Blossoms of Power (百花杀) just served up a shocking farewell: Second Prince Ning (宁) drinks poisoned wine from his own wife, Gu Qingshu (顾青姝), and dies with a smile. Why would a royal who still breathes—whose failed assassination attempt on Bu Shulin (步疏林) brought no death sentence—choose to end it all for her sake? The answer isn’t love. It’s a chessboard where every pawn knows the game is already lost.
The Fallen Prince
After his men failed to capture Bu Shulin, the Second Prince stopped fighting. He drowned himself in wine and music, abandoning all ambition. Why? The Crown Prince had just wiped out every single one of his secret agents—years of careful plotting, gone in one sweep. Without those eyes and ears, he had no power left to challenge anyone.
Worse, he had made mortal enemies. The Crown Prince’s wife, Shen Xihe (沈汐和), is no ordinary consort. She holds real authority, and she never forgets a slight. The Crown Prince himself is frail and may not live to ascend the throne—but Shen Xihe rules in his shadow. If she wants the Second Prince crushed, she has the means.
And there’s the Fifth Prince (五皇子), Prince Xin (信), the other real contender for succession. He is hopelessly devoted to Shen Xihe. One word from her, and he would eagerly destroy the Second Prince just to please her. No allies, no defenses, no future—the Second Prince saw only a dead end ahead.
The Poison’s Hidden Message
When Gu Qingshu handed him that cup, he didn’t hesitate. But he wasn’t blind—he knew exactly what she was doing. A prince raised in the palace learns to read every move. The moment she offered poison, he understood: she was acting on orders from someone far above her.
Who could command a wife to kill her own husband? Not another prince—if she served a rival, they would have used her for information, not murder. Not the emperor, either—the Emperor Youning (祐宁) would have found simpler ways. Only one person held that kind of absolute control: the Dowager Empress.
That revelation unlocked everything. The Dowager had poisoned the Crown Prince years ago—she had been quietly disabling all her grandsons, one by one. The Second Prince now saw the full pattern. She wanted him dead, and if he refused this cup, she would send another method tomorrow. There was no escape. No trial, no appeal—just the slow, patient hand of the grandmother who never loved any of them.
A Final Act of Pride
Still, a prince does not vanish quietly. He chose to drink because it gave him one last thing: dignity. His mind raced through the injustices—why did his father favor a sickly Crown Prince over him? Why could he not even defeat that “weak” brother? But those questions no longer mattered.
He saw something else in Gu Qingshu. She was ruthless, clever, and willing to sacrifice her own husband for a larger plan. That, he respected. She was his wife in name only, but if she succeeded in whatever game the Dowager was playing, part of him would live on through her actions. His “gift” to her was not love—it was a calculated legacy.
And there was revenge. By dying willingly, he ensured the Dowager and the Emperor would keep fighting each other. Their conflict would drain both sides. He could not strike back himself, but his death would add fuel to their fire. Let them tear each other apart—that was his silent victory. The poison burned, but his smile remained. Not because he was at peace, but because he had written his own ending.
So, was it really for her? No. The Second Prince drank to spite the living, to honor a rival he admired, and to wear one last mask of pride. In the bloody garden of Blossoms of Power, even a fallen prince knows how to bloom in his own way.