THE WESTERN GATE
1338 Words
By the time darkness settled over the Shen residence, Yichen had already made his decision.
He waited.
He listened.
One by one, the servants disappeared into their quarters. The lamps along the corridors were extinguished until only a few remained burning.
Yichen sat beside his window, dressed in dark clothing, his cloak folded beside him.
He had spent the entire evening thinking about the note.
Someone wanted him at the western archives.
Someone knew about his mother.
And someone knew enough about the palace to choose a place the Emperor had ordered sealed.
That alone made the message dangerous.
But Yichen had spent his entire life being told to stay away from the truth.
Tonight, he was done listening.
He slipped the jade beneath his robe and quietly opened his door.
The corridor was empty.
He stepped outside.
His first destination was not the western gate.
It was the old servants' passage behind the kitchens.
He had discovered it years ago while hiding from his father's steward after breaking a porcelain vase.
Few people used it anymore.
If anyone was watching the residence, they wouldn't expect him to leave that way.
Yichen moved silently through the passage.
He pushed open the wooden door at the end.
Cold air touched his face.
The city beyond the residence was almost silent.
He pulled his hood over his head and disappeared into the darkness.
He didn't notice the figure standing on the upper balcony.
The figure watched him leave.
Then slowly turned away.
The walk to the palace took longer than Yichen expected.
He stayed away from the main roads and avoided the lantern-lit streets whenever possible.
When he finally reached the outer palace wall, he stopped.
The western section rose ahead of him.
Dark.
Silent.
Abandoned.
At least, that was what it appeared to be.
Yichen remembered Xiao Lian's reaction when the Emperor had ordered the western archives sealed.
The prince had known something.
That bothered him.
If Xiao Lian knew about the archives, why hadn't he told Yichen what was inside?
Perhaps he didn't know.
Or perhaps he was protecting someone.
Yichen pushed the thought away.
He had enough questions already.
He followed the wall until he reached a narrow opening between two old buildings.
The gate ahead was guarded.
Two men stood beneath a lantern, speaking quietly.
Yichen crouched behind a stone wall.
He waited.
One guard walked away.
The other remained.
Yichen looked around.
There was nowhere else to go.
Then he noticed a small drainage passage beneath the wall.
It was barely wide enough for a person.
He stared at it.
“You have to be joking.”
He lowered himself.
The passage smelled terrible.
By the time he emerged on the other side, his cloak was covered in dirt.
He stood and brushed himself off.
Then he looked up.
The western archives were directly ahead.
His heart began to beat faster.
The building looked nothing like the rest of the palace.
There were no painted doors.
No golden decorations.
No guards standing proudly outside.
Only a massive wooden structure covered in years of dust.
And yet—
someone had been there recently.
Yichen noticed fresh footprints in the dirt.
He crouched.
One set.
Then another.
He followed them toward the entrance.
The door was closed.
Yichen reached for the handle.
It moved.
Unlocked.
His expression tightened.
Someone had left the door open for him.
That was worse than finding it locked.
He pushed it open.
The smell of old paper filled the air.
He stepped inside.
The door closed behind him.
Yichen waited.
Nothing happened.
He pulled out a small lantern and lit it.
Rows of shelves appeared in the dim light.
Documents.
Records.
Ancient scrolls.
Some were so old that the labels had faded completely.
He moved deeper into the archive.
His mother's name was all he could think about.
Lin Yuehua.
He searched the nearest shelves.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
Then he found a section marked with dates.
He scanned them quickly.
Twenty years ago.
Nineteen.
Eighteen.
His fingers stopped.
Twenty years ago.
He pulled out a record.
The cover was black.
No title.
He opened it.
The first page contained a list of names.
Most were unfamiliar.
Palace servants.
Officials.
Physicians.
Military officers.
Then he saw it.
Lin Yuehua.
Yichen's breath caught.
He turned the page.
The record was incomplete.
Several sections had been deliberately removed.
He flipped through the remaining pages.
There were notes about her arrival at the palace.
Her duties.
Her disappearance.
Then—
nothing.
No explanation.
No death record.
No burial record.
No transfer.
Just silence.
Yichen frowned.
If his mother had died, there should have been a record.
If she had left the palace, there should have been a record.
Someone had erased her.
But why?
He turned another page.
A small piece of paper fell from the binding.
Yichen picked it up.
There was handwriting on it.
He recognized it immediately.
His mother's.
His hands began to tremble.
Only four words were written.
He was never your father.
Yichen stopped breathing.
The lantern nearly slipped from his hand.
He read the sentence again.
And again.
His mind refused to understand it.
Shen Rong wasn't his father?
Impossible.
He had spent twenty-two years believing—
A sound came from behind him.
Yichen turned sharply.
The archive was empty.
He raised the lantern.
Nothing.
“Who's there?”
Silence.
He slowly reached beneath his robe.
His fingers closed around the jade.
Another sound.
This time, from the shelves.
Someone was moving.
Yichen stepped backward.
A shadow passed between two rows.
He grabbed the nearest wooden pole and held it like a weapon.
“Come out.”
Nothing.
Then a voice whispered from the darkness.
“You shouldn't have come.”
Yichen froze.
“Who are you?”
The figure stepped into the lantern light.
A young man.
Dressed in palace clothing.
His face was partially covered.
Yichen tightened his grip on the pole.
“Remove your mask.”
The stranger didn't move.
“You need to leave.”
“Not until you tell me who you are.”
“You're asking questions that will get you killed.”
“I've been hearing that all day.”
The stranger looked toward the document in Yichen's hand.
“Did you read it?”
Yichen's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because now you know.”
“Know what?”
The stranger was silent.
Yichen stepped closer.
“Who is my father?”
The man's eyes changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
Before he could answer, footsteps thundered outside.
The stranger's head snapped toward the door.
“They're here.”
“Who?”
“The people who were supposed to make sure you never found this place.”
Yichen's heart dropped.
“How many?”
The stranger didn't answer.
He grabbed Yichen's arm.
“There's another exit.”
Yichen pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
“You don't have time.”
The doors of the archives shook.
Someone was trying to break them open.
Yichen looked toward the stranger.
Then toward the door.
“Who sent you?”
The stranger hesitated.
And that hesitation told Yichen more than any answer could.
He didn't know whether he could trust this man.
But there was no time.
The door splintered.
The stranger grabbed his arm again.
“This way!”
They ran between the shelves.
Behind them, the archive doors burst open.
Several armed men rushed inside.
“Search every room!”
Yichen's heartbeat thundered.
He followed the stranger through a narrow passage hidden behind a shelf.
Before disappearing into the darkness, he looked back.
One of the guards had picked up the document Yichen had dropped.
The guard looked at the first page.
Then his face went pale.
“It's the boy.”
Another man turned.
“What?”
The guard held up the document.
“Lin Yuehua's son.”
The men exchanged looks.
Then one of them gave a quiet order.
“Forget the records.”
His eyes hardened.
“Find Yichen.”
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD