CHAPTER 01

The sky is clear. Some clouds can be seen passing by above. The sun illuminated the mountains and rivers. Its lights penetrated amid the swaying trees in the cold breeze. A blanket of white covers the ground. Plum blossoms start to bloom as winter begins to melt.

Under the hundreds of woody perennial plants, the sound of swords clashing and arrows piercing through the wind echoes. The screams of soldiers rang beyond the vast forest, scaring the resting birds.

Far from the chaos lie two people.

Ink-colored ponytailed hair swings rhythmically along with his midnight robe with an embroidered tiger in golden thread. His bronze eyes shed tears, his thin pinkish lips turned pale and trembling, and his hands were quivering as he held his lover.

Blood covers the other man. His white robe was dyed red. His aqua-blue eyes gradually lose their light, his pallid lips curve into a weak smile, and his cold shivering hand wipes the other's tears.

" Don't be sad, " he said.

The other man holds his lover's bloodless hand tightly as he is holding his life. Painful tears fell continuously on his attractive face like a cascade.

" If there is life after death, then we will meet again. After ten or twenty years, we will be together again. So, don't be sad. Hmm. " He coaxes his lover in a hoarse voice.

" You... " The other man sobs. " You don't need to die for me. You don't need to shield me from the attack. Why? "

Hearing him ask, the lover was surprised for a moment. With a gentle smile, he answers. " Silly. You don't need to ask 'why'. It's because I love you. "

Listening to his lover's response, he broke down. He hugged the man in his arms tightly. The blood stained his robe and his rose-beige skin.

" Don't leave me, please. Don't leave me. " He begged his lover.

" Your Highness, can I see your smile again? " He stares at the other man. " I want to see your smile again. "

Seeing his lover covered in blood, skin as pale as paper, a body as cold as ice, the eyes slowly losing their light, the pain is unbearable. It's like his soul was forced to leave his body while still conscious. It's like his heart was stabbed again and again until it broke into pieces.

Despite the agonizing pain, he forced a smile on his face. It was as gentle as spring, as beautiful as a lotus flower. Similar to that smile when he first met the king, but also different as there is a hint of sadness in between.

The plum blossoms have started to bloom. The winter begins to melt. The sun spreads warmly on the mountains and rivers. Many lives have left the world, and one of them is the King's lover.

Lashes trembling as the young man opened his eyes. His aqua-blue eyes mirror a person's face. Without flittering, his gaze fixed on the portrait.

Canvas, paints, and brushes are scattered around the room. There are some finished artworks of scenes and events and frames of artists hanging on the wall. On the balcony, there is a coffee table, a vase lying atop it, and two barrel chairs on opposite sides.

The sun rose from the east as the moon set from the west. The spring breeze blows, fluttering the parakeet-colored curtain. Cherry blossoms are in full bloom. Its hue tinted the road and plaza. Its flowers reflect on the rivers and lakes like oil paintings.

The young man walks towards the portrait. The rose-beige skin complements the ink-colored hair, his gentle bronze eyes contemplate affection, loneliness, and longing, his high nose bridge echoes his high dignity, and his pinkish thin lips curve in a smile.

The person painted on canvas wore a mianguan and a midnight robe with a tiger emblem embroidered in golden thread. Though only half of his body can be seen, his appearance and aura signify handsomeness and power.

The young man strokes the portrait as if caressing the person on his cheek. He stares at his eyes for a moment before his vision blurs. Unaware, tears fell from his cheeks to his chin.

Like raindrops, it collapses and shatters on the ground. Each broken piece holds a different emotion. Love, pain, happiness, loneliness, longing, fear, and confusion.

He did not know the man in his painting, but why did he feel a lot of emotions looking at it? Why does he feel like he knows this person? As if he exists in this world, as if he saw him standing in front of him a million times, as if he has a deep connection with him.

The young man stretched his hand to wipe his tears. Afterward, he reaches for the nearby cloth to cover the portrait.

With the gray veil in between him and the portrait, the dream he dreamed plays in his eyes like a film. The emotions are so genuine that the arrow that pierced through the chest hurt. He can even envision the blood gushing out from the wound, the trembling hands of the other man, the unbearable pain, and the feeling of slowly dying.

It seems so real.

He could even hear the strong and majestic yet hoarse voice of that person, begging him not to leave him. He can even remember every word of their last conversation like it just happened a minute ago.

The sound of the phone buzzing brought him back to reality. He took a long breath and sighed. He walks toward the nightstand, picks up his phone, and glances at the caller's name before he swipes at the 'answer' button.

It connected.

" Hello. "

" ZhengYu, where are you? " The caller said in haste.

" At my apartment. Why? " He asks whilst picking up the scattered brushes and placing them in a box.

" Still at your apartment!? Have you forgotten we have a lesson at 8:00? If you don't want to clean the entire soccer field, hurry and come here. "

The call ended.

He glanced at the caller's ID before he stared at his digital clock. 7:30 am. Whilst his eyes are fixed on the timepiece, his hand stretches, holding his chin, and tries to recall their class schedule.

After pondering for a while, his eyes opened wide. A certain surname abruptly resurfaces in his head.

Mr. Chen. The strict old professor who fails learners without a second thought. The wrinkles on his face are equal to the students who begged and cried to him. He shows no mercy as he writes red marks on their cards. This lecturer is known as the cold-blooded demon educator.

Upon thinking about the face of that old man, his scalp went numb and goosebumps ran down his stiff body. Without wasting a second, he sprints outside the room, leaving the box full of brushes on the floor.

" Crap. I'll be dead now. "