The sound of my ancestors’ angry screams jolted me awake with terror, deepening the ache in my heart, reminding me of the agony of my fate.
When the opportunity, which I most dreaded, arrived, which one must I sacrifice?
I swallowed all the rage and shame as I begged for my life, denying my own blood. For my duty, my fate, as the last bloodline of my family, is to avenge their unjust deaths. For revenge is the sole purpose I breathe and live for.
Perhaps my fate was sealed from the start, but still, I curse. Why now? If only time would be on my side, how much longer might I have had with you? To fight by your side, have you call me with such tenderness that makes my heart ache, to feel your warm gaze upon me just one last time.
The familiar sight of you punched a hole in my lungs. The thoughts of you getting hurt felt as if it were my own body bleeding, but what if it was me that caused you suffering? Would it hurt you a thousand, a million times more? How would I have the strength to face you then?
Why must you, my lord, my love, be the son of the devil itself? You, the one person I held dearest in all the world. You, who shine so brightly that the sun doesn’t even dare to compare.
The gnawing pain inside of me keeps haunting. To break someone so perfect and so beautiful feels like a sin I wouldn’t be able to repent for. But forgive me, my lord, heaven itself has decided our fate, and you, like everything I ever yearn in life, are beyond my reach.
And yet, as I held your pained face and drown in your blood, why does it feel like I have destroyed nothing but my own world?
— a letter from Ouyang to Esen, from “She Who Became the Sun” by Shelley Parker-Chan.
