Liang Ye’s memories after the age of eight began with the mourning sounds of Liang Hua’s death.

Most were chaotic and absurd fragments.

He couldn’t remember how Bian Yunxin had forced the Maple Frost Fall poison down his throat, nor could he clearly recall how he had begged Cui Yuxian. The initial agony when the poison first took effect was so extreme that he had voluntarily buried this memory completely, making even the pain of drinking the White Jade Soup seem bearable.

“From now on, I am your master.” The stern and rigid young man in Taoist robes looked down at him. “If you want to live, kneel and kowtow.”

Beside him, Xiao Chunhe looked at him with pity, “Oh, he was actually saved.”

The pain during his unconsciousness had been too terrible. Liang Ye subconsciously felt that death might be better, but he couldn’t remember anymore. He couldn’t even remember who he was, how old he was, or what he was doing, but his body remembered what it meant to suffer a fate worse than death.

Though trembling with pain, he still knelt down, kowtowed, offered tea, and after a long silence called out, “Master.”

“Good boy, from now on I’ll be your Martial Uncle.” Xiao Chunhe rubbed his head, causing Liang Ye to cry out in pain and curl up on the ground, convulsing and spasming.

Xiao Chunhe hurriedly tried to help him up but was stopped by Yue Jingming.

“Stand up on your own, Liang Ye,” Yue Jingming said coldly.

Liang Ye must be his name.

So he stood up from the ground, tears streaming down his face, silently accepting reality.

His name was Liang Ye, he was eight years old, and he was the emperor of Northern Liang who had just ascended the throne.

When the poison first took effect, he had howled uncontrollably, rolling on the ground in pain, even smashing his head against pillars until he was bleeding profusely. But the pain couldn’t be reduced at all. After drinking the White Jade Soup, he could only lie on the ground panting.

Yue Jingming and Xiao Chunhe stayed in the palace for quite a long time. At night they would make him practice martial arts, make him meditate, teach him to read… teach him how to endure pain.

The little old man called Wen Zong knew nothing about this. During the day, he diligently served as his Imperial Preceptor, beating him until his head was covered in bumps. The ruler could make his hands swell, but he simply couldn’t remember anything, though he felt he could remember things – he could even remember the way to the burial grounds, but he couldn’t recall where the burial grounds were.

At night when he returned and wanted to rest, Yue Jingming would swing his whisk, and he couldn’t even lie on the bed. He could only learn martial arts with tears in his eyes. If he made a mistake, he would be beaten. Although that little pain was just a drizzle to him, it was mainly about humiliation. He gritted his teeth, crying while learning, unconsciously forming conditioned reflexes and abilities. The night he managed to dodge Yue Jingming’s whisk, Xiao Chunhe secretly took him out of the palace and treated him to two meat buns at a roadside stall.

By the time he no longer had poison attacks at any moment and the White Jade Soup could suppress the toxicity, Yue Jingming and Xiao Chunhe cleanly withdrew, only instructing him that if he wanted to live, he must practice martial arts and meditate every night, seemingly not doubting his self-discipline at all.

Liang Ye had forgotten many things, but he remembered clearly about staying alive. In his hazy memories, someone seemed to have told him that he must live on.

But he couldn’t remember clearly.

It didn’t matter anyway.

He squatted on the small path in the Imperial Medical Courtyard, digging at the stones. The imperial physicians in the courtyard all knelt down, shouting, “Long live the Emperor.”

This scene seemed familiar, but there shouldn’t have been so many people. The eunuchs, knowing the little emperor didn’t like this path, had worked together to level the cobblestones on the road.

Liang Ye looked at the bare ground and picked out a physician he found pleasing to the eye. “You, take Zhen’s pulse from now on.”

Li Bu kowtowed to thank him, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for remembering this humble servant!”

“Who are you?” Liang Ye tilted his head in confusion.

Due to the torture of pain, Liang Ye’s temper began to worsen. Occasionally when a eunuch or palace maid angered him, he would rage and throw things. Afterward, he would never see that person again, and rumors of the new emperor’s cruelty began to spread throughout the court.

Liang Ye bit the wound on his hand and glared sinisterly at Li Bu, asking him, “Is Zhen cruel?”

“Your Majesty has a kind nature.” Li Bu boldly took his hand away from his mouth and earnestly advised him, “Your Majesty, biting wounds doesn’t stop the pain.”

“Li Bu, Zhen’s head hurts too much.” Liang Ye’s hand was held by him as he tilted his head to look. “If it’s cut off, it won’t hurt anymore. Help Zhen cut it off.”

Li Bu was so frightened that he immediately knelt on the ground and repeatedly kowtowed.

When he came to check Liang Ye’s pulse the next time, he would hear an increasingly irritated voice asking, “Who are you?”

“Your Majesty, this humble servant is Li Bu, a physician from the Imperial Medical Courtyard,” Li Bu would repeat patiently.

Wen Zong was not as patient and good-tempered as him. He knew nothing about Liang Ye’s poison and thought the young emperor was just being childish and mischievous. Every time they had class, it would be chaotic. He couldn’t learn many proper things, and Wen Zong would sigh in frustration. When Cui Yuxian heard of this, she would happily add two more flowers to her arrangement.

Bian Yunxin had accidentally become the Empress Dowager and began to fear Liang Ye’s increasingly violent temper. After witnessing Liang Ye use a sword to kill the head eunuch and head palace maid in her palace, she became even more fearful.

Liang Ye had long forgotten when he first killed someone, but whenever he saw blood, he always felt a sense of familiarity. When killing, he felt no pleasure, and the fragmented, unclear memories could drive one mad.

They said his name was Liang Ye, so he was Liang Ye. They said he was the emperor, so he was the emperor. They said he was bloodthirsty and violent, so why couldn’t he be bloodthirsty and violent?

At the age of ten, he would occasionally go to the burial grounds on a whim to sleep. He chose a pleasing grave pit, and just as he fell asleep, a small bundle hit him in the face. When he got up in annoyance, he saw an ugly little child crying heartbreakingly. Just as he was about to grab the child, he got a handful of urine.

He found a strip of cloth and hung the child on a tree branch to swing, irritably patting his urine-soaked robe. With a gloomy expression, he poked at the branch for a while before finally carrying the child on his back. Taking advantage of the night, he climbed into Tan Yishuang’s palace chamber, covered in the smell of corpses and urine.

Tan Yishuang often sent him pastries to eat. Though too sweet, it didn’t prevent him from thinking Tan Yishuang was a good person.

Tan Yishuang was nearly scared half to death by him. In the middle of the night, she arranged for palace maids and eunuchs to bring water for him to wash, and she also found Li Bu to save the baby.

“Zhen doesn’t plan to raise him. Zhen is only seven and a half,” Liang Ye was annoyed by the constantly crying child.

“Your Majesty,” Tan Yishuang looked at him tearfully, “You are already ten years old.”

“Oh.” Liang Ye frowned, considering the difference between seven and a half and ten years old. Feeling that ten was quite grown up, he reluctantly said, “Then Zhen will raise him from now on.”

After all, it was something he had brought back, and he didn’t want to trouble others.

Days passed in a blur. Yue Jingming and Xiao Chunhe would occasionally come a few times a year to guide his martial arts, each time patiently reintroducing themselves to him. Wen Zong, the little old man, finally discovered that his emperor wasn’t quite right in the head and resorted to any means to force him to remember who he was through daily lessons. Li Bu checked his pulse once a month, reminding him for the umpteenth time not to bite his wounds, diligently applying scar-removing ointment for him. Bian Yunxin would occasionally become bold enough to scold him, only to be frightened into hiding in her palace. Cui Yuxian continued to force-feed him White Jade Soup every month without fail, the malice in her eyes unconcealed. The court officials at morning court became increasingly perfunctory…

Every day, Liang Ye would go to Kangning Palace to see the child he was “raising,” and occasionally hear stories about his real “Empress Mother” from Tan Yishuang’s lips. This became the only bit of joy in his dull and boring life.

When Chong Heng was eight years old, he clamored to learn martial arts. The eighteen-year-old Liang Ye, whose mind was finally working somewhat better, lazily lay on a tree, teasing the child with a foxtail grass. “Learn what? It’ll hurt like hell.”

“I want to learn!” Chong Heng, spoiled by him and Tan Yishuang, knew no limits. “Brother! Brother! I want to learn martial arts! I want to become a great hero! Roam the world!”

These words sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard them before. He grabbed the child by the collar and hung him on a high tree branch, laughing, “When you grow this tall, I’ll teach you.”

Chong Heng flailed about, crying from frustration.

After Chong Heng turned five, Liang Ye took him out of Kangning Palace to keep by his side. Though his mind wasn’t working well, he knew what kind of place the harem was. The child he was raising had to survive.

Xiao Chunhe wanted to teach Chong Heng martial arts, but Liang Ye firmly refused. He still remembered how much he had suffered learning martial arts. His master and martial uncle were both ruthless, so after careful consideration, he decided to teach Chong Heng himself.

Probably because he couldn’t bear to see Chong Heng suffer, his teaching was halfhearted. More than ten years later, Chong Heng couldn’t even dodge a single knife strike from Tan Yishuang.

The poison on the dagger worked too quickly. He didn’t even have time to say a word to the little one he had raised, only able to hold his cold, stiff body.

Like corpse pieces in the burial grounds on an icy, snowy day.

In his fury, he killed everyone in Kangning Palace and even took the opportunity to eliminate many enemies, but he couldn’t make Chong Heng open his eyes again and call him brother.

He began to regret why he had returned after deciding to leave, fighting and struggling with these inhuman, ghostly beings. But whenever he stepped out of the capital and saw the devastation and suffering of the people everywhere, he couldn’t take another step forward.

Chong Heng died in Kangning Palace.

Wen Zong died on New Year’s Eve.

Eastern Chen, Southern Zhao, and Loufan joined forces to attack Liang, and war broke out throughout the Liang territory.

Liang Huan died of serious illness on the way out of the palace amid his battle with Cui Yuxian.

Baili Cheng’an was exposed as a woman by Qi Ming, forced to resign and retire, and was assassinated on the way back to her hometown.

The imperial examinations were not held for three years, and the scholars complained loudly, many flowing to his enemies.

Liang Ye personally led the army to war, but halfway through, he heard news of a palace coup in Bian Cang. Court officials were killed. He returned to the city alone with his troops, and all the civil and military officials trapped in the discussion hall did not survive.

Liang Ye could barely take care of himself and was ambushed by the suddenly appearing Wen Heshen in the Suixue Garden. That same day, the three countries’ allied forces crossed the He River, the capital fell, and the Liang Dynasty collapsed.

Liang Ye stared with wide eyes as blood dripped from his bones. In the cold rain mixed with the strong fragrance of begonia, he slowly and stiffly trembled his eyelashes in a patch of bloody shade, and suddenly laughed.

The neighing horses galloped forward, trampling the ground full of broken begonia flowers. The misty rain was stained red by splashing blood mist.

This careless yet regrettable life.