Choice without choice

      Too many legends had formed around the current imperial heir. Stories passed from one mouth to another among commoners, so embellished that Jin would only raise a black eyebrow in amused disbelief.             With the tremble of childish wonder — like a fairy tale that would never come true.             Sometimes, voices spoke with scorn, or cruel mockery born from jealousy.             They said the Star Prince was so beautiful, he looked like a delicate lotus in full bloom.             – Don’t look him in the eyes, they said. You’ll lose your head.             Men turned away, shame burning in their chests. Women blushed like the ripest, sweetest fruit.             Jin had heard it all: that he’d nearly caused a war, that he was one of Tian Sheng Huangdi’s most trusted advisors — his own father — and other nonsense Jin couldn’t take seriously if he tried.             One night, his sweet little sister Mei had whispered with excitement, eyes sparkling like fireworks:             — He looks like a porcelain doll. His skin — smooth porcelain. His hair — always tied with a golden pin and feli koi, flowing down his back like a black waterfall. His lips — always curved in the perfect shape. But maybe the most beautiful thing about him are his eyes. Narrow, slightly slanted, with corners smudged like ink...             She went quiet, burying her face in the rough straw-filled cloth they dared to call a pillow. A poor excuse for one.             — I wish I could see him. Even just once.             — And why are you so sure he’s that beautiful, my dear Mei? — Jin, only fourteen at the time, sat in the corner of the room, his back pressed to the damp walls. His fingers slid along the strings of his pipa without playing.             It might’ve looked like he wasn’t paying attention to his energetic little sister (as their mother often called her), but Mei knew better.             — Lini told me.             — Lini’s not exactly the most reliable source. Keep listening to her — you’ll end up with clouds for brains, — the boy said flatly.             — Oh, please! Like you’ve got anything more interesting to say, — she rolled her eyes. — All you think about is that pipa of yours. You don’t even pay attention to me! Rude Jin.             His cheek twitched in a half-smile, and he said dreamily:             — You’ll see, Mei. I’ll pull us out of here with my voice and, as you so kindly put it, the pipa I never part with — even in thought.             — Will you introduce me to the Star Prince then? — she asked, skeptically.             — Not just him, — Jin puffed his chest with pride. — Even the Emperor himself.             — I believe you, big brother, — she beamed, lying back and spreading her arms, inviting him in for a hug.             Jin didn’t hesitate.             Now, he remembered those days with aching nostalgia — like the bitter taste of tobacco burning on the tip of his rotten tongue, ruined by the lies he once told.             And the phantom pain... echoing in every beat of his small, broken heart.             He really had climbed out of the dirt — and into the light.             He had everything now: fresh food that made his heart spin in joyful madness, the Emperor’s recognition, a warm bed — so different from the straw piles he once shared with his mother and sister to survive the cruelest winter nights.             But what was the cost of that comfort? That sense of importance?             Betrayal of the ones he loved, sacrificed for his own gain. Strange marks that spread across his body like a repulsive web. And a disgusting voice, creeping louder with each passing day.             It was driving him insane.             Guilt. Pity. Disgust at himself.             It all mixed together into the bitterest ergotou, which he sometimes drank in the company of his so-called court friends.             — You’re pathetic, — said the mocking voice, either his own or the demon’s — Jin wasn’t sure anymore.             He was pathetic.             He deserved hell — for his selfishness, for his betrayal, for his lies.             — Lost in thought? — the soft, smooth baritone broke the silence.             Jin focused his gaze on the prince, once again drawn to the way he looked in the warm candlelight.             The Star Prince...             No — Zhao Yun truly was indescribably beautiful. With just the right makeup, he could be mistaken for a princess instead of a prince.                   Sometimes Jin thought Zhao Yun wasn’t made of flesh and blood at all, but of silk, jade, and mist. Too perfect to be human, too dangerous to be a god.             His skin was truly like porcelain — in the sunlight, nearly transparent, like the surface of a frozen lake.             His features — delicate, refined, predatory like a fox. The dimple on his chin too precise. His high forehead covered by soft, dark bangs Jin always wanted to brush aside.             His hair — silky and long. Surely natural. Touch it, and you’d feel sakura petals blooming under your fingers.             They were right — criminally beautiful. So much so that it left you stunned, burning with shameful desire, cheeks and ears flushed red.             But he wasn’t just pretty. He knew how to use it — the bastard — and still managed to sleep peacefully at night.             — Jin?             — Forgive me, Star Prince. I was just... lost in thought, — he shook his head, knowing full well that Yun had caught him staring.             The prince chuckled, saying nothing, and continued writing characters with graceful precision. The soft plucking of the pipa echoed again, like morning water trickling through the halls.             Since Jin had arrived at the palace, the Crown Prince asked him to visit almost every night.             Jin had no idea why. Maybe the demon had something to do with it. Or maybe Zhao Yun had his own reasons. Perhaps Jin would play a role in some plan.             He wouldn’t mind. If the prince smiled at him, Jin would poison the Emperor without hesitation — all it would take was a glance.             Most nights, the Star Prince stayed silent. He rarely spoke with his father’s favorite court musician.             Jin didn’t mind. Around the prince, the demon went quiet. So did the voice. Sometimes, Jin didn’t want to leave his chambers at all — just to delay the return of that gnawing self-hatred.             But tonight felt... different.             — You know, Jin... you remind me of someone.             — Who? — he wanted to bite his own tongue off for asking, but his fingers kept playing.             Zhao Yun laughed lightly, forgetting the reports he’d been writing.             — My late brother, — he said with a sigh, resting his cheek on his hand and brushing Jin’s face casually — or so it seemed. — You know, I killed him.             The sweet melody from the pipa halted. Jin froze, fingers hovering above the strings.             The prince continued, as if he were talking about the weather. Bored, almost.             — Until I was fourteen, I really did look like a lovely girl. For fun, my servants used to braid my hair and paint my lips. But that’s all it was — fun. My older brother — he used to be crown prince, too — thought it would be amusing to dress me in silk and... violate me.             His voice was steady. No pain. No anger. But Jin tensed with each word, picturing it.             — I begged him to stop. I cried. Apologized. But he didn’t listen.             A pause. His brows knitted in thought.             — If I remember right, he said: “Girls cry. So cry more.”             — Why are you telling me this? — Jin interrupted, heart pounding. His voice sounded foreign — hoarse and shaking.             Another smile — completely wrong for the moment. Like a misplaced mask.             Zhao Yun rose from his seat and stepped toward Jin, kneeling before him. Jin flinched as the prince reached for his cheek.             But the fingers simply trailed from temple to jaw... then down to his neck.             There, he found the vein — pulsing in a rhythm all too familiar. Fear. Anticipation.             — You’re afraid of me, — Zhao Yun said, almost kindly. — No need to be. I’m telling you this because I like you. And I have a proposal.             Jin’s mouth dried up. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.             — What kind of proposal?             — You have a mother and a younger sister, don’t you? I can place them in the Inner Court as servants. Under my protection, they’ll live comfortably. I promise.             — And what do you want from me...?             The prince’s smile curled, snake-like. His eyes narrowed. Jin immediately regretted asking, especially when the hand on his neck tightened slightly.             — You interest me. I’d like to spend a night with you.             The slap came fast. Zhao Yun pulled his hand back, surprised — but still amused.             — I’m not forcing you, Jin. If I wanted to hurt you, I could’ve done it easily.             Despite being shorter, the prince had a fearsome military reputation — and Jin believed every word of it.             The anger in Zhao Yun’s eyes faded, replaced by calm.             — I don’t want to be like my brother. But I won’t pretend I don’t have desires. I’ll accept your answer, whatever it is. You can even hit me again... though I doubt the consequences will disappear that easily, — he chuckled awkwardly.             All in all, it was a tempting offer.             But still...             God, what had he just proposed?             Jin’s cheeks turned red. He looked away.             «I'd love to spit in his face... who the hell does he think I am?!»–he shouted silently.             The demon, if awake, would’ve laughed.             No — he couldn’t decide now. That would be foolish. So he said:             — Would you mind giving me a few days?             — Of course, — Zhao Yun said, without hesitation.             And Jin knew: these would be the longest days of his life.