Chapter 2 - Crown Prince Shang Wuxin
Within the dim, chaotic depths of a cave lay a boy, seemingly no older than ten or twelve. His once-bright yellow silk robes were now soiled and tattered, clinging to his small frame as he lay upon the cold, hard ground.
The fine garments, now crumpled and torn, spoke of a higher station, yet the boy himself was still, his body rigid, devoid of breath.
Time crept by. As darkness descended, a subtle tremor stirred the boy's finger, fleeting as an illusion. Soon, his entire hand trembled, followed by a delicate furrow of his fine brows.
Then, his eyes snapped open, revealing orbs like polished obsidian, like the river at night reflecting the fleeting shadows of a thousand lifetimes, the bustling vibrancy of the world, the quiet despair of its people, all captured within their depths.
Shang Wuxin stared at the mottled cave ceiling above. After a long while, feeling a gradual return of warmth to her limbs, she sat up with some effort and surveyed her surroundings, an air of casual indifference clinging to her.
She extended a hand, studying its small, delicate form. It was the hand of a pampered young nobleman, untouched by hardship.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips, escalating into uncontrollable, almost hysterical laughter.
“Ha…hahahaha…”
The sound, laced with an inexplicable blend of sorrow and defiance, echoed eerily through the darkness of the cave.
The laughter eventually subsided, replaced by a self-deprecating gaze into the void. She hadn't died. Even hell, it seemed, wouldn't have her. Was it the multitude of lives she'd taken?
The sheer volume of sins she'd committed? It didn't matter. She was alive, and that was enough. This time, she would live as she pleased.
Shang Wuxin examined her new body. Though she hadn't seen her face, the frame was thin and frail. Fifteen years of age, yet she looked no older than eleven or twelve. She knew this body belonged to the Crown Prince of Shang, a position of considerable power.
Yet, this Shang Wuxin had been plagued by illness since birth, his body weak, his spirit timid. He was a constant target of ridicule by the other princes, retreating to weep in solitude after each encounter.
Suddenly, Shang Wuxin's hand went to her chest, noting its flatness with a flicker of surprise. Had she truly become a man? Her hand moved lower, finding nothing. The Crown Prince, it seemed, was a girl.
A girl disguised as a boy, occupying the position of Crown Prince. There were secrets here, layers upon layers that the original Shang Wuxin had never known.
Sorting through the fragmented memories, Shang Wuxin pieced together the events that led to the boy's death.