Gomei battled a high-grade fever for three nights. When he awoke at last, his mental faculties and memory were intact, but he had lost most of his eyesight.
In the aftermath, Shiyuu was swiftly identified as the culprit and executed. Empress Souen was quick to turn her back on him, claiming that the ambush had been entirely his idea. By pushing the argument that his true goal was to murder his little brother Genyou, not assassinate the crown prince, she was even able to spin the Palace of the Darkest Edge as one of the victims.
To express her deep gratitude to Gomei for protecting Genyou, she also decreed that the Darkest Edge would regard the Golden Qilin as a “sister palace” for the next five years. This was more than a mere appellation; it involved paying stipends on the Kou Palace’s behalf and sending them regular offerings. This was likely part of the reason why the empress didn’t call for Gomei’s disinheritance even after he went blind.
All the same, as the crown prince’s eyesight had deteriorated to the point that he could only barely tell the difference between day and night, he could do little but seclude himself in his Kou Palace room and live off the assistance of others. The Maiden Court that had been in the works for him was scrapped.
Soon after Gomei’s external wound had healed, Genyou visited the Palace of the Golden Qilin to apologize. Should Gomei or his mother have ordered it, he was fully prepared to gouge out both eyes as atonement.
And yet, Gomei only shrugged and chuckled. “I can hardly fault you when I acted of my own accord. If you’re still feeling guilty, just promise me this: Don’t ever lay a hand on anyone from the Kou Palace.” That was all the man with the bandaged eyes demanded of Genyou. “Oh, and take care of your mother. She has some issues, I realize, but she’s the one who brought you into this world.”
Gomei’s mother, Pure Consort Kou, pensively concurred. “I require no apologies from someone my son chose to protect.”
Thus did Genyou swear that he would never allow Kou blood to be spilled within the walls of the inner court—and that no matter how much he despised her, he would not take his mother’s life.
Even after taking that oath of atonement, Genyou was at a loss. He felt more inner turmoil than he ever had in his life. All the words and emotions he had once sealed away flooded his chest as if a dam had broken. As those waves lapped against his heart and wore him down, the awe he once felt toward Gomei turned to admiration, and the frustration to loyalty.
Genyou took off the mask of the Woodwork Prince and started making efforts to better himself—anything that could help him better support his older brother. In addition to Genyou’s daily training, he accompanied Gomei whenever the elder prince wanted to go for a walk. When Gomei wanted to read a book, he read aloud for him. If Gomei wanted to listen to music, he played the qin. He kept a close eye on his brother’s environment and removed any obstacles that cropped up. No matter how adamantly the Golden Qilin refused his charity, he visited the palace every day before dawn to leave a get-well gift, prostrate himself before Gomei’s room, and leave.
In hindsight, Genyou never did say much to Gomei. Still, he stuck to the man like a shadow and strove to make his everyday life as comfortable as possible.
“No need to always hang back, Genyou. Come sit next to me. Sunlit Bliss Hill is the perfect spot for sunbathing.”
Even after going blind, Gomei retained his cheerful demeanor. He laughed often, threw himself into his hobbies, and occasionally engaged in juvenile pranks. He once even came up with a melody for a poem he’d written and carved it into a mausoleum pillar. Although he cut back on his official duties, he never stopped exercising, and he particularly enjoyed going for walks on a small hill behind the Kou Palace. The gentle slope offered a gorgeous view, and at dawn one could stand there and watch the sunrise envelop the inner court building by building.
Gomei often climbed to the top of Sunlit Bliss Hill with a flute in hand, playing it when the mood struck. “The sun feels so nice,” he always murmured between pieces, closing his grayish eyes to bask in the warmth.
Each time Genyou listened to the song of Gomei’s flute, his heart ached. He knew the true reason his elder brother loved music.
“They aren’t singing for joy. They make music because it’s their only way to cope.”
Sunlit Bliss Hill looked out over the inner court and the city beyond its walls. What Gomei truly wished to bask in was not the sunlight—it was the view of the kingdom he was once meant to rule. Every day, he climbed that hill in the private hope that its light might reach his eyes.
“Say, Genyou. When I die, I want to be buried here on Sunlit Bliss Hill.”
“Surely you jest.” Genyou struggled to keep his voice from shaking. “You still have a long life ahead of you. And when you die of old age in the distant future, you will have to be buried in a grand tomb befitting a mighty emperor.”
Gomei laughed. “Sounds awful.” It was a testament to both his strength and his kindness that he didn’t outright deny the possibility. “No, I want it to be here. I’m counting on you to make it happen, Genyou.”