Wang Dian’s hand firmly gripped the back of Liang Ye’s neck. The resentment in his eyes gradually gave way to fury, his grip unconsciously tightening as if he wanted to snap his neck. “Speak.”
Liang Ye licked his dry lips, tilted his head and affectionately nuzzled against his tense muscular forearm, putting on an innocent and aggrieved expression. “What cervical bone?”
“I should have killed you, you fool, the moment I returned.” Wang Dian said with a dark expression. “You had a perfectly good life as emperor, yet you insisted on playing the lovesick fool. What, did you think I’d be happy to see you come after me?”
Liang Ye nodded vigorously, “Happy. You couldn’t stand being apart from Zhen for even half a day.”
“…You stubborn idiot.” Wang Dian suppressed his breathing, his anger unabated, “I could go once and I could go a second time. I didn’t go through all this trouble just for you to follow my old path.”
Liang Ye said smugly. “Zhen isn’t as useless as you. Zhen is still alive.”
Wang Dian’s breathing suddenly tightened. He grabbed his collar and pressed him down, glaring at him with a sinister smile, “Then why don’t you f*cking try to leave this place alive.”
Wang Dian’s anger had been building since he smelled the begonia fragrance on Liang Ye’s neck. He walked the edge between fury and rationality every day. When Liang Ye was constantly under his watch, he could barely endure it, but after Liang Ye left him for just one morning, the rationality he had painstakingly built crumbled completely.
He had returned with all his might not to make Liang Ye experience the same bone-deep pain. He was more jealous of Liang Ye than anyone, yet also wished for his well-being more than anyone else.
He wanted Liang Ye whole and unharmed.
His Liang Ye deserved the best in the world.
Not to destroy his foundation for the sake of love—Wang Dian gripped his neck and kissed him roughly. The buttons of his shirt burst open, scattering across the floor, clattering against the mirror and bouncing back, hitting the cold metal chains.
Liang Ye looked down at the metal ring locked around his ankle, which was hidden under black trousers. The long chain extended along the baseboard of the mirror into the darkness. He excitedly wiggled his ankle and cheerfully said, “Want one on the neck too—mmph!”
He was pinned to the cold floor by Wang Dian, who looked at him expressionlessly with lowered eyes. A surgical scalpel glinted coldly in the light between his fingers. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll cut open your neck to see if it’s still there.”
Liang Ye hesitated for two seconds, then tilted his head to expose his neck. “Then be gentle.”
The sharp scalpel brushed past his fragile neck and stabbed violently into the floor. The wooden floor cracked into a spider-web pattern. Wang Dian stared at him and slowly released his hand.
Liang Ye turned his head, saw his reddened eyes, and raised his hand to touch his face, but Wang Dian grabbed his wrist with one hand and pinned it above his head.
“I might as well f*ck you to death instead.”
Although Wang Dian liked to talk dirty, he was usually gentle and preferred to torment people methodically. Liang Ye had long grown accustomed to his tenderness and consideration. Being treated so roughly all of a sudden, he nearly lost control of his voice.
He’s truly angry… Liang Ye thought intermittently between gasps and waves of spreading pleasure. The metal chains clinked against the mirror with a crisp sound. He raised his eyelashes, wet with sweat, and stared blankly at the harsh white light in the basement.
The white light gradually blurred into a white sun through his tears, hanging high in the square sky above the palace.
Northern Liang, 19th year of Ding’an, late spring. The capital.
The sixteenth day after the death of the Prince of Danyang.
“What did you say?” Liang Ye looked coldly at the trembling Yun Fu.
“Your Majesty…” Yun Fu knelt on the ground, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. “When the Prince of Danyang first arrived, he indeed had some strange clothing. At that time, the Grand Empress Dowager ordered it changed, and we servants properly stored it in the warehouse. No one touched it… But, but when we checked the warehouse a few days ago, that outfit was gone.”
Liang Ye had seen that outfit. When he first returned to the palace, he was very curious about Wang Dian’s identity. That strangely made outfit seemed to further confirm his mysterious origins, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it. Later, Wang Dian never mentioned it, so he forgot about it.
It was gone.
Disappeared without reason or trace… because the person who wore it had also disappeared.
“Zhen understands.” Liang Ye dismissed the kneeling palace servants and looked at the familiar yet empty chamber, suddenly feeling lost.
Wang Dian had taken nothing and left nothing behind.
The seventeenth day after the death of the Prince of Danyang.
The water in the lotus pond still carried a chill, bone-piercingly cold. The sound of clothes breaking through the water flow was particularly clear in the silence.
“Master, your wounds…” Chong Heng stood anxiously on the shore, looking at the cold-faced Liang Ye in the pond. He wanted to go down to help but didn’t dare, and could only urge from the bank, “The bottom of this pond is all mud, and it’s been a day and a night already, and those things are broken… Brother!”
Liang Ye ignored him, feeling around for those fragments at the bottom of the pond.
A small mud-covered twig, but he wasn’t sure if it belonged to Wang Dian.
A smooth little stone, this one definitely was his.
…A copper coin, fortunately only one night had passed, the string was still there.
A ginkgo leaf… he had gripped it too hard and crushed it.
A handkerchief.
An anklet with small gold leaves.
A jade pendant with red tassels…
Chong Heng finally couldn’t bear to watch anymore and jumped into the pond to search with him. The high sun changed to the moon, and they still hadn’t found everything.
Liang Ye stumbled in the pond, allowing the water to flow over his mouth and nose, then was pulled to the shore by Chong Heng.
The wounds that had been soaked in dirty muddy water all day stung with pain. He propped himself up on his arm, leaning against the jade-carved railing, and opened his palm to reveal a mass of letters, long since ruined by the water.
Many letters, most written by him to Wang Dian. When Wang Dian occasionally felt inspired, he would carefully imitate the writing beside it, copying it almost identically, except he habitually left a small ink dot in the margin.
‘…This is a period.’ When he asked, Wang Dian would patiently explain, as if sharing a small secret only the two of them knew. ‘A period means the end.’
‘Liang Ziyu, your handwriting is the only decent thing about you.’
‘…The letter I threw into Yunshui? Curious, aren’t you? I refuse to tell you.’
‘Some things, once gone, are gone forever. I couldn’t recite it exactly the same even if I tried to repeat it for you…’
‘Not everything in the world can go your way, not even if you’re the emperor.’
Liang Ye sat on the ground, soaking wet, clutching a mass of sodden paper. His wounds hurt so much he could barely breathe.
“Chong Heng,” he turned to look at the young man beside him, “I don’t want to be emperor anymore.”
Chong Heng’s eyes suddenly reddened, and he sniffed hard. “Brother, do whatever you want, I’ll always follow you.”
Liang Ye, disheveled and covered in mud, smiled brightly at him. “I don’t want you, I want Wang Dian.”
Chong Heng looked at him helplessly.
Liang Ye raised his hand and placed it on his head, smearing mud all over his hair. “Don’t learn from Liang Huan, always bursting into tears.”
Chong Heng wiped his eyes vigorously. “I must follow Master.”
“I won’t be your master anymore.” Liang Ye listlessly looked at the dark, tall palace walls around him and the angular sky carved out by the palace buildings above his head. He said wearily, “When everything is over, leave the palace and help me and Wang Dian see the sky beyond Great Liang.”
19th year of Ding’an, midsummer.
Liang Ye patted the dirt off his hands and turned to look at Chong Heng who was pushing a coffin. “Nestled in the mountains by the water, even Master would say this place has good feng shui.”
Chong Heng said breathlessly, “Master, this is the largest coffin the shopkeeper could make, they don’t have the big one you wanted.”
Liang Ye patted the black coffin with some disdain. “This will do.”
Chong Heng looked at him, wanting to speak but hesitating.
“The imperial tomb is too noisy, neither Zhen nor Wang Dian would like it.” Liang Ye tossed the shovel, sticking it straight into the muddy ground, watching as the large coffin settled at the bottom of the pit. He put his hands on his hips and said contentedly, “It’s big enough for Zhen and Wang Dian to live in together.”
Chong Heng’s eyes reddened again, quite ungracefully.
Liang Ye threw two tattered dragon robes into the coffin and frowned. “I wonder if they’ll rot faster after being soaked in water.”
“They probably will,” Chong Heng said, squatting with him at the edge of the pit.
Liang Ye was silent for a long time, then threw all the odds and ends he had found in the lotus pond into the coffin, along with his soft sword and favorite weapons. Two small turtles obediently lay on the dragon robes, next to two copper coins and two identical jade pendants, their bright red tassels particularly beautiful in the sunlight.
“Let them watch over the things.” Liang Ye was marginally satisfied. He looked down at the two gold rings in his hand, squeezed them, and they were stained with the mud from his hands.
“These are dirty, and Wang Dian likes cleanliness.” He clutched the rings in his palm and turned to ask Chong Heng, “Maybe I should keep them? To avoid Wang Dian arguing with Zhen if he finds out.”
“Good idea.” Chong Heng stood up to get the shovel, avoiding looking at him.
Liang Ye happily put the two rings away.
Yellow paper fluttered everywhere as harsh sunlight poured down on a lonely grave mound with no tombstone.
Liang Ye sat cross-legged in front of the grave, earnestly burning paper offerings. Beside him were piles of yellow paper and sacrificial items. “Zhen will burn some now to save up. Wang Dian is spoiled and difficult to look after.”
A wild grave in the mountains, with ceremonial burial of clothes and no bodies—peaceful enough.
19th year of Ding’an, autumn.
On the hunting grounds, young men and women were enthusiastic, calling to friends, officials brought their families, creating a lively atmosphere with constant cheers and praise.
Liang Ye rested his chin on his hand with little interest and said to Cui Qi, “This autumn hunt is really meaningless.”
Cui Qi, sitting in his wheelchair, nodded coldly, expressing his deep agreement.
19th year of Ding’an, winter.
Shizai Mountain.
While funeral music for the emperor’s death echoed throughout the capital, the emperor himself was kneeling excitedly before the Sanqing Hall.
“Master, Martial Uncle!” Liang Ye ignored the attempts of Xiang Meng to dissuade him. “I know you’re here.”
No one answered.
Liang Ye didn’t mind at all. He took out a letter from his sleeve and said cheerfully, “Martial Uncle left me a letter saying I could come to the Taiji Temple if I faced great difficulties. Now that I’m having my funeral, doesn’t that count as facing a great calamity?”
Those words angered Yue Jingming so much that he materialized, drawing his sword to kill this unfilial disciple. Xiao Chunhe and Xiang Meng rushed to stop him, creating chaos in the great hall.
Having been beaten half to death with a horsetail whisk, Liang Ye knelt on a cushion, grimacing as he rubbed his arms, smiling at Yue Jingming before him.
Yue Jingming coldly asked him, “Liang Ye, do you know what you’re doing?”
“I know.” Liang Ye didn’t dare joke anymore. He straightened up, the thick bandage on his neck seeping with fresh blood. Unable to bow his head, he could only lower his eyes.
Yue Jingming was about to strike again, but Xiao Chunhe beside him quickly grabbed his horsetail whisk, giving Liang Ye a look of exasperation. “Enough, this ancestor is almost at his last breath, hurry and save him.”
“You chose the mortal path to become emperor.” Rare anger appeared in Yue Jingming’s eyes. “Nine lifetimes of merit and trials, with the tenth life as a human emperor to achieve immortality. Do you know how many cultivators struggle for hundreds of years just to barely cross the threshold, how many great opportunities have fallen upon you?”
Liang Ye looked up. “I don’t want any of this.”
Yue Jingming closed his eyes briefly. “Failed to pass two calamities in your final life. Liang Ye, do you understand the consequences?”
“I took it out myself, while it was still fresh.” Liang Ye raised his arm and opened his palm, revealing a blood-covered cervical vertebra. It looked bloody and tragic. The thick bandage on his neck was completely soaked through, his face devoid of color, yet he wore an excited and obsessive smile. “I want to find Wang Dian.”
“Wang Dian is no longer in this realm.” Xiao Chunhe looked at the bone with pity. “Liang Ye, do you truly understand what you’re doing?! This immortal bone could take you directly to the immortal path!”
“Never seen it, don’t believe it.” Liang Ye grinned. “I only want Wang Dian.”
Yue Jingming opened his eyes and looked at him with regret. “Are you certain?”
Liang Ye tossed the cervical bone in his hand. “Even if I’m not, this thing can’t be put back now.”
Yue Jingming looked at him as if he wanted to strike down this sinner with one sword. He said coldly, “At your core, you are one person. That he could remain in this realm for so long already defies heaven’s will. Now that you’ve passed through the death calamity and your fate has turned, even in Wang Dian’s world, he no longer exists.”
The smile on Liang Ye’s face suddenly froze, the blood on his neck seeping deeper. “Then I’ll go back to save him.”
Yue Jingming was silent for a moment. “You are one person. To forcibly coexist, you will pay a price.”
Liang Ye’s eyes immediately brightened.
“From now on, with the immortal bone gone, he will have no past life, and you will have no future life.” Yue Jingming gazed at him without joy or sorrow. “Only a few decades remain in the mortal realm.”
Liang Ye smiled brilliantly. “That’s perfect.”
