Chapter 174 (End of Main Story)

Because of that one line—“Like Shen and Shang, we do not meet”—Rong Tang had once indulged Su Huaijing to the point of recklessness.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid, or that he believed the curse would never come true. But perhaps it was because he understood why he was here, and knew that both the system and Huimian could serve as his last line of defence. So, in truth, he wasn’t all that worried.

This body, after all, was inherently frail. Once Su Huaijing ascended the throne and everything was resolved, Rong Tang might very well be granted a new one. And that wouldn’t be such a terrible outcome.

Of course, nothing was certain. Rong Tang didn’t even know whether, if given a new body, he would wake at once… or fall into a coma for several years like some melodramatic character in a cliché web novel.

That uncertainty was precisely why he’d let Su Huaijing have his way with him so freely, so indulgently, these past few weeks.

But there were limits. And Su Xiao Qi’s appetite? Not something any normal human being could be expected to withstand.

When Rong Tang once again woke in the late afternoon, dazed and aching all over, his legs trembling the moment his feet touched the floor, he realised. This couldn’t go on.

Su Xiao Qi was pushing it. He was unreasonable. He broke his promises. He took liberties. He was, in every sense, an absolute cad!

Rong Tang thought for a moment, then instructed Shuang Fu to take him to Wentian Tower.

He had planned to ask Huimian whether there were any ways to guard against what might come. But this time, oddly enough, he wasn’t shown inside. Instead, a young monk emerged from the tower, pressed his palms together in greeting, and handed over a scroll of scripture and a potted plant.

“The Master has left the tower to travel,” the boy said slowly. “Before he went, he told me to give this to you, should you come.”

Rong Tang blinked. Inside the pot, nestled among moss and soil, a small cloud-like puff of a system wobbled up and down excitedly, evidently eager to leap out and stick to him.

His expression softened. Smiling, he reached out at once and scooped the little fool into his arms.

He asked the novice a few more questions and learned that Huimian had only just left not long ago. But no one knew where he had gone. Rong Tang paused, then felt something in his chest settle. Oddly, it comforted him.

Some people might panic at being unable to find help when in need. But to Rong Tang, this wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. If the curse were truly dangerous, Huimian would never have left so casually.

He offered his thanks, returned to the carriage, and opened the scripture Huimian had left for him. The title read: The Calming Mantra.

Rong Tang: “…?”

He stared at it for a long while, utterly baffled.

Shuang Fu asked where they were heading next. Without thinking, Rong Tang said, “Back to Yong’an Lane.”

Su Huaijing was practically chained to the palace twelve hours a day. That main villain had tried more than once to coax Rong Tang into moving into the palace with him… usually while entangled in bedsheets. Rong Tang, dazed out of his wits by his coaxing, had said all sorts of things no decent person should ever say, blushing furiously the whole time. But this? This he never agreed to.

So the main villain would sulk. And the more he sulked, the harder he pounded Rong Tang… until Rong Tang’s voice fractured into broken gasps. Then, trembling, he would clutch him tightly, calling his name in a hoarse whisper, switching between: Huaijing, Xiao Qi, Susu, darling, husband, my love, madam, Fuya…

A complete mess.

But they were both hopelessly addicted. Su Huaijing, no better than him, would slow down partway through and press kisses to his lips.

Rong Tang never yielded. Su Huaijing never dared to force him. So instead, the Emperor would sneak out of the palace every few days, scale the walls of Rong Tang’s tiny courtyard, and slip into his bed like a thief, desperate for a cuddle.

…There wasn’t a trace of imperial dignity left in him.

Sometimes Rong Tang would wonder: if the ministers ever saw how Su Huaijing acted around him, would they believe he had even an ounce of regal bearing?

What he didn’t know was that the ministers were just as curious: what kind of man must Rong Tang be, to stay by Su Huaijing’s side for four years and never once run away?

Rong Tang hadn’t asked about Sheng Chengli’s final fate. Only one thing that gave him pause. The Heavenly Way… was now bound to the male protagonist. That usually didn’t end well.

Su Huaijing had said there weren’t any auspicious dates approaching, so the coronation would have to wait.

And so, they waited.

One day, bored out of his mind, Rong Tang wandered the streets and found himself in the city’s busiest district, where several pieces of paper had been posted. Curious, he stepped closer, only to find that they were copies of Emperor Renshou’s confession of guilt.

The Hanlin scholars had been burning the midnight oil for days, transcribing thousands of copies from the original. They had plastered them across every street and alley in the capital, and sent bundles down to every province and county, with instructions to display them prominently.

The people were thrown into uproar. Who could have imagined they would one day witness an emperor penning a record of his own crimes?

At court one day, Su Huaijing brought it up offhandedly during a meeting: “The late emperor is gone. His coffin will soon be interred in the imperial mausoleum. What should we choose as his posthumous title?”

Just a few words… but they would encapsulate an entire life’s legacy. Throughout history, emperors had revised records and embellished accomplishments all for the sake of those final characters, hoping future generations might deem them wise rulers, their efforts not in vain.

But Sheng Xuyan’s case was particularly sensitive. His successor was the son of the late Slayer Emperor. So however you spun it, the name Renshou wasn’t going to stand.

Yet there are only so many disgraceful posthumous titles: Lü (Cruel), Li (Violent), Jie (Tyrannical), Zhou (Debauched)…

—They couldn’t actually call him “Slayer Emperor”, could they?

The same thought flashed across every mind in the hall.

Then Lu Jiaxi, usually the quietest in court, stepped forward. After a brief moment of thought, he said, “Why not call him the Slayer Emperor outright?”

Su Huaijing glanced at him, intrigued. “Why so?”

All eyes turned to Lu Jiaxi. He looked momentarily flustered, but quickly composed himself and said:

“Since the late emperor wrote a confession with his own hand, we may take that as an admission that the tales of the Slayer Emperor were slander. Your Highness is his son, and if you are to ascend the throne, it is only right that a son seek to clear his father’s name. That being so, the title “Slayer” ought to be discarded.”

Su Huaijing nodded in approval. “Go on.”

Encouraged, Lu Jiaxi continued: “However, whether in official histories or popular lore, the title Slayer Emperor has already taken root. It cannot be undone in a year or even five. In my view, since it cannot be erased—then let it be. The deeds people attribute to the Slayer Emperor? The late emperor committed most of them anyway. He might as well carry the name.”

“That’s treasonous talk. Rebellion, subversion, a betrayal of all decency.”

The more Lu Jiaxi spoke, the quieter the hall grew. His voice, once firm, waned of its own accord. By the end, even he sounded uncertain, casting a nervous glance towards Su Huaijing.

Su Huaijing merely smiled, idly toying with a string of jade beads as he asked in a soft voice, “So, who put you up to this? Who told you to come and say all this to cheer me up?”

Lu Jiaxi was so startled he nearly dropped to his knees. “Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare!”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Su Huaijing remarked. “You’re far too timid.”

His gaze swept lazily across the gathered officials. “What Excellency Lu just said was, by rights, heretical. It ought to be punished.”

A tense, pin-drop silence descended. Cold sweat trickled down Lu Jiaxi’s back. Just as he thought his head was about to roll, Su Huaijing gave a low chuckle. He was clearly in good spirits.

“But I liked it.”

Everyone: “!?”

Su Huaijing continued, “I’d been pondering what sort of posthumous title would truly encapsulate my dear uncle’s life of perverse transgressions and unforgivable wrongs. Excellency Lu’s suggestion suits my tastes precisely.”

“Since my uncle went to such pains to craft such a title for my father, it’s only fair I return the favour. Give it back to its original owner. Don’t you agree?”

The ministers didn’t dare object. One after another, they dropped to their knees in agreement. None of them seemed to care that, in doing so, Emperor Renshou would now bear the full brunt not only of his own self-penned repentance, but of the false glories he once fabricated… glories that would, in time, be stripped away one by one.

He had no one to blame but himself.

Su Huaijing said, “In that case, we must draft a new posthumous title for my father.”

His gaze fell on Lu Jiaxi again. In a tone that was warm and almost indulgent, he said, “I’ll leave it to you. Do it well, and I’ll raise you to Vice Minister of Rites.”

The barely twenty-year-old Excellency Lu felt his heart thud wildly at the sudden rise in rank.

He swallowed thickly, dropped to his knees, and knocked his head in thanks, muttering inwardly that the Shizi Fei hadn’t seemed so capricious before…

This was enough to scare someone to death.

—

In the days before Su Huaijing’s ascension, he barely slept a full night.

At first, Rong Tang worried that he was nervous. He’d coax him each evening with a soft voice, but Su Huaijing would soon latch onto the opportunity. He would act deliberately pitiful, eyes downcast, wearing grievance like a cloak as he nestled into the crook of Rong Tang’s neck, his voice growing soft and trembling:

“Tangtang, do you think… I’ve truly avenged them?”

“My father, my mother, my siblings… can they see me now, from the underworld? Would they be glad?”

“You know, Tangtang… I’ve always been alone. Now that it’s all about to happen, I… I’m scared.”

“…”

Rong Tang had no way to deal with that. He could only comfort him… and before long, would find himself peeling off his inner robes.

More than once, he wanted to ask: what exactly did being scared have to do with shagging him? Was it really true that the deeper the thrusts, the lesser the fear?

But every time that thought floated through Rong Tang’s mind, it would be promptly scattered by Su Huaijing’s shameless antics… so much so that he never managed to voice it aloud.

Eventually, it became routine. He didn’t even bother to coax anymore. As soon as Su Huaijing lowered his gaze and opened his mouth to speak, Rong Tang would beat him to it, pressing his lips against his and muttering, “Shut it. No sob stories. Just get on with it.”

After all, wasn’t that what they were here for?

Su Huaijing paused, blinking. And then burst out laughing. “Thank you, Tangtang gege.”

Honestly, just listen to him. He bullies people, and then he says thank you!

Utterly unreasonable.

After days of not seeing the morning sun, with the scent of osmanthus thick in the air, Rong Tang thought: This is not sustainable.

If the “Heavenly Way” didn’t curse him to death first, Su Huaijing might very well fuck him to death.

The thought tormented him for days, right up until the day of the enthronement.

That morning, Rong Tang lay half-asleep, barely aware of the familiar mechanical chime that sounded. Something flickering across his mind.

He was too tired to care. He watched, bleary-eyed, as Su Huaijing donned the dragon robe, performed the three bows and six rites, as bells rang and drums rolled, step by solemn step ascending the red steps to the throne that had always been his by right.

Rong Tang’s eyes prickled with unexpected heat. On instinct, he tried to open the system space, to look at that map one last time—

But he froze.

Froze for a long, long time.

“Young Master?” Shuang Fu asked softly. “Are you all right?”

Rong Tang came back to himself, shook his head stiffly. “It’s nothing.”

Only… the map was gone.

No system space. No opposing grey and black mists.

He had been unbound.

Finally, he remembered the line he’d half-heard that morning, drifting through a haze of sleep:

[Congratulations, host. Mission complete. Reward has been stored and is available for collection at any time!]

His reward… was probably a sound and healthy body.

And, inexplicably, that thought filled him with dread.

That night, Su Huaijing drank a few cups too many, and grew ever more insatiable. And Rong Tang’s fear peaked.

A new body! Untouched! How could it possibly endure Su Xiao Qi’s level of depravity?!

He was going to die. Genuinely, actually die.

And Su Huaijing was utterly unaware. He was still ravishing him senseless, even murmuring at the climax, lips against Rong Tang’s ear:

“Tangtang… will you be my Empress?”

“Or shall I be your Empress?”

The emperor had only just finished his enthronement ceremony, yet spoke with such natural ease, he didn’t feel the slightest hint that something might be amiss.

Rong Tang: “……”

Brilliant. He was either going to be shagged to death or slandered to death by the ministers.

In any case, there was no saving his poor little life now.

He swallowed hard. He couldn’t even recall what he mumbled in reply… just that sleep overtook him soon after.

—

By the time he awoke the next morning, Su Huaijing was no longer beside him.

Rong Tang groaned, rubbing his aching waist. Just then, a familiar voice rang in his ears:

“Tangtang! TangtangTangtangTangtang! Ready to claim your reward?!”

He blinked up and saw a familiar little glowing orb bobbing mid-air. His old system was floating excitedly up and down to catch his attention.

Before he could feel any proper joy, Rong Tang froze. On reflex, he grabbed the quilt and yanked it over himself.

The system made a rude little “Tsk!” and said snidely, “Now you remember to feel ashamed?”

Rong Tang: “…”

After all this time apart, this stupid little gremlin was still exactly the same.

Still chirpy, the system asked again, “TangtangTangtangTangtang! Want to claim your reward?”

Rong Tang paused, then nodded. “Go on, then.”

“Yay! Okay okay! But first, you have to come down from the bed.”

“…?”

He hesitated, then got up, tugged on a robe, and stepped off the bed.

At once, the system zipped straight into the bed curtains, rustled around for a suspiciously long while, then shouted, “All done!”

“…?”

Rong Tang turned… and stared.

Lying neatly in the bed… was himself.

Exactly the same face, same figure, same tousled hair. Even the marks on his skin—every kiss, every bruise, every fingernail trail—were recreated with eerie precision.

Rong Tang’s ears flushed red on instinct.

Before he could say a word, the system fluttered back over. It seemed to fiddle with something unseen… and a flash of light passed through him.

Suddenly, his entire body felt weightless and clean, relaxed in a way he hadn’t experienced in lifetimes. Like something deep inside had been gently, thoroughly healed.

He looked to the system, startled.

It said cheerfully, “I was going to give you a brand-new body! But I figured you’re already used to this one, so I did a little sneaky work instead and fixed all your lingering issues! Tangtang’s going to live a long, healthy life now. One hundred years, easy!”

It said it so lightly, but Rong Tang could guess how rare and difficult such “sneaky work” must have been.

His heart softened, and he smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” the system shouted. “Tangtang, let’s run away!”

“…What?”

“Look, I even made you a fake body! You’ve been itching to run off these last few days, haven’t you? Come on, let’s go! Let that main villain stew. Who told him to act like a bloody beast?”

The system practically bounced with glee.

Rong Tang blinked, glanced back at the fake body on the bed. “This…”

“Don’t worry! He won’t wake up or die. When we come back, we’ll recycle him. The main villain’ll just assume you’ve been in a coma for a few months.”

The system wheedled, “Didn’t you say before that once your mission was done, we’d head to Dayu and anchor the world together? Come on, come play with me!”

Rong Tang had never seen the system this clingy before. He grew suspicious, hesitated, then asked seriously, “What’s wrong?”

The system tried to be cute and change the subject, but when it saw Rong Tang wasn’t budging, it gave in and confessed after a short pause:

“I’m… going to become the Heavenly Way.”

Heavenly Way was impartial. It couldn’t linger in the mortal world.

With Rong Tang and the original “Heavenly Way” both unbound, the little system had finally been caught by the World Consciousness… and summoned upward.

“I’ve only got three months left,” it said. “Once New Year’s Eve passes, I have to ascend. But this time, Tangtang, I will say Happy New Year to you!”

It hovered close and rubbed affectionately against him. “Come with me, come on! Think about it: your body’s all better now. If you stay, won’t that beast of a villain just bully you worse than ever? Run away with me, pleaaaase~~”

Rong Tang: “……”

He was silent for a long while. Shamefully… his heart was moved.

He thought for a bit, then packed his bags to slip away.

On his way out, he caught sight of the little potted plant the system used to live in… and suddenly recalled the Calming Sutra. A flash of insight struck.

So that’s who Master Huimian had left the scripture for.

Grinding his teeth, Rong Tang flung the book back into the room without a second thought, turned on his heel, and followed the system to the carriage waiting outside the capital.

To avoid attracting attention, the system insisted he switch to a new, low-profile cart.

But Rong Tang, remembering the thrill of riding last time, felt a little itch. After a two-second struggle, he bought a donkey to trail the cart.

Once they left the crowded roads, he packed the luggage into the carriage and mounted the little donkey, ambling forward slowly.

The air was crisp, the sky clean and wide. The system chattered on beside him, planning the journey: first to Jiangnan to visit his mother, then reunite with san ge and the rest for a proper family dinner. Afterwards, they’d swing by to pick up Mu Jingxu and Ke Hongxue and head out across the mountains of Lingnan and the snows of Saibei… to tour the vast beauty of Dayu.

The system burbled on happily, painting plans in the air as man and orb travelled slowly side by side, passing citizens who were all going about their simple, contented day.

Until they neared the city gates.

All at once, the air froze.

A sound of galloping hooves thundered from behind.

The orb in Rong Tang’s arms pulsed once, and vanished.

Startled, he looked up, just in time to hear the sharp cry of an eagle overhead. From the side came the low, restrained growls of dogs.

A heavy sense of dread rose in his chest.

Beneath him, the little donkey shook so badly it nearly collapsed.

Rong Tang sat in grim silence for a long moment, then slowly turned around… resigned to his fate.

Behind him was a sea of imperial palace guards in armour.

Falcons circled the sky. Wolfhounds bared their teeth, drooling.

Court officials knelt on either side, still dressed in full ceremonial robes, as if they’d run straight from morning court, terrified that the emperor had fled.

Rong Tang shut his eyes, then looked to the end of the crowd.

There he was.

The Son of Heaven, clad in brilliant yellow robes, walking toward him with a smile, one step at a time.

He stopped before him, raised his eyes slightly, and lifted his hand.

Clutched within was the shivering little orb of a system.

Su Huaijing looked at him, voice soft and gentle as anything:

“Husband… were you planning to abandon your wife and children?”

Rong Tang: “……”

Can you give birth? What a bloody nerve.

He seethed inwardly, but only pressed his lips together and dared not speak a word aloud.

Su Huaijing, however, was still smiling as if he’d done nothing outrageous. He tossed the system back into Rong Tang’s arms, then held out a hand. “Come home with me. I’ll give you half the empire.”

On either side, the assembled civil and military officials forgot all decorum. Their heads shot up, and they stared at Rong Tang in stunned horror.

Rong Tang: “……”

Excellent. He was either going to die from exhaustion, or be torn apart by public outcry first.

Keeping his face completely blank, not daring even the slightest twitch, he muttered: “No.”

Su Huaijing took it in stride, nodded with ease, and casually flung an imperial edict at Sheng Chengming, who had accompanied him. Then he swung himself up onto the little donkey beneath Rong Tang.

The poor beast was trembling so badly it could hardly stand. One sneeze and it’d probably faint from fright.

Su Huaijing couldn’t help but laugh, then climbed down again and lifted Rong Tang off as well.

Startled, Rong Tang blushed fiercely, burying his face in Su Huaijing’s chest out of sheer mortification.

The man leaned down and whispered into his ear, mischief in every word: “Why did Tangtang gege buy a donkey just like himself? So timid, and yet so daring.”

Rong Tang was this close to exploding, but there were too many eyes watching. He held his tongue.

Not until Su Huaijing carried him into the carriage did he finally glare at the man, face still flushed.

Su Huaijing looked at him gently. “You truly want to leave?”

Rong Tang nodded, firm and solemn. “Yes!”

“And will you come back?” Su Huaijing asked softly.

Rong Tang hesitated a beat, then replied haughtily, “Depends.”

Su Huaijing lowered his head, shoulders shaking as he tried to stifle a laugh. When he looked back up, he wore a pitiful expression, eyes glimmering with tragic hope. “Could you take me with you? I don’t eat much.”

Rong Tang gaped at him.

He didn’t know whether to call out the man’s utterly transparent acting, or question what kind of nonsense he was even spouting.

Hadn’t he just taken the throne?!

In the end, reason won out over emotion. Rong Tang frowned. “Are you serious? What is this, another rebellion?”

“Ah—” Su Huaijing sighed dramatically, “So my Tangtang gege does care about me after all.”

Rong Tang: “……”

He lowered his head, sniffing suspiciously about the carriage.

Why did it smell so strongly of tea?

Then Su Huaijing spoke again, tone softer, almost fragile: “I thought you didn’t care at all. I thought… you wouldn’t mind if I went mad. That’s why you left. Because you didn’t want me anymore.”

There was such aching vulnerability in his voice that anyone listening would’ve felt their heart lurch.

Rong Tang blurted out instinctively, “That’s not true—”

Su Huaijing wrapped his arms tighter around him, discreetly shooting a murderous glare at the hovering system behind him. Then he leaned down and whispered, “Where do you want to go, Tangtang?”

“…Jiangnan,” Rong Tang murmured.

It wasn’t that he didn’t plan on coming back. The system was leaving soon, and Su Huaijing had truly been too unbearable lately—he’d only meant to get away for a while. Three or four months at most.

…Honestly, the thought of being apart that long made his heart ache.

“I left a letter,” he mumbled.

Su Huaijing blinked innocently. “Do you mean that line in the Calming Sutra? That part about how I should live a chaste, abstinent life like a proper man?”

Rong Tang: “……”

His ears turned scarlet.

Seeing that, Su Huaijing finally relented. He chuckled, then said gently, “Let’s go to Jiangnan together, hmm? We didn’t even have a reunion dinner this Mid-Autumn. Let’s visit Mother and san ge. It’ll be good to see everyone.”

That had been Rong Tang’s original plan. But with so many officials still kneeling outside, he didn’t dare agree too quickly.

Su Huaijing saw the hesitation and reassured him slowly, “Sheng Chengming’s been learning under me for years. A few months of regency won’t do any harm. And besides—”

He leaned in, lowered his voice: “Neither of us can bear children. I’m going to Jiangnan to bring the Crown Prince back to court. It’s not some idle, hedonistic escapade. If anything, those old fossils on the Council are desperate for me to fetch them a little heir in robes and a topknot.”

Rong Tang blinked and turned to stare at him in disbelief.

Su Huaijing couldn’t help it. He leaned in and bit gently at Rong Tang’s slightly parted lips. “I’ve been dreaming of running off with you once this was over. If being emperor means never seeing you again, I might as well tie up san ge and shove him onto the throne now. He’s smarter than me, anyway. He’ll do fine. Teach Yuanyuan well. Keep Dayu running.”

He smiled cheekily. “San ge loves me. If I act a little spoiled and cry a bit, he won’t say no. Plus, with the Ke family’s fortunes seized, we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

Rong Tang didn’t know whether to believe a word of it.

This man was becoming more and more shameless.

After a long silence, Su Huaijing let out a quiet sigh. “I’m joking,” he said. “Didn’t I promise to show you a better Dayu?”

“Even sages need rest. Even emperors must take breathers. A few days of slacking off… it’s hardly treason.” His voice dipped low again, brushing against Rong Tang’s ear like velvet. “If Tangtang wants me to show restraint, I’ll try my best. It’s just… I love you too much. That’s why I lose control.”

“I’ll try to act like I don’t love you so much. So you don’t feel burdened. Just… don’t push me away, all right?”

“If you stay with me, I’ll be good. Truly.”

It was the quietest he’d spoken all day. As if everything he’d ever learned about restraint and self-discipline had been for this one person, and this person alone.

“But if you really want to leave…” he whispered.

Rong Tang’s heart clenched sharply.

His gaze shifted, a flicker of fear. It was so faint it barely showed… darting through his eyes.

Su Huaijing broke into a smile and kissed his eyes. “You’re free to go, Tangtang. Go wherever you like. Have all the freedom you want. I’ll always come after you, that’s all. And if one day you’d rather I didn’t follow, then I’ll stay right where I am. So whenever you’re tired, if you turn back, I’ll be there. I’ll always be behind you.”

Su Huaijing had whispered countless sweet nothings to Rong Tang in his time, every one of them sincere. Every time, it was as if he were offering up his very heart, holding it out bare for Rong Tang to see.

And every time, without fail, he coaxed away another sliver of Rong Tang’s guarded affection.

His words fell quietly in the carriage, and for a long while, Rong Tang didn’t react… lost in them.

Then Su Huaijing spoke again, his eyes glittering, bright and beautiful like stars. “So, Tangtang… will you take me travelling with you? I’ll be very good. I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”

Outside the carriage, Dayu’s freshly pacified capital basked in early autumn peace. Inside the carriage, a main villain and a transmigrator who had walked through three lifetimes finally embraced.

Rong Tang swallowed without thinking, then, overcome by emotion, leaned forward and kissed Su Huaijing on the lips.

The latter froze for a split second, then returned the kiss with even greater fervour, as if they could draw out each other’s souls and fuse them together, binding themselves for life, unchanging even in death.

The system, at a complete loss, panicked and quietly floated out of the carriage.

Much later, when the kiss finally ended, Rong Tang pulled back, his voice low and hoarse with feeling as he threatened: “Su Xiao Qi, you’d best behave yourself.”

Su Huaijing beamed, instantly pulling Rong Tang’s hand into his own, fingers slotting neatly together. “Of course I’ll be good.”

You’re the little Buddha sent down from the heavens to save me. And I am your most loyal believer. How could I possibly not behave?

The autumn wind swept through Yu capital. Upon the Jinfen River, the season’s fallen leaves drifted gently, scattered by the breeze. On either bank, young men lived boldly and brightly, full of life. The capital of Dayu remained as resplendent and flourishing as ever.

Year after year, day after day, as the seasons turned. Life, in all its warmth and vibrance, carried on.

—End of Main Story—

The author has something to say:

Today, we gather here to celebrate: Yuxi Qiuqiu is finally complete! Throw the confetti! Applaud! (Clap clap clap—!)

Thank you all for staying with me and supporting me along the way. I know I still have a lot of room for improvement, and I’m truly grateful to each and every one of you who stuck around and chose to be patient with me. I love you all! Mwah mwah mwah!

The next historical danmei novel will be 《微臣诚惶诚恐》 (This Humble Servant Trembles in Trepidation). I haven’t set a start date yet, but before launching that, I’ll be finishing the extra chapters for this one and patching up some backlog in my column—so don’t expect it too soon~

The translator (PurpleLy) has something to say:

Everyone, let’s thank the author for giving us such a lovely story, and a wonderful ending. *phew* That was one looong chapter. I’m on the last lap now. Stay tuned for the extras!