“You come to this bustling world of people, with birth, aging, sickness, death, greed, anger, ignorance, and resentment. You are stained and tainted with each touch, rolling through blood and frost. Your entire body is filled with unbreakable emotions and desires, surrounded inside and out by inextinguishable obsessions and demonic obstacles—this is the mortal world.”

“Three thousand paths in the mortal world, yet you chose the most bitter one.”

A begonia flower was picked up from the rain, inserted into the back of a neck that had a piece of bone violently dug out. The slender, soft root system extended, entangling the shattered flesh and bone fragments.

The flower served as a needle, the roots as thread, stitching together a Liang Ye filled with overwhelming resentment.

Arriving a step too late, Yue Jingming’s expression was cold and stern. Xiao Chunhe felt reluctant in his heart. Xiang Meng searched through the scattered bones in the rain, explaining the cause to him as if talking to herself.

“The Ancestral Master and Martial Uncle calculated the deadly calamity would come ten days later… they thought Xun Yao was someone Wen Heshen had found, and they were delayed with their hands and feet entangled, arriving just one moment too late…” Xiang Meng gathered the bones, her fingertips stained red that even the downpour couldn’t wash clean. With deep regret and pity, anger and unwillingness, she persuaded, “Junior Martial Uncle, do not bear grudges.”

Do not bear grudges, Junior Martial Uncle.

Liang Ye’s crimson eyes moved stiffly, his shattered throat emitting hoarse and sharp screeching sounds. He angrily and frantically tore at the begonia roots spreading and entangling within his body, as pieces of his soul and flesh fell away.

Yue Jingming turned to leave, but Xiao Chunhe quickly stopped him, “Where are you going!?”

“To kill Wen Heshen.” The usually cold and rigid person had rarely stirred with emotion.

Between immortal and demon, there was only a difference of one thought.

Liang Ye had thought that if his master had told him at that time that this was his fate, even if he resented it and was unwilling, he would have bowed his head and accepted it. It was his lack of skill, it was his self-inflicted fate, he deserved to die so pathetically.

But Yue Jingming did not.

Yue Jingming stood in the rain, his resentment seeming no less than Liang Ye’s. “His life should have…”

Should have.

“Fate is not predetermined, Yue Jingming, don’t be delusional,” Xiao Chunhe tried to stop him. “If you go now, you’ll just waste your life for nothing.”

In the end, Xiao Chunhe could not stop Yue Jingming.

After death, Liang Ye finally learned the whole story, which sounded exactly like some clichéd, awkward tale from a storyteller’s mouth, quite laughable to hear.

So laughable that even after taking revenge by any means necessary, the resentment throughout his body still did not disperse over the years. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get rid of the flower roots that stitched his soul together. The begonia on his neck constantly reminded him of what he had lost and could never get back.

He was not reconciled.

How could he convince himself to willingly close his eyes?

So he sprinkled the antidote for Maple Frost Fall throughout the pool, soaking his soul in the antidote year after year, attempting to find peace. But those crimson eyes remained wide open, and even when he soaked until the antidote made the begonia on his neck bloom, the pain from the poison remained like a disease in his bone, not resolving in the slightest.

He couldn’t solve the Maple Frost Fall poison, nor could he forgive himself.

He crawled out of the pool, dragging his fragmentary soul and bones, and walked back to the mortal world with his mangled flesh, seeking someone to guide him to salvation.

Unfortunately, he met with failure time and again.

In life, he had been a fierce emperor feared by all; in death, he became an existence more terrifying than vengeful ghosts, avoided by both the living and the dead.

Liang Ye eventually became a wandering, homeless lost soul.

The only thing that accompanied him was the begonia flower on his neck, which had bloomed from being soaked in the Maple Frost Fall antidote. Unfortunately, he did not like it.

He carried that begonia flower, wandering aimlessly to another world. After being refreshed for a while, he quickly grew bored.

“Hopeless! No one in the world can save you!” A dying person still dared to defy him.

Liang Ye was hit in a painful spot, his bloody and mangled features instantly distorted. With a ferocious gaze, he crushed the other person and angrily retorted, “Zhen doesn’t need others to save Zhen! Zhen will save himself!”

After speaking, he froze, suddenly struck by a brilliant idea, and couldn’t help turning in excitement.

Later, he saw fifteen-year-old Liang Ye, who was still alive.

After many years, someone finally fearlessly embraced him, only to have that bastard bite off several begonia petals in one gulp.

“I will come find you again.”

The moment these words were spoken to himself, Liang Ye felt a sense of liberation.

****

The room was filled with the fragrant aroma of begonia flowers.

Wang Dian slowly opened his eyes, greeted by a field of crimson, like blood seeping into his eyes.

“Awake?” Liang Ye’s muffled voice came through.

Wang Dian had not yet fully awakened from his hazy memories, but instinctively reached out to wrap his arm around his waist. “…Mm.”

Liang Ye had always been fond of his neck, perhaps because the begonia on his neck had been soaked in antidote too many times. Even after solving the poison, this guy couldn’t help but stick to it.

“Too noisy,” Liang Ye nuzzled into his neck, irritably covering his ears.

“You didn’t complain about the noise when you were making it all night,” Wang Dian said with a wry smile, removing his hand from his ears and placing it over Liang Ye’s own. “Cover your own, I can’t hear clearly.”

“Can’t sleep anymore.” Liang Ye fumbled drowsily for his stomach, pulling him into his arms. “What did you dream about… your body kept tensing up.”

“Ah.” Wang Dian slowly blinked his eyes and replied with a straight face. “I dreamed of eating tangyuan dumplings, all filled with Liang Ye filling. Each one made a small hollow when poked, floating in the bowl, posing coquettishly to tempt me.”

“Heh, if Zhen were a tangyuan, I’d be the hardest one. It’s your honor to eat me.” Liang Ye rested his leg on Wang Dian’s, closing his eyes and dozing for a while before he couldn’t help kissing his neck, like a pervert with ulterior motives.

Wang Dian turned his head to look at the begonias mixed with roses. Although Liang Ye’s aesthetic sense was somewhat disastrous, the flaws didn’t overshadow the merits. “Where did you get so many flowers?”

“From a friend.” Liang Ye keenly noticed his suspicious gaze and opened his eyes to say, “I cut them myself from their greenhouse. The owner is a chubby old man in his forties or fifties whom I met when I helped him fix his car.”

“…You know how to fix cars?” Wang Dian tousled his hair, unable to be angry.

“Ah-ah-ah——Of course Zhen can.” Liang Ye’s long hair was messed up by him, but he wasn’t annoyed. He sucked on his neck and bit down, sinisterly saying, “Don’t pull Zhen’s hair! Pull again and I’ll eat you!”

Wang Dian laughed quietly. Liang Ye reached out to press the corners of his upturned mouth, leaning in to kiss his ear stickily. “Last night when you were wrapped in red gauze, you looked like a begonia flower. Zhen liked seeing you bloom—”

“Cough, cough, cough!” Wang Dian choked on his own saliva and turned to glare at him.

“Open.” Liang Ye grabbed a begonia from the bed and brushed it against his face, smiling mischievously. “You sounded especially good, Zhen was very pleased.”

“You weren’t f*cking bad yourself.” Wang Dian said with a smile through gritted teeth. “My shoulder was almost bitten off by you.”

Liang Ye reached out to touch his shoulder, seemingly recalling something that made him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and said disdainfully, “Next time don’t expect Zhen to say those dirty words, it’s not fun.”

“I like it.” Wang Dian tilted his head slightly and bit the begonia petals, smiling seductively. “Don’t you like it? Your Majesty.”

Liang Ye’s gaze fell on his crimson lips and the flower petals between them. He forcefully tore the petals from the branch and moved closer to bite away the begonia petal on Wang Dian’s lips. “Don’t bite.”

Wang Dian clicked his tongue, leaned in, and deliberately licked the petal pressed between Liang Ye’s lips, laughing softly at him. “So petty.”

His tongue rolled away the petal that Wang Dian had kissed, and Liang Ye swallowed it with a disdainful expression. “Only bite Zhen.”

“You’re crazy.” Wang Dian laughed as he pinched his cheek. “Spit it out quickly.”

“Already swallowed it.” Liang Ye smacked his lips and frowned. “Not tasty, not as fragrant as your neck.”

“No matter how fragrant my f*cking neck is, you can’t slice it off and swallow it raw.” Wang Dian pinched his chin and shook it hard. “Is your brain filled with nothing but porridge?”

Liang Ye followed the force and shook his head. “Stop shaking, shake any more and Zhen’s head will fall off.”

Wang Dian’s movements suddenly stopped.

Liang Ye was still smiling, but seeing the expression on his face, he suddenly realized and said dryly, “Zhen was just joking.”

“Don’t make jokes like that.” Wang Dian lowered his eyes and reached out to touch the back of his neck. There was no visible wound, but he knew that piece of bone was gone. “What did your master put in you?”

Liang Ye nervously swallowed. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“I know whether it hurts or not.” Wang Dian pressed a little harder, and Liang Ye frowned with displeasure, moving closer with the pressure.

“Begonia.” Liang Ye smiled widely. “A flower bud.”

“F*ck.” Wang Dian couldn’t help cursing.

“Really.” Liang Ye couldn’t help touching the back of his neck, but only felt Wang Dian’s warm hand covering it. He raised his hand trying to gesture to him. “It just filled in a bit… mmm.”

“Stop trying to sell me your misery.” Wang Dian pinched the back of his neck, unable to be angry. “I’m not buying it.”

Liang Ye looked at him with a meaningful smile, touched the corner of his eye, and said softly, “Then why are your eyes red?”

“Idiot, it’s the reflection from the red curtains.” Wang Dian yawned lazily. “Let’s get up.”

“Sleep a bit more.” Liang Ye pressed him down, not letting him get up. “You didn’t sleep well.”

Wang Dian was stunned for a moment and frowned. “Did I talk in my sleep?”

“No.” Liang Ye lowered his head to kiss his slightly moist eyes, casually glossing over those horrific and unwilling nightmares. He raised his hand to cover his eyes and smiled. “Keep Zhen company for a bit longer.”

Wang Dian didn’t suspect anything. Besides, the two of them had indeed been too rough last night. Lying close to Liang Ye made him feel incredibly secure and satisfied. He blinked his eyes, his eyelashes brushing against Liang Ye’s palm, and said with disdain, “Don’t act spoiled.”

Liang Ye bit his neck in one bite, threatening in an unfriendly tone, “Zhen enjoys it. Sleep!”

Drowsiness overtook him. Wang Dian exchanged a few words with him before slowly closing his eyes and sinking into a sweet dream.

In his dream, he wore a tattered dragon robe, walked barefoot through the fertile land of Great Liang, through the magnificent walls of the capital, through the bustling and prosperous Nine Streets and Eighteen Alleys, through the vermilion walls and glazed tiles of the palace, to the Suixue Garden filled with begonia flowers.

On his left was a group of fierce military generals wielding swords, on his right were civil officials in long robes with frost-like integrity. Looking over, they were all familiar faces: Jiao Yan, Lu Shu, Wen Yu, Xu Xiude, Yan Ze, Zeng Jie… At the front, Wen Zong, supported by Baili Cheng’an, still looked spirited enough to break three dragon pillars.

Liang Huan sat happily on Cui Qi’s lap, waving to him. Li Mu, with a group of young secret guards, hung from the trees, making faces mischievously. Chong Heng also led Yang Wugui climbing down from the wall.

Liang Ye, wearing a clean and new dragon robe, stood with his hands behind his back, dignified and composed. Upon seeing him, he raised an eyebrow mockingly and smiled.

“Long live Your Majesty! Long live! Long, long live!”

The cheers of “long live” echoed through the clouds, and the begonias throughout the garden swayed in the wind.