Dongyang lifted his head and met his father's gaze. In those eyes, he did not see only the coldness he once imagined—but something deeper, something hidden.
"You are the son of Chen Xingyan,"
the Emperor said quietly.
"She was beautiful and kind, but the harem is treacherous. Before long, there were those who sought her life—and yours. You yourself were attacked more than once."
The Emperor exhaled a long, weary sigh.
"Sending you to Jiaodong was the only way I could protect you."
Qi Dongyang remained silent.
He was no longer a naïve boy; he understood now.
In the poisonous atmosphere of the palace, had he remained, he might never have survived to see adulthood.
And yet, a bitterness still lingered in his heart.
"I understand now, Father,"
he answered quietly.
The Emperor gazed at his grown son and spoke with rare softness.
"You have grown. You are no longer the boy who clung to his mother's side."
Qi Dongyang simply bowed again, saying nothing.
The Emperor nodded slowly.
"Rest well. Tomorrow, you must be ready for the battle ahead."
With that, the Emperor turned and left, the eunuch trailing silently behind.
Qi Dongyang stood still, watching his father's shadow retreat down the corridor. He murmured softly:
"I do not resent... but neither can I forget."
Just as silence settled once more over the courtyard—
"Hmph. Qi Dongyang... do you truly think you can become a hero and restore the honor of Qi?"
A mocking voice broke the peace.
From the shadows emerged Second Prince Qi Feizhen, accompanied by his loyal attendants. His eyes gleamed with disdain, and a contemptuous smile curled his lips.
Qi Dongyang turned slowly, his gaze serene, though deep within, a hidden flame smoldered.
"What business brings you to my palace, Brother?"
He asked calmly.
"Business?"
Qi Feizhen scoffed.
"Simply to remind you of your place. You have no hope of victory in this so-called duel. You are nothing but a stray dog, exiled to Jiaodong, wasting your life in debauchery. Even I, with my years of training, could not defeat Chu's general—do you think a street brawler like you stands a chance?"
Laughter erupted from his attendants, sycophantic and cruel.
But Qi Dongyang remained unmoved, stepping forward with a faint, chilling smile.
"And why should Qi Kingdom suffer defeat?"
The laughter stopped abruptly.
"Because those who fought before me fought poorly. They lost not for lack of skill—but for lack of courage. They feared for their own prestige more than they feared for the people they were meant to protect."
Qi Feizhen's face darkened with rage.
"You—!"
"I speak only the truth,"
Qi Dongyang continued, voice calm as still water.
"Qi has no shortage of capable men—but many are cowards, more willing to yield our land and pride out of fear. Perhaps, Brother, it is not I who should feel shame."
Qi Feizhen's hands trembled with fury.
"Do not think that Father's favor means you can do as you please!"
He snarled.
"I will watch you fall! I will laugh when Chu crushes you into the dirt!"
Qi Dongyang chuckled softly.
"Then watch closely, Brother. Watch well."
Qi Feizhen's face twisted with hate. He turned sharply, his sleeves billowing behind him, and stormed away, his heart burning with resentment.
At the bronze mirror in his own palace, Qi Feizhen stood alone.
His fingers brushed lightly over the faint scar on his forehead, and bitter memories flooded back—
Long ago, when they were but children training in the palace grounds...
The young princes had laughed and played in the fields, chasing each other with carefree abandon. Qi Feizhen, as a boy, had cornered a young girl—Zhou Yanfang, the emperor's niece.
"Got you!"
he cried gleefully, reaching for her as she tried to escape.
The other young princes helped block her path, laughing cruelly.
"Come play with us, Princess Yanfang,"
Qi Feizhen taunted.
"See? No one will protect you now."
The little girl trembled, biting her lip to hold back tears.
Just then, a thin, serious-faced boy stepped forward from the crowd—Qi Dongyang.
"Why do you torment her when she clearly wants no part of your games?"
Qi Feizhen narrowed his eyes in irritation.
"Stay out of this if you know what's good for you. Or do you want to fight me?"
Qi Dongyang smirked.
"You have so many on your side. I am but one. If you still fear, I have nothing more to say."
Infuriated, Qi Feizhen lunged at him.
Though Qi Feizhen had trained in martial arts since childhood and was stronger, Qi Dongyang fought without fear.
Thud!
A punch to the stomach made Qi Feizhen stumble back. He charged again—only for Qi Dongyang to sidestep swiftly.
Qi Feizhen slipped and fell, his forehead slamming against a stone.
Blood poured from the wound, searing pain blinding him.
As he lay on the ground, Qi Dongyang's cold voice cut through the air.
"Those who mock others must at least be strong enough to stand on their own."
With that, the boy took Princess Yanfang's hand and led her away, leaving Qi Feizhen humiliated and broken.
The scar on Qi Feizhen's forehead… it was born that day.
Not just a scar of flesh—but a scar of the heart.
From that moment on, Qi Feizhen harbored a burning hatred for Qi Dongyang.
And even now, after so many years, he still plotted for the day he would exact his revenge.