Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

"Zilong!" Liu Bei reined in his frightened warhorse, his voice hoarse. His black cloak was stained with blood, Guan Yu's back was pierced by an arrow, and Zhang Fei's lance was still dripping with blood. Zhao Yun rode up alone and, with a single thrust of his silver spear, knocked a charging Xiliang cavalryman off his horse. "Lord Xuande, hurry!" He spun around and stood in front of the crowd, his white armor reflecting the moonlight like an impenetrable wall of ice.

Three hundred loyal followers formed a cone-shaped formation, their spears like a forest, resisting the Xiliang army's attack. Zhao Yun's spear tip flashed with a cold gleam, instantly sending three generals flying. Blood splattered on his frosted brow. Ma Dai roared, slashing with his sword, but Zhao Yun dodged it and struck him straight at the throat. In the nick of time, an arrow suddenly shot from the Xiliang army. Zhao Yun swung his spear to block it, but the arrowhead grazed his ear, severing several strands of his hair.

"Escort Lord Xuande into the city!" Zhao Yun shouted, and the White Horse Volunteers parted like a tide, clearing the passage. Liu Bei gazed at Zhao Yun, his silver armor soaked in blood—his robe ripped by arrows, blood seeping through the cracks in his armor, forming dark red scabs in the cold night. The moment the city gates slammed shut behind him, the Xiliang army's offensive collided with the iron wall. Zhao Yun's silver spear still gleamed coldly on the top of the city wall, like an eternal fighting spirit.

Gilded palace lanterns cast a swaying halo of light across the dragon-shaped caisson ceiling. The beauty in the arms of Emperor Liu Bian whimpered and rolled off the brocade couch. Her delicate arms had barely clasped the laces of the emperor's fur coat when her dragon-patterned boots trampled the scent of her perfumed flesh onto the floor. Liu Bian clutched the eunuch's collar, his fingertips practically digging into his throat. "Where are Liu Bei's generals Guan Yu and Zhang Fei? How far is the Xiliang army from the city gate?"

From outside the palace, a chill wind carried sporadic cries of killing. Liu Xie's hand, clutching the pills, suddenly trembled. Three crimson pills shone eerily in his palm—they were the "miracle elixir" bestowed upon him by the emperor. Simply mixing them into the emperor's daily dose of miraculous elixir, and suddenly increasing the dosage, would bring the scheming emperor to a sudden demise in his debauchery. He gazed at his brother's anxious back, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty, and suddenly remembered Wang Yun's sinister whisper: "If Liu Bei is defeated, the emperor will be in chaos. This is a heaven-sent opportunity..."

"Be prepared to see His Majesty!"

Liu Bei, his robe brushing against the cool golden bricks, burst into the hall, his body covered in blood and frost. His hair crown was askew, and the wound on his forehead was still bleeding, staining a strand of white hair near his ear red. Guan Yu knelt on one knee, pressing the broken sword at his waist. Zhang Fei leaned on his snake spear, panting heavily, the blood scabs in the cracks of his armor falling with each breath.

Liu Bian's fur coat slipped off his shoulders, revealing a dark undershirt embroidered with coiled dragons. He stared at the empty palace gate behind Liu Bei and suddenly shouted, "Where's Zhao Yun? Where are the Chang'an troops?!" Before he could finish his words, hurried footsteps echoed outside the palace. Silver armor, reflecting the gleam of snow, shattered the threshold. Zhao Yun fell to one knee, his shining silver spear clanging to the ground. The blood on his white armor had frozen to a dark purple, and a half-broken arrowhead lodged in his right shoulder.

"I'm late to protect my lord." A sweet and fishy feeling welled up in Zhao Yun's throat, and his vision went dark. Three hundred White Horse Volunteers had been left behind, and now he was the only one left, covered in blood. He caught a glimpse of the blood dripping from Liu Bei's sleeve and struggled to stand, but Liu Bian grabbed his shoulder.

The emperor's fingertips touched the cool silver armor, and he suddenly remembered Liu Bei's advice at the banquet. Outside the palace, the wind and snow howled, strangely overlapping with the sounds of stringed instruments from the banquet that day. He stared at the arrow wound on Zhao Yun's shoulder, then suddenly turned to stare at the eunuchs: "Ru Ru, call the imperial physician! And—" He tore open his cloak and swung it towards Liu Bei, the dragon-patterned brocade covering the frost and snow on his black battle robe. "Serve the meal! Have the imperial kitchen heat up the deer blood wine that's been kept in the imperial box!"

Liu Xie stole a glance at the dragon throne and saw Liu Bian personally bandaging Guan Yu's wound. The beads dangling from his crown brushed against the general's bloody hand. Suddenly, he heard his own hoarse voice: "Brother, the Xiliang army's offensive..."

"Pass the order down," Liu Bian abruptly stood up, his dragon robe sweeping the gilded incense burner on the table. "Open the granary in the West Market to provide relief to the wounded, and have everyone in the Imperial Medical Bureau wait at the Vermillion Bird Gate!" He looked at Liu Bei's bloodstained face and suddenly lowered his voice: "Lord Xuande, tonight..."

Before he could finish his words, a loud crash erupted from outside the palace. Wang Yun stumbled through the palace gates, his crown askew and his official robes splattered with mud. "Your Majesty! The Western Liang army... is storming the city gates with battering rams! General Lü Bu is..."

Inside the hall, the gilded beast furnace belched out wisps of green smoke, but the pervasive stench of blood could not be dispelled. Blood scabs caked on Liu Bei's dark battle robe fell with his movements, leaving dark marks on the blue brick floor. He forced himself to stand upright, his bloodstained fingertips nearly sinking into his palms. As he saluted, the jade pendant at his waist collided with his bloodstained armor, making a dull sound.

Liu Bian slowly walked down the Panlong Golden Stairs. He looked at the hideous wound on Liu Bei's forehead, the broken arrow shaft on Guan Yu's shoulder, and the black blood seeping from the cracks in Zhang Fei's armor. His brows furrowed slightly, and his tone was filled with worry: "Uncle, your injuries..." He raised his hand to support him, but paused when he touched Liu Bei's bloody sleeve. "Everyone is injured, how can we fight again?"

Liu Bei raised his head abruptly, his eyes blazing with fire: "Your Majesty! The walls of Chang'an are strong, and the moat is as solid as iron!" Behind him, Guan Yu knelt on one knee, pressing down on the broken sword, his knuckles white with the force; Zhang Fei leaned on his snake spear and gasped for breath, blood oozing from under his iron armor dripping down the spear head, spreading hideous bloodstains on the gold bricks. "Even if the Xiliang army has thousands of soldiers and horses, we can definitely hold on! Your Majesty, please sit down, we will leave now!"

Before he could finish his words, the three men dropped to their knees, their dark robes spreading like dark clouds. Without waiting for the emperor's response, they leaped to their feet. The clanging of armor startled the maids below, who retreated. The heavy palace door slammed shut behind them, and a chill wind blew in, carrying the distant sound of war drums.

"Zilong!"

Zhao Yun paused as he was about to turn and leave. His silver armor gleamed coldly in the candlelight. He sank heavily to one knee, the half-broken arrowhead lodged in his right shoulder scraping against the bricks, sending out a string of sparks. "I am here!"

Liu Bian slowly approached him, gazing at the cracked silver armor—a broken arrow half lodged in the hollow of his shoulder, a deep gouge carved into the chest armor by a sharp blade, the lining beneath soaked with blood. He recalled the military report: three hundred White Horse Volunteers had died in the battle to protect Liu Bei, leaving only Zhao Yun, bloodied and returning.

"All the personal guards were killed, and you are the only one left..." Liu Bian reached out and pressed the scarred silver armor. His fingertips touched the cold metal, but he seemed to feel the scorching temperature under the armor. "This shows your loyalty and bravery." He paused and softened his voice: "The Chang'an defenders are at your disposal. But..." The emperor's eyes swept over Zhao Yun's pale face and his fingertips trembling slightly due to blood loss. "You must take care of your body."

Zhao Yun's throat suddenly choked, his eyes instantly reddening. Since following his lord, he'd fought countless battles, bearing countless wounds, yet no one had ever shown such concern for his safety. He prostrated himself, his forehead touching the ground heavily: "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your concern! I will live up to your trust and ensure the safety of Chang'an!" As he stood, his bright silver spear dragged a sharp sound along the ground, and he turned and strode away.

A cold wind blew the snow into the hall, making the candlelight on the table flicker. Liu Bian turned and waved to Liu Xie, who clutched the sweat-soaked corner of his clothes in his sleeve and stepped forward.

"Is my royal brother afraid?" Liu Bian's voice was tinged with the warm aroma of alcohol, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the dragon-shaped pattern on the jade sword at his waist. He looked at his younger brother's pale face and recalled the Luoyang fire many years ago. This child who always liked to tug at his clothes had now grown into a handsome young prince.

Liu Xie's Adam's apple rolled with difficulty, his fingers clenching tightly beneath his wide sleeves. "Your Majesty... Your Majesty, I'm not afraid, and neither am I." He forced a smile, but it couldn't hide the slight trembling of his shoulders. His moon-white robe rose and fell with his breathing, like a candle flickering in the cold wind. A dull knock on a door in the distance startled him, causing his eyelashes to flutter violently and nearly breaking his back teeth.

Liu Bian suddenly reached out, his wide robe sleeve brushing against Liu Xie's cold cheek. He gazed at the suppressed fear in his younger brother's eyes, and a rare touch of tenderness crept into his heart. His fingertips brushed across the other's trembling shoulders, and the emperor's voice, unusually gentle, said, "Royal brother, return home with peace of mind." He turned to gaze at the billowing snow outside the palace, his dark dragon robe rustling in the wind. "The sky won't fall—Chang'an City is ten feet high, the moat five feet deep. Even if the Western Liang cavalry roamed the world, what could they do to me?"

He suddenly grasped Liu Xie's wrist, the warmth of his palm radiating through the brocade. "When their fighting spirit is exhausted and they return to Xiliang, they will be like a pile of loose sand. Once we destroy Yuan Shao, we'll then conquer Xiliang! This world will eventually be..." Liu Bian's pupils suddenly contracted, but he still forced a smile and patted the back of his younger brother's hand. "Go back. Remember, the Han Dynasty will not fall."

Liu Xie watched his brother's upright figure disappear behind the gilded screen, the rustling of his crown gradually fading into the distant beat of war drums. The warmth of his brother's pat on his shoulder lingered, a strange warmth that tightened his throat. The three elixirs hidden in his sleeves pressed against his palm, burning so hot they threatened to burn through his flesh.

The cold wind rang the bronze bells in the corners of the palace, and Liu Xie vaguely remembered his brother pushing the sweetest osmanthus cake toward him at a palace banquet in his childhood. Back then, the emperor, still adorned with the heavy imperial crown, would smile and rub his hair, saying, "When you grow up, I will make you the most majestic prince." But now the throne is cold, and the bloody winds of power have long since crushed the warmth of the past.

"Perhaps my brother can really hold Chang'an..." he muttered to himself. If the Xiliang army retreated, and my brother wiped out the feudal lords, he could live a peaceful and prosperous life as a prince, free from the struggle for survival in the vortex of power struggles. This would be a blessing.

Yet, as soon as the thought formed, memory coiled around his neck like a venomous snake. The lust for power, like wildfire, instantly burned through his hesitation. Liu Xie gritted his teeth, tasting blood. He remembered the suspicion lurking beneath his brother's imperial crown, the vague scrutiny the court gave him, and the longing for the throne that gnawed at his heart as he tossed and turned in the night.

"Don't be softhearted," he whispered into the void, his fists clenched tightly beneath his wide sleeves. Turning, his moon-white robe brushed against the cracks on the Panlong Pillar, where traces of the recent rain of arrows still lingered. Following Wang Yun's muddy footprints as he departed, Liu Xie stepped into the snowy wind. The elixir in his sleeves clattered gently with each step, making a subtle, bewitching sound.