Chapter Text
“Beneath the vast heavens lies the Celestial Realm. Beneath the Celestial Realm walk the multitudes of humankind, under the sun and the moon…”
A man reclined half-sitting upon a stone couch, cradling a small boy whose eyelids drooped with sleep. The man’s hair was long and silver, smooth as a river of starlight, cascading over white robes that flowed like mist. His crimson eyes reflected the dim flame of a lonely palace lantern suspended above them.
He spoke slowly, as though reciting an ancient poem long forgotten by the world.
“…And beneath all those humans, there exists yet another world — our world of the deep — hidden far below the ocean without light, distant from the sun’s warmth and the winds of the upper earth…”
“Father… does the world above truly have a sun like in the stories you tell me?”
The child’s clear voice rang out softly. His pale blue eyes shimmered faintly with silver, like frost upon sacred water. Small hands wrapped tightly around his father’s waist.
The man paused.
A shadow of memory and quiet sorrow passed through his dark red gaze before he offered the boy a faint smile — to the child who was more precious to him than his own heart.
“Yes… it does. Above the world, beneath the borders of Heaven, there is a great round sun — beautiful and orange.”
The boy furrowed his brows thoughtfully. He touched his lips as if deep in contemplation, then whispered with eager excitement:
“Is the sun hot? Like the molten stone pit beneath our Dragon Palace?”
In the little boy’s world…
Orange. Red. Vermilion.
Those were colors of danger — of fire and infernal lava.
Blue. Azure. Deep indigo.
Those were colors of coolness, calm… and safety.
The Dragon King smiled again, his gaze softer than before. His large yet gentle hand drew the boy closer into his embrace. His voice was softer than breath itself — yet filled entirely with love.
“If you see the sun at dawn… or at dusk… it is not so hot. It is like candlelight in a dark room — warm, but not burning.”
The boy hesitated, then touched his father’s chest.
“And… if I touched the sun? Would I burn?”
The silver-haired man chuckled quietly. The sorrow that usually lingered in his eyes flickered away for a moment.
“Of course you would burn, foolish child. Who could ever climb high enough to touch the sun?”
“I could! When I grow up, I’ll fly into the sky! I’ll bring the sun down and place it by your window so you won’t have to light lanterns anymore!”
Laughter echoed through the dim Dragon Palace beneath the earth. It reverberated against cold stone pillars and ancient walls. A large hand moved to stroke the boy’s soft hair fondly.
“So capable, my child.”
The boy gazed upward at the watery ceiling above them, his eyes shimmering with dreams.
“Will I ever see it one day, Father?”
“Not yet,” the Dragon King murmured gently, stroking his son’s head. “The world above is exceedingly cruel. If you wish to see the sun… wait until you are a little older. I will take you myself.”
The boy pouted.
“I already know all my characters. I can recite more than ten spells. Will you still say I’m ‘too young’ and keep me sealed inside the Dragon Palace?”
The Dragon King laughed softly in his throat, his hand never ceasing its soothing motion.
“You are growing quickly… that is true. But the world above is not always as beautiful as in stories.” His voice lowered. “There is pain. Deception. People who smile before you while hiding blades behind their backs. The sun shines brightly… but the shadows it casts are long.”
He did not continue.
Instead, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his son’s forehead. His arms slowly loosened as he adjusted the thin blanket around the boy’s small body.
“Tonight… I cannot stay long. Sleep well, my child.” Regret tinged his voice. “I must inspect the western demonic boundary. Many things upon the mortal plane have begun to grow restless…”
Water trickled softly above them like a lullaby.
“…Will you return before dawn?” the boy asked sleepily.
“The western demonic lands are far. I shall return tomorrow night. Master Shen will visit you in the morning. Do not laze about.”
“…Mm. I’ll train hard. I’ll grow up quickly… and help you repair the demon seal.”
Soon the boy drifted into dreams of endless skies and sunlight he had never seen.
The Dragon King watched him.
This child… was beautiful.
So beautiful that sometimes he scarcely dared to look too long.
That purity stood in painful contrast to the burdens he carried.
The child resembled him in many ways — the eyes, the nose, the sharp lines that would one day become striking.
Yet… if one looked carefully…
There was someone else reflected there.
The curved lashes.
The small lips that moved faintly in sleep.
The curious gaze that seemed to question the world itself.
…You resemble him… far too much…
The Dragon King’s crimson eyes, usually hard as flame-bound magic, softened like fire touched by rain.
He had once destroyed everything precious to him.
And now he feared he might destroy this small life as well.
Because within Ao Bing’s face lay not only his own reflection…
But the shadow of another.
The only man who had dared tease him:
“This dragon is truly stubborn.”
The man who had taught a dragon how to love.
The man whose name he had never spoken again since that final night at the frozen cliffs between Heaven and the Abyss.
The man who had sealed the wounded Dragon King with ancient magic — binding him beneath the Dragon Fortress for eternity.
For hundreds of years, he had nurtured the egg born of that man’s blood and his own dragon power — an egg that carried both the might of dragons and the seed of the Celestial Emperor.
When it finally hatched, the child within had pale blue eyes and skin like pearl — more beautiful than anything in the world.
When the child smiled at him for the first time, he knew he would live on for this boy alone.
Three years had passed. Though only three in dragon years, the boy already resembled a ten-year-old human child.
And yet…
The more he saw that familiar resemblance emerging…
The more he felt longing… and fear.
Fear that one day… he would lose everything again.
“Ao Bing… do not grow too quickly,” he whispered. “This world may not be as gentle as my arms.”
He turned toward the doorway.
Something in his heart screamed at him not to leave.
Something was wrong.
A voice urged him to delay — just one night, one hour.
But he could not.
The western seal was fracturing. Ancient wards trembled. Demons were breaking free.
Duty chained him.
The door closed softly.
When the Dragon King stepped through the spatial rift and vanished into mist…
He did not know that this night…
Would be the last time he saw his beloved son still breathing.