第6章 永无止尽的试探 寒煜公身上的铠甲还没脱下，只是将头盔夹在腋下，自己一个人独自的走进皇帝的房间之 内，而周边的人也识趣的安静离开，将房间交给了唯一在世的三皇子． 二皇子在三年前因为在天灾洪水中指挥救灾，感染了严重肺炎，最终在操劳中病逝，外人 不知道只是以为二皇子勤政爱民，为了帝国皇室的表率而奋力工作，最後不幸过世． 然而寒煜公很清楚，在二皇子做出这种不要命行为的背後，是皇帝盯着他的那双眼睛，逼 着二皇子不得不卖命，只为了避免父皇的猜忌，所以那怕已经是重病在身，也要奋力的在 第一线不肯退下，可以说二皇子的死，是在无形的压力之下被逼死的． 二皇子死的时候据说他的遗言是＂够了＂． 就这简单的两个字，却包含着多少的悲愤与无奈． 而在一年之後，大皇子被怀疑勾结藩王，被皇帝给盯上，皇室的规定身为下任的皇帝候选 人，是禁止与六个具备选举权藩王交往密切的，这是为了避免下任皇帝候选人提前结交藩 王拉帮结派． 如果出现了这样的情况，是可能会被认定具备谋逆之心，也因为这样的制度，让皇子们会 刻意远离这六位藩王，但是避免不了有心人的嫁祸与陷害． 有一位在朝廷之上被大皇子训斥过的佞臣，因为惧怕若是之後大皇子继位，自己就没活路 ，所以就炮制了大皇子结交藩王的信件． 然後不经意的让皇帝的爪牙取得，当皇帝将信件甩在大皇子的面前，大皇子都毫不知情， 然而不知道为何自己的火漆印会在信封上，大皇子想要辩解都无力，所以只好称病躲在家 中思过，最後演变成了真正的郁结，病倒之後就再也没起来． 现在的皇室，只剩下两个人有资格继承皇帝之位，就是身为三皇子的寒煜公，以及大皇子 的独子，目前八岁的皇太孙北斗乾． 寒煜公很清楚大哥二哥都是被父皇逼死的，而自己就是下一个，为何呢？因为大皇子死之 前留下了一封秘信给他，将一个天大的机密告诉了寒煜公，要他多注意． 北斗乾的亲生父亲，就是现在的皇帝北斗晃，大皇子与太子妃苏婉的关系极差，而北斗乾 实际上是公公与大媳妇扒灰的产物，真的要论起来是寒煜公的四弟而不是侄子． 所以对於北斗晃而言，把前面的三个皇子弄死，换上自己喜欢的小儿子，一点问题都没有 ，甚至可以说前面两个皇子的死，就是北斗晃有意造成的结果，否则以北斗晃的聪明，怎 可能会被这样粗糙的手法欺骗，会去相信大皇子勾结藩王？ 在所有人都离开房间之後，寒煜公转身关上了背後的红木门，将门牢牢地锁死，确保没有 人会进来打扰他与父皇最後的会面． 寒煜公感觉到自己的呼吸与内心的悸动越来越难控制，在他的内心深处，有一种声音，如 同恶魔低语呢喃着回荡在他的心中． 「得救了，得救了．从今以後，自己不必再害怕父亲的阴影……」 他屏得……呼吸，全神贯注地侧耳倾听，心脏在胸腔中擂鼓般狂跳起来. 然而，他没听到永恒的宁静，却得到了真正恶魔的回应． 「煜……儿……」 那声音！乾涩、嘶哑，如同濒死者喉咙深处挤出的最後几个音节，却又带着一种令人毛骨 悚然的清晰，精准地钻入了他的耳膜！ 一股冰寒彻骨的激流瞬间从尾椎骨直冲天灵盖，将他刚刚攫取的、脆弱不堪的片刻安宁彻 底击碎！理性，如同被重锤猛烈敲击的精致琉璃，在他脑海中轰然粉碎，飞溅的碎片是纯 粹的恐惧、是难以置信的惊骇、更是被愚弄後翻涌而上的、滔天的憎恶！ 他僵硬地、仿佛用尽了毕生力气般，一寸一寸地转动着几乎石化的脖颈．视线，被迫再度 投向了那张象徵着无上权力与无尽梦魇的床榻—— 那双，本应永远沉入黑暗的眼睛，此刻正费力地半睁着！浑浊不堪的眼珠，在昏暗的光线 下反射着一点病态的、令人作呕的微光，带着一种洞悉一切、仿佛早已看穿他内心所有隐 秘想法的戏谑，死死地，盯着他！ 「父……父皇……？！」 声音不受控制地颤抖、破碎，完全不成调．寒煜公甚至想不起来，哪怕是在冷井隘口面对 数倍於己、居高临下的敌军，兵临城下之际，他的声音何曾有过如此狼狈不堪、近乎哀鸣 的时刻？！ 然而，疑问出口的瞬间，答案早已如最毒的蛇液般，在他心中迅速蔓延、扩散开来． 又一次！又一次！还来！ 这该死的、永无止境的试探！ 用自己死讯作为诱饵，布下这弥天大谎，就是为了将他，将这帝国最後一个尚存的皇子之 心，紧紧捏在掌中肆意玩弄！ 就是为了冷眼旁观，看他是否会流露出哪怕一丝一毫的“不该有的”喜悦；就是为了精确 计算，他是否会将帝国安危、将前线战事置於脑後，不顾一切地“立刻”奔回这病榻之前 ！ 这冰冷的算计，这视人命与情感如草芥的病态游戏！ 一股强烈的、令人作呕的恶心感直冲喉咙，胃部剧烈地抽搐着．他几乎要控制不住地干呕 出来，每一寸肌肤都因为极致的嫌恶而爬满了栗粒般的鸡皮疙瘩． 「呵……如果你刚才……」 老皇帝的声音嘶哑如同破旧的风箱，每一个字都像是淬了剧毒的冰锥，狠狠凿入寒煜公的 血管，冻结他全身的血液． 「…流露出半分……高兴的样子……」 「……你的眼睛，现在大概……已经什麽都看不到了．」 「你的余生，或许会在哪个偏僻、阴冷的寺院里……对着墙壁忏悔度过吧！」 「哼……哼哼……你的‘孝心’，暂且救了你．」 「这一次……你算是勉强过关了．不过……下一次……就未必了……」 「现在嘛……朕还算满意……」 １－６完 鬼火会因为人的移动而导致空气流动，会自然地聚积在周围，看起来真的非常恐怖，而这 样多的鬼火，要有多少的冤魂葬身在此才能产生？ Chapter 6: The Endless Test Duke Aureus had not even removed his armor. Helmet tucked beneath his arm， he walked alone into the Emperor’s chamber. The attendants and courtiers， sensing the gravity of the moment， quietly retreated， leaving the room to the last surviving prince. The Second Prince had died three years prior— felled by a lung infection after directing disaster relief during a massive flood. To the public， he had died a model prince: diligent， compassionate， a beloved symbol of Imperial virtue. But Aureus knew the truth. Behind his brother’s reckless struggle against the floodwaters— behind that desperate refusal to rest even as illness consumed him— was the Emperor’s gaze. That cold， unblinking stare that permitted no weakness. No retreat. No thought of self-preservation. The Second Prince had not died from disease. He had been driven to death. His last words were said to be just two syllables: “Enough.” Two soft syllables carrying a lifetime of suffocated rage. A year later， the First Prince fell. Accused of forbidden contact with the six Elector-Kings— a crime that， under Imperial law， implied treason. No prince was allowed to forge ties with the Electors. It prevented factionalism and premature power struggles. But this rule made framing a prince all too easy. A petty official whom the First Prince had once rebuked forged a letter— imprinted with the Prince’s own wax seal— and fed it to the Emperor’s agents. When confronted， the Prince had been truly ignorant of the matter— yet powerless to explain why his seal appeared on the envelope. He withdrew to his residence in shame， fell ill from grief and fear， and never rose again. Now， in the Polaris royal line， only two remained with legitimate claim to the throne: Aureus—Third Prince. And the First Prince’s eight-year-old son， the Crown Grandson， Polaris Qian. But Aureus knew what the world did not: Before dying， the First Prince had sent him a secret letter— revealing a truth monstrous enough to chill the blood. Polaris Qian’s true father… was not the First Prince. He was the Emperor himself. A child born of the Emperor and his own daughter-in-law. Aureus’ supposed nephew was， in truth， his younger brother. If the Emperor could dispose of three princes to install his favored child， what would stop him from forcing Aureus into the grave as well? When the last attendant departed， Aureus turned， closed the heavy redwood door， and locked it— ensuring that no one else could intrude upon this final confrontation. His breath grew uneven. His heartbeat thrashed against his ribs. Something cold and primal uncoiled within him— a voice， soft as rot， whispering in the marrow of his bones: “You’re saved. You’re finally saved. The shadow is gone. You don’t have to fear him anymore…” He held his breath— listened— waited for silence. But instead of the stillness of death， he received the reply of a demon. “…Yu… er…” The sound— dry， rasping， pulled from the depths of a dying throat— slithered into his ear with unbearable clarity. A jolt of cold terror shot up his spine， exploding in his skull like shattering glass. His rational mind cracked. Fear flooded through the fissures. Slowly— as though turning his neck were the weight of the entire Empire— Aureus forced himself to face the bed. Those eyes， those murky， malignant eyes that should have been sealed forever in death， were half-open— staring at him. Mocking him. Seeing straight through him. Reading every thought he had dared to feel. “F… Father…?” His voice broke. It trembled like a hunted animal’s whimper. Not even on the battlefield— not when facing an enemy perched above him on the cliffs— had his voice ever sounded so fragile， so stripped of dignity. And yet， the instant he spoke， the truth crashed into him like venom. Again. Again this hell. Again this endless test. The Emperor had feigned death— spread false news— all to lure him back. To watch his reaction. To see if he would reveal even the faintest flicker of joy. To calculate whether loyalty or ambition lay hidden in his heart. This was not governance. This was sadism refined into art. A wave of nausea surged upward. His stomach twisted violently. His skin crawled with revulsion. The Emperor’s lips cracked open. A voice sharper than frost seeped out: “Heh… if you had shown… even half a smile…” “Your eyes… would no longer be able to see anything.” “Your remaining years… would likely be spent… in some cold， forgotten monastery… repenting before a wall.” “Hmph… Your‘filial piety’… has spared you—for now.” “This time… you pass. Barely.” “But the next time…” He coughed， a sound like breaking reeds. “…not so certain.” “For the moment… I am satisfied.” 1–6 End Ghostfire gathers around the living—drawn by breath and body heat. For so many lights to burn， how many resentful souls must have perished here? --

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