bullyxtreme V.5.01. Li Xuanyi
V.5.01. Li Xuanyi
The wooden room stands in quiet simplicity, its smooth planks holding a warm tone that softens the space without ornament or excess.One wall remains entirely open, wide unbarred windows allowing uninterrupted light and air to flow freely through the room.
At the far end, two adjoining walls extend outward, forming a slightly enclosed section with windows opening on three sides.
This corner feels bright and airy, almost suspended between the indoor stillness and the breathing world beyond.
Sunlight spills across the wooden floor in shifting patterns, stretching and retreating as the day slowly moves.
A gentle breeze slips through the open sides, stirring the quiet air with a constant, almost soothing motion.
Near the centre rests a low floor table, plain yet sturdy, its surface empty except for its quiet presence.
A man and a woman sit side by side at one end, their posture relaxed, yet their attention remains focused forward.
Across from them sits another woman alone, framed by open windows, the light outlining her figure softly.
She meets their gaze steadily, the moment calm, deliberate, and filled with quiet weight.
Li Jin Xuan, also known as Duke Wei, speaks in an even tone.
“Miss Xue, all noble families and rebels have agreed with Bao’er taking the throne.”
“Until he comes of age, a regent council will govern the kingdom in his name.”
Xue Rong watches him closely, her gaze steady, silently urging him to continue.
Li Jin Xuan continues without pause, his voice measured and composed.
“Shen Weiming, head of the Shen Family, Kong Yi, head of White Deer Academy, Ji Ming, head of the Protectrate, and—”
Xue Rong lifts her hand, stopping him, her brows tightening with confusion.
“Protectrate, what is it? I know Ji Ming leads the rebel army.”
Li Jin Xuan chuckles softly, the sound light within the stillness of the room.
“They can no longer remain rebels, so Ji Ming renamed his army the Protectrate.”
“Most rebels return to farming, leaving only the elite under his command.”
He lifts his teacup slowly, taking a measured sip before placing it back down.
“He formed the Protectrate to move across the official world, punishing corrupt officials and merchants.”
Xue Rong nods slowly, absorbing each word with growing understanding.
“So Shen Weiming, Kong Yi, and Ji Ming will serve on the regent council.”
Li Jin Xuan glances at Su Qinrou beside him, his expression softening slightly.
Su Qinrou meets his gaze and gives a quiet, confirming nod.
Li Jin Xuan turns back toward Xue Rong, his eyes steady and intent.
“And you will also serve on the regent council.”
Xue Rong freezes, shock breaking through her calm as her lips part slightly.
“What?”
Su Qinrou reaches forward, her sleeve brushing lightly across the table as she takes Xue Rong’s hand.
Her touch feels warm, steady, and quietly reassuring.
“Sister Xue Rong, in a month, we will return to the north with the royal relatives.”
“We want you to represent us here.”
Xue Rong shakes her head immediately, her grip tightening as her voice trembles.
“You cannot leave. I would not have returned with Bao’er if I knew this.”
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Her eyes begin to glisten, fear rising openly as her composure starts to fracture.
“If you leave, then I will take Bao’er and leave as well.”
Su Qinrou shakes her head gently, her voice soft yet firm with quiet resolve.
“You understand Bao’er holds all factions together; his presence prevents everything from collapsing.”
“If Bao’er leaves now, a civil war will erupt, and no one desires such chaos.”
“They will never allow him to leave at this moment.”
Xue Rong looks at them, anger and betrayal burning through her tear-filled eyes.
Su Qinrou’s gaze softens further, filled with apology and quiet helplessness.
“Sister Xue, I also do not wish to leave, but news has come from the border.”
“The Snowy Mountain tribes are becoming active once again.”
Her fingers tighten slightly around Xue Rong’s hand, as if holding onto something fragile.
“For this reason, we must return to the north.”
Li Jin Xuan speaks again, his tone calm, carrying quiet authority.
“Miss Xue, Yi Zhenhao will remain here to advise you in political matters.”
“His sister, Yi Lanying, will stay with her Fragrant Guards to protect you and Bao’er.”
Xue Rong falls silent, her thoughts sinking inward as emotions churn within her.
The room grows still, broken only by the soft whisper of wind through the open windows.
After a long moment, she exhales slowly and gives a reluctant nod.
“With Bao’er on the throne, what will happen to Li Xuanyu?”
Li Jin Xuan sighs softly, a trace of helplessness passing across his expression.
“I tried to persuade them to spare Li Xuanyu, but they refused to yield.”
“They insist Li Xuanyu must die.”
Xue Rong presses her lips together, her emotions tangling into something heavy and painful.
Love and hatred twist together within her chest, neither willing to give way.
Li Jin Xuan continues, his voice steady but shadowed with concern.
“They fear him, and rightly so; no fortress could withstand him if he recovers.”
He pauses briefly, his gaze lowering as he recalls the past.
“To capture him, three factions gathered a thousand men and attacked him in the throne room.”
“He killed every one of them.”
A shadow crosses his eyes, lingering for a brief moment.
“He only fell because their weapons were coated with poison.”
“That single moment allowed me to enter the city and force the factions into balance.”
“They now stand together only because they must face him.”
Su Qinrou gently squeezes Xue Rong’s hand again, offering silent comfort.
“Sister Xue, you know Li Xuanyu better than anyone else here.”
“You understand what he will do once he recovers.”
Xue Rong lowers her gaze to the rising steam from her teacup.
Her thoughts sink deeper, swallowed by a heavy and unspoken silence.
Beneath the earth, an excavated chamber stretches wide, its rough stone walls bearing marks of deliberate carving.
The ceiling arches unevenly above, supported by thick stone ribs that cast long shadows across the space.
Iron brackets line the walls, each holding flickering candles that drip wax slowly onto the cold stone below.
The dim light wavers constantly, bending shapes and stretching shadows into restless forms.
Heat gathers faintly beneath the enclosed space, mixing with the damp chill rising from the ground.
The air feels heavy, thick with the scent of iron, old blood, and lingering decay.
At the far end stands a massive iron door, its surface scarred with scratches and dark stains.
The hinges sit thick and rusted, yet strong, sealing the chamber with an unyielding presence.
Beyond the door, silence reigns, broken only by the occasional drip of unseen moisture.
At the centre of the room, chains extend outward from the walls, pulled tight in all directions.
Each chain ends in cruel iron hooks that pierce deeply into flesh and bone.
A man hangs suspended among them, his body lifted above the ground, unable to rest or fall.
His skin is torn and bloodied, wounds covering him in layers both fresh and old.
Dark red trails run down his limbs, dripping steadily onto the stone floor beneath him.
The slow rhythm of dripping blood echoes faintly, marking time in the silent chamber.
His head hangs low, strands of matted hair clinging to his face, hiding his expression.
His breathing is shallow, uneven, barely disturbing the stillness around him.
The chains creak softly whenever his body shifts, even the slightest amount.
Time feels frozen here, stretched between suffering and endurance.
Then the iron door groans as it begins to open, its heavy weight dragging against the stone.
The sound tears through the silence, sharp and jarring within the enclosed space.
A narrow line of light cuts into the darkness as the door slowly parts.
Xue Rong steps inside, her movements steady, her expression unreadable.
She carries a tray in her hands, its contents hidden within the dim and flickering light.
The scent that enters with her is faint, yet distinct, cutting through the staleness of the room.
It carries familiarity, something long forgotten yet impossible to erase.
The man’s body stiffens almost imperceptibly as that scent reaches him.
After half a decade of absence, recognition stirs within his fading awareness.
His eyes open slowly, dull at first, then sharpen with a flicker of clarity.
Muscles strain as he lifts his head, chains tightening and biting deeper into his wounds.
Blood drips faster as movement returns to his broken body.
His gaze rises toward the figure standing before him.
They stare at each other, silence stretching as countless emotions pass between them in a single breath.
Shock flickers, then pain, then something softer, buried deep beneath years of separation.
Recognition settles fully, undeniable and heavy.
Li Xuanyu parts his dry lips, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
“Sorry.”
The single word falls into the chamber, quiet yet heavier than the chains binding him.
Xue Rong’s eyes tremble, tears gathering before slipping free and tracing down her cheeks.
Her fingers tighten slightly around the tray she carries, as if grounding herself against the moment.
She looks at him, truly looks, at the wounds, the blood, the man he has become.
Her voice comes out unsteady, carrying both accusation and longing.
“You are late.”
Li Xuanyu’s lips curve faintly, a tired smile that carries neither defence nor denial.
“I know.”
The words come without hesitation, simple, accepting, and filled with quiet regret.
The chains creak softly as he shifts, his body trembling under the strain.
Pain lingers in every movement, yet his gaze never leaves her.
Memories begin to surface within him, slow and unrelenting.