Chapter 187: Chu Mingheng

In her dream, Lan Wu saw the coffin placed in the great hall, surrounded by solemn white.

She felt as if nailed to the spot, staring blankly at everything before her, unwilling to believe it, shaking her head stiffly.

Then, someone entered the hall.

That person walked slowly to stand behind Lan Wu, and a familiar voice spoke: “Your Majesty should leave now.”

Lan Wu turned sharply and saw Master Huifan standing behind her.

Tears streamed from her eyes at that moment.

Her earlier feeling had indeed been correct—Master Huifan could see her.

But what about Chu Mingheng?

Chu Mingheng had not seen her again until his death…

“Leave…” Lan Wu trembled, reaching out as if to touch the coffin, asking in confusion, “Where should I go…?”

Master Huifan shook his head gently and said, “Wherever it may be, it should not be here. His Majesty is not in this place.”

His words were truly strange, and it took Lan Wu a long moment to process their meaning.

Not here?

Then where was he?

“Your Majesty should leave now,” Huifan repeated.

After he spoke these words, white mist rose around them once more.

“No—” Lan Wu regained clarity for an instant, struggling fiercely, unwilling to awaken from the dream.

Yet as the mist dissipated, the surroundings suddenly darkened. The abrupt shift from light to shadow left Lan Wu unable to see anything, as if plunged into an abyss of ink-black darkness.

But when sight failed, her sense of smell grew sharper.

Lan Wu caught a faint scent of decay.

“Cough, cough—”

A coughing sound suddenly echoed around her, a voice achingly familiar, as if carved into her mind, impossible to forget.

It was Chu Mingheng’s voice.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Lan Wu gradually made out her surroundings.

It was an enormous, dim chamber, enclosed by walls adorned with carvings and murals—all depicting her. Upon closer inspection, parts of the walls shimmered with light, as if embedded with gemstones.

And on the central platform lay a coffin.

The coughing had come from within that coffin atop the platform.

Lan Wu moved as if carried by the wind, rushing up the steps.

The coffin was open, its contents fully visible.

Her lips trembled, her legs nearly giving way. She could only reach out unsteadily to brace herself against the side of the coffin, her gaze vacant yet stubbornly, desperately fixed on the scene inside.

It was indeed Chu Mingheng.

Chu Mingheng and… the skeleton of a woman.

Chu Mingheng was not yet dead, though Lan Wu had indeed witnessed the funeral earlier. Master Huifan had said Chu Mingheng was not there—and truly, he was not. He was here.

The skeleton appeared to have died many years ago, reduced to bare bones. The coffin was large, as if originally designed for two—a double coffin. Besides these, it was filled with jewels and ornaments. And Chu Mingheng…

Chu Mingheng held only a few paintings in his arms.

He lay facing the skeleton as if gazing upon a living, breathing Lan Wu, his lips slightly curved in a smile as he murmured softly, “A’Wu, I have come to see you.”

He did not seem like a man on the verge of death. Apart from the earlier coughing, he now spoke clearly, his voice full of strength.

“I seem to have aged greatly. Do not disdain me…”

He spoke, reaching out on his own to gently touch Lan Wu’s skull, then stopped his hand, pursed his lips, and continued, “Beauty and decay are but skin deep. You must not despise me.”

“You see, we’ve known each other for less than a year, yet I still remember your appearance, so beautiful… I remember when you danced for me.”

Speaking of this, Chu Mingheng smiled again, “A’Wu, you never liked dancing, did you?”

“In the past, the only skill you could use to please me was dancing. I was no good either—knowing you didn’t like it, yet I still made you dance.”

“I’ll reflect on it, alright? If there’s a next time, you can scold me, or even slap me a few times—that would be fine.”

He spoke a bit too hastily and began coughing lightly again, though this time he didn’t cough up blood.

A faint flush colored his face, less a sign of good health and more like the last glow before the end.

His gaze grew distant, as if reminiscing about something. After saying these words, he repeated softly, “A’Wu, we’ve known each other for less than a year…”

“It’s too short, how could it be so short?”

“Did I do something wrong? Why treat me this way…”

By the end, tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. He covered his face with his hands and fell silent.

Lan Wu took a deep breath, once again catching the faint scent of decay lingering in the air.

“Chu Mingheng… are you a fool?” Her lips trembled repeatedly before she finally uttered these words with a sigh-like, almost amused tone.

As she spoke, tears welled up in Lan Wu’s eyes, blurring everything before her.

She tried to wipe her tears away with her sleeve, but they seemed unstoppable, flowing ceaselessly down her cheeks.

Even in death, he couldn’t rest in peace, going to such lengths to come to her tomb and weep before her bones.

Even the most deranged madman could not match Chu Mingheng’s obsession.

Lan Wu gripped the edge of the coffin, moving step by step closer to Chu Mingheng.

“Your Majesty—Your Majesty, look at me, look at me again—!” Her voice choked with sobs, each word tinged with tears. Though she knew Chu Mingheng couldn’t hear her, she stubbornly forced the words out.

“I’m here… I’m right here…” Lan Wu moved to the top of the coffin, directly above Chu Mingheng’s head. With her arms braced against the coffin’s edge, she could only reach inside.

“Your Majesty… Chu Mingheng, didn’t you want to see me? Didn’t you miss me?”

Lan Wu couldn’t control her sobs. As she reached out, her hand passed through Chu Mingheng’s body once more.

She couldn’t touch him, and he couldn’t hear her—

Lan Wu suddenly broke into heart-wrenching sobs, tears falling one by one. Hot, crystalline droplets landed on Chu Mingheng’s forehead, then slid down the slope of his skin.

At that moment, Chu Mingheng lowered his hands. His crimson eyes stared directly upward, as if convinced that someone was watching him from the empty space above, crying for him.

He reached up, speaking softly, “A’Wu, have you come to see me?”

Lan Wu nodded, leaning her face forward. Tears fell onto his palm, warm and real.

“A’Wu, don’t cry.” Chu Mingheng smiled slightly, curling his fingers as if to wipe her tears away, his voice gentle. “I fear your tears the most…”

“I fear your tears the most…”

His eyes slowly closed, seemingly unwilling yet powerless, his outstretched hand lingering as it groped emptily before finally falling.

“Chu Mingheng… Chu Mingheng… Chu Mingheng!” Lan Wu called his name again and again, her voice echoing through the desolate surroundings, heart-wrenching and blood-soaked with each word.

“Chu Mingheng—!!!”