8 Donning the Phoenix Crown

Xiao Ying numbly picked himself off of the floor, staggering back into his chair, gasping at every breath, cold settling into his bones, goose bumps on his skin.

The pseudo weight of the hair that he did not possess and the sharp metal that dug into his scalp, made concentrating difficult.

He ran his hands up and down his arms, making sure that there was no silk on his skin. He ran his fingers through his shorn hair, back and forth, back and forth, trying to convince his brain that there was nothing on his head.

Tears almost sprung to Xiao Ying's eyes as he frantically dug his nails into his temples, desperate to convince his brain that there was nothing piled up on his head, that there was no heavy, ornate robe draped on his skin.

He looked up to the screen, vision slightly blurry as he watched Xiao Ying wash those lentils, completely oblivious to the world around him, blessed with a laser point focus that Xiao Ying could only dream of.

He closed his eyes and began to count his breaths, shivering every now and then as he sought to calm himself.

Xiao Ying had no idea he had spent in that state, simply counting from one to five, over and over again, emulating his protagonist and sinking deeper and deeper into a distinct calmness, almost characterised by the hyper awareness of everything that Xiao Ying was feeling.

He could smell the perfume that was draped over him, the distinct fragrance of magnolias that he had given Ming Cheng's mother to wear, based off Xiao Ying's own mother's favourite perfume.

The shape of the headpiece that Xiao Ying was bearing also became incredibly sharp. He could feel the sloping curves of gold the individual weights of each precious of the gems imbedded inside.

But with his bare hands, Xiao Ying felt nothing.

He opened his eyes again, marvelling as he saw little Ming Cheng settled in his bed for the night, his tiny body curled up in Lan Chang's arms as he tried to find some peace and rest.

Xiao Ying knew that little Ming Cheng would be finding it too difficult to sleep, the small room with only a bed, dresser and chest too quiet for him.

He was in unfamiliar territory and was too suspicious of any potential unidentifiable threats that may accost him. He led down, facing the door of the room with his body mostly obscured by blankets, arranged as if Lan Chang was hugging them rather than sleeping with them covering her body for warmth.

Xiao Ying had planned out a sequence of nightmares that little Ming Cheng would be facing throughout his first nights at the palace, but ultimately hadn't included them, deciding to skip immediately to cover the events of the night to get to the interesting arcs of the story quicker.

In this world, however, Xiao Ying was given full reign to watch what happened to Ming Cheng, whenever the focus was off of him.

Ming Cheng would soon be struggling and the ghost of his deceased mother would appear to him.

Mere moments before it happened, Xiao Ying saw the camera angle of the screen that he was viewing shift to face Ming Cheng's face directly, as if a camera was fixed upon it and ardently refusing to leave it alone.

Ming Cheng opened his eyes and froze.

He stopped breathing.

He stopped moving.

Gulping once, before closing his eyes.

Xiao Ying had seen what had been reflected within his eyes.

A pale, transparent figure, dressed in all the finery that could be expressed to the emperor's favoured concubines, but with eyes that were hollow and missing, a black void in their place.

"A blank abyss that felt as if it was sucking out your own soul, feeding off your very own life energy and seizing it as its own" Xiao Ying mumbled out, coming up with the description then and there, just from looking at the brief glimpse into the madness of that reflection.

Xiao Ying curled up in his chair, deciding to plaster himself to the surface, wrapping his arms around his legs, ducking his head down to watch the ensuing conversation with enough insurance that he could simply duck down and cover his eyes in case he needed to.

He fell back, his fingers gripping the hems of his jeans, and waited.

And waited.

Xiao Ying's face turned down, and continued watching as Ming Cheng paled further and further, his skin becoming paler and paler, his body becoming stiller and stiller.

Xiao Ying was sure that the child wasn't even breathing anymore.

What was happening!?

Almost immediately, the ghost of Ming Cheng's mother spoke to her child, reassuring him, comforting him, and told him that she would become his protector and advisor, his teacher, filling him with the information that he needed to survive in this hell scape of a place.

She was supposed to be the main source of mystery for a while, but she wasn't doing anything.

"Hey!" Xiao Ying called out, hoping that maybe he could do something, considering that he was feeling right now as if he was wearing the same clothes that she was.

They were connected in a way, but it looked as one way.

Xiao Ying's speech clearly was doing nothing, but maybe there was another way.

The keyboard almost shone from the desk in front of him.

He tapped a message, something innocuous that wouldn't seem too out of place, if he was in the place of frightened Ming Cheng, in his story.

He typed out," Don't be scared,", imbuing his message with hope - hope for Ming Cheng and hope for himself.

If this hairbrained idea was going to lead to something, despite everything the Xiao Ying had hyped up in his mind, despite his expectations, despite all his self aggrandising anger and hype, he really didn't want to do this.

He really didn't want to become a parent.

Ming Cheng's eyes opened.