mesbooks Chapter 389 His Highness the Crown Prince is Outstandingly Talented (27)
Chapter 389 His Highness the Crown Prince is Outstandingly Talented (27)
"Father."
The boy's soft call, tinged with confusion and unease, finally pulled Emperor Qi back from the intense emotions that were about to engulf him.
Emperor Qi suddenly awoke, realizing his lapse in composure. He slowly loosened his grip on Lin Shen's back, but one hand remained lingering there with an almost imperceptible tenderness.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the turmoil surging in his eyes. When he looked up again, his face had returned to its usual gentleness, but beneath that gentleness, there seemed to be a trace of lingering unease.
"What's wrong, Abao?" His voice was still a little hoarse, but he tried his best to keep it steady.
Lin Shen blinked, pointed to his red robes, and directly asked the question that had been bothering him: "Father, what happened to you just now? This robe, and that painting... I have a feeling that you are looking at someone else through me?"
Emperor Qi felt as if he had been pricked by a needle, a subtle sting spreading through his heart.
He raised his hand and gently straightened Lin Shen's collar, which was not crooked. His movements were meticulous and gentle, avoiding Lin Shen's probing gaze.
"Silly child, what are you thinking?"
His tone was filled with helpless affection, as if he were comforting a sulking child, "Father just thought you looked really good in this red, and was so engrossed in looking at it for a moment. This painting... is naturally of you, my Abao. From childhood to adulthood, which moment do I not remember? It's just based on my memory, imagining what you would look like a few years younger in red."
This explanation sounded reasonable, and under normal circumstances, Lin Shen might have believed it.
But the strength of that hug, and the fleeting look of pain in his father's eyes, still haunted him.
But looking at Emperor Qi's calm and composed face, he knew that he wouldn't get any more information by asking any further questions.
He could only suppress the strange feeling in his heart and force a smile, following the Emperor's words: "So that's how it is. Then I'll wear more red for Father Emperor to see in the future?"
"it is good."
……
Emperor Qi sat alone in his study, the doors tightly shut, cutting off all the noise and light from the outside.
The candlelight flickered, casting interplay of light and shadow in his deep eyes.
On the emperor's desk, all other memorials and official documents had been temporarily set aside, and only the painting of the red-clad boy that had just caused a stir was laid out neatly before him.
The boy in the painting, with his black hair, red ribbon, and fiery red clothes, stands amidst the shadows of plum blossoms under the moon, possessing unparalleled beauty and captivating charm.
Emperor Qi's gaze was like the softest feather, meticulously tracing every detail of the painting over and over again—the soaring eyebrows, the affectionate corners of the eyes, the slightly pursed lips with a hint of arrogance.
His fingertips slowly rose, trembling with an almost reverent air, and gently touched the cheek of the person in the painting.
His fingertips touched the cool, smooth paper, but the sensation from his fingertips felt as if he were touching the warm, smooth skin from his memories.
He moved with extreme care, afraid that if he used even a little more force, he would disturb the spirit in the painting and shatter the moon in the mirror.
What welled up in his eyes was an intense, unyielding longing, a heavy sorrow and remembrance that had transcended the long river of time.
“It’s so similar…it’s really too similar…” he sighed softly, his voice hoarse as if it had been ground by sand, sounding empty and lonely in the silent space.
It wasn't just his appearance; the vibrant spirit and the unconscious elegance that Lin Shen exuded when he put on the red clothes just now almost perfectly overlapped with the figure deep in my memory.
This filled him with ecstasy, but also filled him with terror.
After a long while, he withdrew his hand, but the cool touch of the painting still lingered on his fingertips.
He slowly rose, his bright yellow dragon robe gleaming majestically in the candlelight, but this majesty could not conceal the loneliness that permeated his entire being.
He walked to the display shelf, where a seemingly ordinary celadon porcelain vase was placed. He pressed his fingers precisely on a barely noticeable protrusion on the vase, applying slight pressure.
A very faint, almost inaudible mechanical whirring sound arose.
Behind the imperial desk, the wall that was originally perfectly sealed and painted with landscapes had silently slid open inward, revealing a deep passageway entrance that could only accommodate one person at a time.
The passage was pitch black, as if it led to another unknown world.
Without the slightest hesitation, Emperor Qi stepped inside.
The moment his figure disappeared into the darkness, the wall silently closed again, returning to its original state, as if nothing had ever happened.
The passage was initially very narrow, but after walking more than ten steps, it suddenly opened up.
Emperor Qi skillfully used a tinderbox to light the candle in the wall lamp at the entrance.
A dim, yellowish light appeared, and then, as if triggering a chain reaction, dozens of lamps embedded in the walls of the secret chamber lit up one after another. The soft and steady light instantly dispelled the darkness and illuminated the entire secret chamber as bright as day.
If there were outsiders here at this moment, they would surely be speechless with shock at the sight before them.
The room was spacious and windowless, yet it did not feel oppressive.
Because all the walls were densely covered with paintings.
All the paintings depict the same person—the boy with black hair and red clothes.
Some stand, some sit, some laugh, some grumble; some dance with swords in the plum grove, some drink alone under the moon, some look back in the snow, some hold a scroll under the lamp... Different clothes, different situations, different angles, but the only constant is that stunning face and the intense emotions that the painter poured into it, so intense that they almost burst off the paper.
It is the place where he poured out all his longing, all his love, all his regret and madness.
The air was filled with a faint scent of ink and the smell of old paper, as well as a subtle fragrance of cold plum blossoms that seemed to have traveled through time.
Emperor Qi walked to the center of the secret chamber, looked up and surveyed the walls covered with images of "himself," and finally his gaze fell on the new painting that had just been brought in.
He found an empty spot, carefully hung the scroll, and let it blend in with the surrounding "himself".
The boy in red in the painting seems even more vivid under the gaze of everyone in the room who is "himself".
Emperor Qi took two steps back, gazing quietly at the newly added painting, a faint yet infinitely complex smile slowly curving his lips.
He raised his hand, his fingertips pointing vaguely at the person in the painting, or as if through the painting, pointing to Lin Shen, who had just been standing vividly in front of him, wearing that red dress.
A deep, affectionate voice gently echoed in the silent chamber, carrying an undeniable certainty and a hint of a murmur seeking validation.
"Father, did you see that?"
"Is he... your reincarnation?"
After he finished speaking, the secret room fell silent again.
Only the walls covered with young people, with their unchanging postures, silently watched this emperor trapped in the cage of love and memories.
The candlelight illuminated his tall yet lonely figure, casting a long and heavy shadow on his magnificent dragon robe.