Oldchina Stories

It is the love story of the immortal emperor and a talented painter.

Just a cat and a dragon. what else can go wrong? Started: 09/01/2021 Ended: DD/MM/YYYY

Dark magic, feared in many people's eyes. I myself kinda fear, but what made me stop hesitating using is staying alive. Hunted by everyone, an outsider chased to the end of the world. That is what I am and I will be forever, what I build up for myself, it could be destroyed tomorrow, not knowing how long I am going survive. What comes to my mind is being weak, not enough spiritual power, Qi, to cultivate. It all caused me to end up like this, running away to survive, Mei Zhirou.

"𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖙𝖞." In a dynasty painted in ink and snowfall, where palace roofs glimmered like cold jade, fate took the most peculiar shape. Felix-once a quiet, sharp-tongued scholar whose beauty was likened to spring rain-awoke not in silks, but in feathers. A tiny pale-yellow chicken, dazed and indignant, breathing shallow chirps into an indifferent world. He should have been caged, butchered, or forgotten. Yet destiny carried him instead to the Fifth Prince-Hyunjin. Mute since childhood and feared for his sickness of the lungs, Hyunjin moved like a ghost through his own palace, ink-stained fingertips tracing the shapes of words he could never speak. Courtiers bowed with trembling courtesy, but their whispers dripped venom: Broken. Cursed. Futile. And so a strange companionship bloomed in stolen quiet. A prince who could not speak and a boy who could not be human. Hyunjin warmed Felix under his sleeve during morning court, letting the tiny creature peek through ivory folds. Felix scolded him in furious chirps, feathers puffed like tiny fireworks as if to defend the honor of a world only he remembered. No words were exchanged, yet entire conversations unfolded in gazes-Hyunjin's winter-soft and unreadable, Felix's wild and incandescent. Soon the palace servants began to talk. Of the Fifth Prince's "spirit fowl," of omens and charms, of curses turning into blessings. Of a mute tyrant-to-be who commanded without sound. But only the heavens knew the truth: The prince was not cruel, merely lonely. And the chicken was not livestock, merely trapped. A fate sealed by feather and silence, absurd yet tender. A story unwinding between tea steam, moonlight, and the hush of palace corridors-where even the smallest creature might change an empire, and even the coldest heart might soften