Chapter 153: Unhappiness

When he spoke these words, Chu Mingheng’s expression was somewhat complex. From the memories transmitted to his mind, he sensed the words and actions of another “self.” It wasn’t that they were unlike those of an emperor, but when facing Lan Wu, there was always an underlying sense of urgency and panic.

Ultimately, he himself had never experienced Lan Wu’s departure, but even the mere thought of such a thing was enough to make his heart tighten, as if pierced by needles.

And such feelings might be enough to drive him mad.

“It wasn’t madness…” Lan Wu felt awkward, unwilling to hear him berate himself. Although it was his past self, as their memories gradually merged, it sounded as though Chu Mingheng was scolding himself.

She cleared her throat softly and said, “I think it was fine.”

As she was preparing to sleep, Lan Wu wore light, thin clothing. Her black hair cascaded like a waterfall, with a strand falling over her chest, accentuating her fair skin and giving her an air of softness and charm.

“Has Your Majesty recalled everything that happened that day?” Lan Wu asked cautiously, glancing at Chu Mingheng’s expression as she spoke.

Chu Mingheng lowered his gaze, still sorting through his thoughts, when his expression suddenly stiffened. He looked up and stared at Lan Wu.

More precisely, he stared at the faint crimson mark beneath her clothing, where her neck met her collarbone.

His expression gradually turned cold as he reached out and slightly pulled open the collar of Lan Wu’s garment.

Belatedly realizing, Lan Wu looked down and saw a small kiss mark on her collarbone.

It was left by Chu Mingheng the day before.

Even though it was the same person, the situation gave Lan Wu the illusion of being caught in an affair.

She opened her mouth to explain, but at that moment, an arm firmly wrapped around her waist, pulling her slightly forward. Her collar half-opened, revealing the undergarment that concealed her modesty.

Lan Wu’s face flushed crimson as she watched Chu Mingheng extend a finger and press meaningfully against the kiss mark. The expression in his eyes conveyed anything but joy.

She felt wronged. It wasn’t her fault—Chu Mingheng was the one who had done this, yet she was left to bear the blame.

“A’Wu, I am somewhat unhappy,” Chu Mingheng murmured slowly.

As he spoke, his hand moved to Lan Wu’s back, feeling for the ties of her undergarment. He toyed with the strings, not untying them, as if waiting for Lan Wu’s explanation.

Lan Wu had nothing to explain. She held Chu Mingheng’s greatest secret.

“You’re unhappy?” Lan Wu glanced at him, then lowered her head and muttered, “I’m unhappy too. Do you think I’ve had it easy?”

First, she was inexplicably dragged into the old grievances of the Late Emperor’s imperial concubines and died a tragic death. Then, she inexplicably came back to life, only to learn that her revival was connected to Chu Mingheng. It was only because she was thick-skinned that she could endure it. If it were someone more delicate, such experiences might have driven them to despair.

Chu Mingheng released the ties of Lan Wu’s undergarment, pulled her into his embrace, and kissed her gently, soothingly whispering, “No, it’s not that I’m so unhappy. Having A’Wu by my side is my greatest joy.”

Lan Wu struggled slightly but couldn’t break free from his hold. Instead, warm kisses fell on her neck, moving downward to cover the earlier kiss mark, where he gently bit her.

Lan Wu stopped moving. Only when he had completely covered the kiss mark and finally released her did she pull away slightly, noticing his gaze still fixed on her.

He looked like a tiger on the verge of starvation, his eyes intently fixed on her.

Lan Wu reached out to gather her clothes, turned over, and wrapped herself in the quilt before asking Chu Mingheng once more, “Your Majesty, have you remembered everything?”

Time waited for no one—she still had to discuss serious matters.

Only then did Chu Mingheng gently press his forehead, close his eyes for a moment, and slowly reply, “I’ve remembered some of it.”

Some? How much was “some”?

“Do you remember what Master Huifan said?” This was the most important question.

Lan Wu observed his expression and saw him hesitate briefly before opening his eyes again and speaking, “What did Huifan say?”

So he hadn’t remembered yet.

Sitting across from him, Lan Wu thought that Chu Mingheng needed to know these things anyway—otherwise, he would recall them on his own, and hiding them would be pointless.

So she told him everything Master Huifan of Nanli Temple had said.

“Master Huifan said that if I go to Changyong Mountain to pray for blessings for three months, you’ll recover.”

Lan Wu blinked, leaned in a little closer, and smiled. “I’ve never been to Changyong Mountain before. It might be nice to go there.”

Chu Mingheng listened to Lan Wu’s words in silence. Even after she finished speaking, he didn’t offer a smile. Instead, he seized on her words and asked, “How long did he say you’d have to go?”

“Th-three months,” Lan Wu replied.

Chu Mingheng gritted his teeth and made to rise. “I’ll have someone tear down that wretched temple of his right now.”

What?

Lan Wu hurriedly chased after him, wrapping her arms around his waist to keep him from leaving the bed.

“Why tear down Nanli Temple? Master Huifan wasn’t lying—he was offering us a solution—” Lan Wu held onto him, struggling to pull him back. As soon as she caught her breath, Chu Mingheng pinched her chin.

Chu Mingheng’s face loomed close, fierce but not directed at her.

“I think he’s just spouting nonsense. Who knows what he’s really scheming?”

Seeing how genuinely angry he was—something she had anticipated—Lan Wu gently pushed his hand away, turned her back, and sat to the side, lowering her head as if wiping away tears.

“Though I may be foolish, I know well how difficult it was to come back to life this time. Even if I didn’t have to exert much effort, how much did Your Majesty do for me? I don’t know, and neither do you now…”

That was why Lan Wu couldn’t blame the Chu Mingheng of the previous life for how deranged he had become. Chu Mingheng himself could say such things, but she couldn’t bring herself to—she couldn’t even imagine it.

“Is it wrong for me to not want you to die? I just want us to live well. Can’t you listen to me for once? If I’d known it would be like this, why bother saving me, only to leave me alone in the end?”

As she spoke, Lan Wu’s own sorrow welled up, and tears fell like strings of pearls, dropping one by one.

Chu Mingheng watched her crying with her back turned, feeling somewhat at a loss.

“I won’t die,” he said, drawing closer to Lan Wu and pulling her slender form into his embrace with a soft sigh. “I’m perfectly fine now. How could I die?”

Only Lan Wu would go around saying he was going to die all the time. If word got out, she’d be the first one punished.

Chu Mingheng himself believed Huifan was just fearmongering, but Lan Wu firmly trusted his words.

“At first, it was headaches and fever… then fainting spells, and the pain would deepen…” Lan Wu turned her head away, tears soaking into the bedding. “Who knows when you might never wake up again.”

“Do you want me to see you like that?”

“Didn’t you say you would take me to the wild plains to see the flowers in spring?” Lan Wu’s reddened, tear-filled eyes stared at him as she reached out to poke his chest, speaking slowly, “How can you, who will never wake again, take me to see the flowers?”