Chapter Text
Once, during a particularly cold night, his mom had told him that when she first held him in her arms he had kicked and bawled with such strength that he was worried she accidentally hurt him in some way.
“You had strong lungs, Ran-er.” His mother said, kissing his hair. “No matter how much I hugged and rocked you, you wouldn’t stop. But once the first scare passed, I realized that such energy meant my little boy would someday grow into a strong and brave young man.”
But the little girl in his arms made no sound.
The delivery room had gone quiet. Both the midwives and Liu-gong had retreated into a corner, trembling and crying silently. No one, not even the loyal old Liu, dared to utter a single word.
Mo Ran was glad Chu Wanning laid unconscious in the ample bed, its bedsheets still dyed red after such a difficult birth. The head midwife told Mo Ran his concubine would live, which was a miracle itself after how much time and exertion it took Chu Wanning to bring the little princess into this world.
When he first learned that his Shizun was with child, the Emperor was exhilarated. After five years of trying in vain, he suspected the problem was not Chu Wanning, but himself. His rotten toes weren’t the only consequence of the constant use over the Forbidden Techniques. Taxian-jun suffered from poor eye sight, difficulty digesting lots of types of meals, and insomnia, among others. He was sure that sterility was just another one of those side effects.
That, paired with Chu Wanning’s frail and worn out body, convinced him that a child born from the union of both of them was unattainable.
However, eight months ago, Liu-gong came to his side to inform about Chu Wanning suffering from strange cravings and morning sickness. Once the royal physician confirmed that the Consort was expecting a little highness, Taxian-jun wasted no time on congratulating Chu Wanning, telling him it was about time for his useless and weak excuse of a concubine to birth an heir into the realm.
The pregnancy taking such a big tool on Chu Wanning should have served Mo Ran as a bad omen for what was about to occur.
During the months the baby grew in his belly, Chu Wanning’s health deteriorated even more. He ate everything Mo Ran cooked for him for the sake of the child, but half the time he was unable to keep the food down, which made him lose weight at an alarming rate. Each time Mo Ran was even minimally rough with him in bed, he developed a fever and, paired with how many colds he caught during that winter, most of them leaving him beddriven, caused his body to deteriorate and become a sack of bones by the time he went into labor.
Luckily, Mo Ran was visiting him in Red Lotus Pavilion when his water broke, so the Emperor was quick in summoning the team of midwives he hired to tend to his consort.
Chu Wanning’s labor lasted for almost two days, falling unconscious as soon as the baby exited his body. If Mo Ran didn’t know Chu Wanning was heartless and cruel, he would believe the stubborn Yuheng Elder held until their daughter was safe to finally faint.
Now, he finally cradled their much awaited infant in his arms. As soon as he saw her, when the midwife did, with tears in her eyes and trembling hands, put the baby in Taxian-jun’s arms, he knew it was his fault.
Half of her body was decrepit and blackened. The texture of her skin resembled too much the way his mother’s corpse had looked the first days when she started to rot. The same kind of putrefaction Mo Ran’s own necrotic toes acquired before he chopped them off himself with a dagger. Part of her finger bones were visible on her tiny hands, and even the more normal part of her body had a sickly yellowish color, her hair falling off her skull as soon as Mo Ran caressed her little head. The skull was visible where the missing eye should have rested.
The baby grabbed at his finger with her bony hand. She barely had any strength, as if holding onto her dad was the only thing she desired to do before the little time the cruel heavens had granted this innocent and beautiful cursed creature ran out.
Mo Ran caressed the tiny dimple in the non rotted cheek, and thought she was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. He wondered if his mother had looked at him with the same fervent adoration and love when he first crawled out of her womb.
He considered killing the midwives. That way there won’t be anyone in this world who ever thought this little infant, rotten and eaten away by the corruption of forbidden magic, was anything but precious.
They already called him dirty and ugly when he was a child, a starved shack of bones with tangled hair full of lice. He wouldn’t allow anyone, not even himself, to even fathom the egregious thought that his little baby girl was the same as his dad was when he was a child.
For years, his heart harbored nothing but hatred.
Hatred for the man that abandoned his mother.
Hatred for that scumbag that framed him and his bitch of a mother, who sold his Xun-jiejie to that animal like a mere piece of meat.
Hatred for his uncle and auntie, who upon discovering his lie called him a beast and worse than a demon.
Hatred for his cousin, who always looked down on him and stood in his way when Mo Ran seeked his so rightfully deserved retribution against the cruel world that again and again reminded him that he was nothing but an filthy, dumb mutt.
Hatred even for his Shizun, who stood impassive as his beloved Shixiong bleeded out and died in front of his eyes.
Now, for the first time in years, while looking at this beautiful and fragile little goddess that lay quietly in his arms, Mo Ran felt a warmth in his hate-filled heart that he thought could be called love. It had been such a long time since anyone evoqued that unfamiliar feeling on him, that at first he didn’t recognize it but, once he did, he smiled and rocked the little one back and forth, euphoric about the prospect of being able to be called a dad.
But similar to everything Mo Ran had cherished during the scarce happy moments of his life, that love was destined to scatter like the dried golden leaves of autumn carried away by the upcoming winter winds.
“You are the most beautiful thing this Venerable One has ever laid eyes upon, you know that?” A first wet droop fell atop the blackened skin of the infant. “The realm won’t ever see someone as pretty as you. You are my precious princess. The best heir a king could hope for.”
Mo Ran counted the breaths. Seven heavy puffs of irregular exhalations since he held her before her little chest went still forever. It was clear that breathing itself was painful for her. She wheezed like a dying animal, this cruel world taking from this little one even the air that should keep her alive, until her chest stopped moving.
“Your Majesty…” Liu-gong was finally brave enough to take a step forward and reach a wrinkled hand toward Mo Ran, but the youth ignored him and walked towards the door, his little blessing still in his arms, cold and unmoving. He didn’t miss how the old servant’s face streamed with tears.
He once told Mo Ran he did lose a son in the war. He probably understood more than anyone present what it felt like.
Before leaving, Mo Ran directed a look towards Chu Wanning. Some of the midwives were attending him, cleaning and tidying the mess around his unconscious form. For a moment, Taxian-Jun pondered if he should wait for his concubine to wake up, to allow the man he so much hated to take one first and final look at the child they created and doomed together.
He stood facing the pond of the Red Lotus Pavilion. Over the still surface of the water, the first rays of sunrise caressed them both, its warm colors matching those red petals of the flowers that floated in the pond.
Mo Ran carefully unwrapped the blanket his daughter rested in, so even if she no longer was here with them, her soul could know what it was having her thin face warmed by the morning light before leaving her broken vessel forever.
Mo Ran kissed her forehead, tears finally flowing uncontrollably. Under the rising sun, the First Emperor of the Cultivation World hugged the only person he could be sure he loved, despite her stay on earth not having been enough for her to learn how to love him back.
Crying, and feeling like his own broken soul would escape his mortal body to chase after his little one, Mo Ran dragged his feet towards the base of Heaven Piercing Tower. There, he placed the swaddled baby atop a pillow of white flowers. Mo Ran would never be able to place her in the crib he with so much effort had built with his own hands, but at least he could make sure these flowers served as a proper bed for his royal heir.
Slowly, and with his vision blurred by tears, he shoved his hands in the dirt and dug his daughter’s final resting place. Sometimes he looked at her, talking to her about trivial matters, about how they would celebrate her first birthday, about how he thought Chu Wanning would love her despite how much he hated Mo Ran, as if a part of him still expected she would start crying at any moment, that all had been a nightmare and he would be able to carry her back to Chu Wanning’s side, so her mother could hug her for the first time and nurse her and the three of them would form the family Mo Ran so much yearned for.
But the little one remained sleeping, placidly lying there in between flowers while her dad worked. A shy purple butterfly hovered above the baby, as if it too was trying to awaken her with the soft flutter of its wings. It circled the princess for a few seconds before giving up and ascending toward the skies, banishing in the distance.
The Emperor continued working. Suddenly, Mo Ran was a kid again, dirt sticking to his nails while his tiny and scrapped hands tried so desperately to create a final resting place for his mother. Though this time, the hole he was making in the soft earth was much, much smaller. No grave should be this tiny, Mo Ran thought.
Once he deemed the hole proper enough, he scooped his little treasure back in his arms and removed the blanket from her body. Her limbs fell numbly at her sides as Mo Ran hugged her against his chest with one arm while, with the other, he took off his own outer robe. Then, after making sure his little one wouldn’t feel cold ever again wrapped in the safety of his father’s clothes, he prayed to the Heavens he for so much time despised, to please be merciful with her, so she could be born healthy and happy when she entered her next life.
The greed of her current father deprived her of that in the current one. It was only fair the next time she was given a chance to exist carefreely, with parents that loved each other instead of the poor excuse of forced marriage Mo Ran and Chu Wanning shared. That way she could be properly loved as well, free from the curse they have brought upon her.
Mo Ran kissed her head one last time before placing her carefully in her resting place. He took one of the few thin strands of dark hair that had fallen from her head and deposited them in a brocade pouch; then, he secured it inside his robes, in the inner pocket that was closer to his heart.
By the time Mo Ran placed the soil back in place, his throat felt hoarse after so much time screaming at her daughter for forgiveness. Taxian-jun hugged the now empty blanket. A putrid smell remained on the fabric, but Mo Ran felt it as comforting as Chu Wanning’s haitang fragrance.
Later, Mo Ran told Chu Wanning the child was stillborn, that he was so weak and broken and useless he didn’t even manage to bring their daughter alive into this world. He omitted the details about her rotten body, about how she did in fact live a scarce few minutes on this earth. Scarce minutes only Mo Ran had the privilege of witnessing. Confessing that aloud would make him weak in the eyes of this cruel man that was constantly defying him.
He couldn’t allow that.
Before leaving the tomb of his daughter to return to Chu Wanning’s side, he had casted a barrier to prevent his husband from digging the body and finding the truth. Chu Wanning would be allowed to visit her, but never to lay an eye on the deformed child he didn’t know he birthed.
After he was done berating Chu Wanning, who laid in bed still weak from labor, silence filled the room. Chu Wanning didn’t say a single word since Mo Ran broke the news to him, when he woke up after a slumber of two days with no child in his belly nor in the crib his husband poured so much care into building.
The Emperor waited, hoping for any reaction. Screams, insults, anything would do for him. He needed that defiance, that rebellious fire Chu Wanning always showed despite so many years of imprisonment whenever Taxian-jun did anything despicable. However, his consort only stared ahead blankly, holding the haitang pattered blanket their daughter had rested in. He was clutching it with such force his knuckles seemed about to shatter.
Taxian-jun found himself dumfounded when Chu Wannin’s pale and stoic expression flickered and he burrowed his face into the fabric. Then, out of nowhere, horrendous, brutal screams filled the room as Chu Wanning cried his heart out.
Mo Ran’s legs went weak. Chu Wanning’s raw reaction scared him so much that he fell backwards on the floor, covering his ears. This was the first time he saw Chu Wanning show such strong emotions. Not even when Taxian-jun threatened to hunt Xue Meng down and present his head to Chu Wanning as a present did his Shizun react so terribly.
He hated the sound.
“Shut up.” He mumbled. “Wanning, shut up, please!”
But Chu Wanning’s cries only intensified. He curled himself in the bed, hugging his now flattening belly and the blanket at the same time. His eyes were closed as he screamed and soaked the pillows with his tears.
“Please.” Mo Ran begged, crawling towards the bed, his own tears threatening to spill. He punched the floor with such force that the wood cracked, stabbing splinters into his hand. “This Venerable One orders you to shut up! Why are you crying? You never cried like this before! I hate it! Shut the fuck up!”
He arrived at the edge of the bed and reached his bloodied hand towards Chu Wanning. He needed to hurt him, to make him feel pain. That way, the pain would be the reason for his tears, and not the fact that they both did just lose the daughter Mo Ran so fervently fought for putting in his belly.
“But isn't this already your fault?” Mo Ran though as he grabbed Chu Wanning by the arm, with the intention of breaking his bones. “She would be alive if your corruption hadn't infected her. This pain he feels is already your doing.”
Mo Ran loosened the grip on Chu Wanning, grabbing at the sheets instead as he dragged his body up to lay beside his wailing concubine. Or maybe they were his own wails.
“M-Mo Ran…” Chu Wanning managed to utter, before being consumed again by his cries, his graying hair sprawled in an mangled halo over the sheets.
Chu Wanning hugged him, or maybe it was Mo Ran who took the initiative to cradle him in his arms. Without regard to who initiated the contact, they both embraced as they sobbed against the other.
Tomorrow, they both would be back to being enemies, to be nothing more than a tyrant and his prisoner. But right now, they were just a couple that had lost their firstborn.
Years later, when Taxian-jun dug their tombs, he did it next to the little grave of the first and only imperial princess his dynasty had ever known. He knew he had committed too many irremediable crimes for his spirit to be allowed into the wheel of reincarnation, his soul forever doomed to never again reunite nor with his little one nor with the man that carried her in his womb for nine months, but he still hoped the row of three tombs gave a false illusion of an united and loving family.