AN: I forgot the dad’s na so we will go with this one. I hope you guys dont mind.
XiangLin lay on the hard floor, his body weary and bruised, when a voice sliced through the air.
"Stop pretending. I know you are awake."
Xiang Lin’s heart raced. He lifted his gaze, squinting against the shadows, and for a mont, he thought he saw a ghost. There stood Han Jin, the man who once claid to be his best friend.
The mory of that day flashed through his mind like a dark cloud. He thought of how Han Jin had smiled, believing their worlds were sohow intertwined. Xiang Lin had snorted at the thought back then. He a re attendant, yet he dared to befriend a man of power in the Republic.
He had craved what Han Jin possessed, longing for his position and influence since childhood. The obsession had consud him, blinding him to Han Jin’s sincerity. It was that obsession that had led him to pull the trigger. Not Han Jin, but Han Xin stood before him now, the weight of his dead father palpable in the air.
"I wanted to make your trial and execution public," Han Xin said, his voice like ice, "but now there won’t be a trial."
He stood there, arms crossed, as if he were contemplating a particularly vexing puzzle. His eyes bore into Xiang Lin, filled with a cold resolve that sent shivers down the older man’s spine. "Your son won’t marry until I deal with you first."
Xiang Lin’s heart sank. Confusion twisted his features as he raised his head in disbelief. "You are actually going to marry him?" he stamred, a shaky chuckle escaping his lips. The mont quickly turned to a fit of coughing, pain clawing at his throat.
"What’s so funny?" Han Xin’s voice dripped with nace, his presence growing heavier. The space between them crackled with unspoken tension.
Xiang Lin chuckled again, though the humour fizzled quickly. "I wonder how the people of the Republic will feel about you marrying the son of a traitor."
"The son will not pay for the sins of the father," Han Xin retorted. "Besides, how they feel is none of my concern."
A heavy silence fell between them, and Xiang Lin felt the weight of his own failures sag on his shoulders like a rock. He shook his head slowly, a bitter smile creeping across his lips. "I never thought my son was that much of a vixen. If your father were here, he wouldn’t be so benevolent."
Han Xin’s eyes narrowed in rage. How bold. This man had no right to speak of his father or Xiang Yu. In a fluid motion, he unsheathed Bloodreaver.
The blade glead ominously in the dim light, casting flickering shadows that danced unnaturally as if they were alive.
"You have no right to speak on them," Han Xin said, his voice low and controlled, a storm brewing beneath the surface. Xiang Lin’s breath hitched in his throat fear gripping at his soul.
Normally, Han Xin wouldn’t do such dirty things by himself, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
"You are the only one standing in my way," he said, his voice steady yet low, like a storm cloud gathering above. "Once you are dead, Xiang Yu will be mine. He will be my imperial empress."
He didn’t flinch at Han Xin’s words. Instead, a calm acceptance washed over him. The idea of torture, of lingering pain, faded in the face of his longing for release.
"I would have loved to torture you slowly and savour it for decades," Han Xin continued, eyes glinting with dark satisfaction. "But my desire to be with Xiang Yu is greater than that."
Xiang Lin’s heart clenched recalling what Xiang Yu did to him. He had suffered enough under his son’s hands. Death was no longer a fear. It was his only way out. His mind drifted to his long-dead wife, the only love he would ever known. He had preserved her body carefully, unable to let go.
"I will accept my fate calmly," he said finally, lifting his head to et Han Xin’s cold gaze. "But I wish to be buried near my wife."
Han Xin sneered, the sound sharp and mocking. "You think you are in a position to make demands?" He stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"Your ashes will be scattered in the junkyard of the lower city. There will be no grave, no place to commorate you. Do you really want to drag her down with you?"
Xiang Lin’s pupils shrank at the thought, a cold shiver racing down his spine. That was not what he wanted. He had already defiled her mory by refusing to give her the decent burial she deserved. She should be scattered in the sea of stars, not left in a junkyard beside his na.
"She deserves a better send-off," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "What about my daughter?"
Han Xin’s expression twisted, dark with disdain. "She already paid for her cris," he spat. "Xiang Yu tortured her to death."
Shock washed over Xiang Lin’s face, a wave crashing against the shore of his reality. "What?" he gasped, unable to grasp the depth of Han Xin’s words.
Han Xin relished the expression, his own lips curling into a sneer. "What? Did you think he would show rcy after she killed his mother?" His voice dripped with scorn. He recalled the brutal scene of Xiang Yu’s wrath, the way he had torn into Peng Xiu without hesitation.
Xiang Lin’s heart ached, not just for himself, but for a family lost to darkness. "Xiang Yu can’t be that heartless," he whispered, but the words felt hollow against Han Xin’s cruel smile.
For a mont, Han Xin felt sothing dark and familiar stirring within him. Xiang Yu’s ruthless, cold deanour and the way he struck fear into others were intoxicating.
He had found it alluring, sothing magnetic that pulled him in. That day after witnessing Xiang Yu’s cruelty he went to find him and pressed him against the shower wall and fucked him hard.
Just thinking of that version of Xiang Yu made him itch to find him and tear his clothes off again. It was official... he had a weird kink that he couldn’t shake.
He shot a glance at the surveillance cara mounted in the corner, knowing the world was watching. Outside his cell, Han Zhan stood poised, ready to broadcast the event live to the noble patriarchs, councillors, generals, and marshals. They were all about to witness sothing they weren’t prepared for.
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