Outside the window, neon lights rose and fell. The city's nighttime sky was purple, carrying the clamor of the human world and the fantasies of life—a sight Li Wenchuan had never seen in his previous life.
The glass reflected Li Wenchuan's blurred face. Cars passed along the road outside, their phantom-like shadows flashing by as though they had pulled time back a thousand years. The figure in the glass shifted into Qingming Emperor Li Wenchuan, dressed in black robes and a golden crown.
The scenery around him changed into Chang'an Imperial City, where scheming eaves and winding corridors intertwined.
Li Wenchuan had traveled as much of Great Qing's territory as he could, seen stars hanging over endless plains, watched the sun set over long rivers, and experienced every warmth and coldness of human relationships. Though his original reason had merely been to see the mountains, rivers, lakes, seas, customs, and people his mother often spoke of.
His mother, Consort Yang, had been the daughter of an ordinary merchant. In an era that "valued agriculture and suppressed commerce," such a status had undoubtedly left the prince she bore without even a place in line for the throne.
Fourth Prince Li Wenchuan had been destined from birth to remain a peripheral figure in the struggle for imperial power.
Li Wenchuan himself had thought so too. He rarely saw his imperial father, and even when he did, his father never asked about his studies or his life. Instead, he would hold up some newly refined pill and ask, "Will you eat it?"
That middle-aged, increasingly plump man had always harbored an unreliable dream of becoming immortal. He kept a large number of alchemists, built grand Daoist temples, and elevated a Daoist priest to the position of Imperial Preceptor. The court and common people alike followed suit.
But Li Wenchuan thought his father surely had not become immortal. Otherwise, given that man's personality, he would have come over to ramble at him on the day he kicked the bucket.
A superstitious father and a lowly mother—this had once been everything Li Wenchuan, and even everyone else, believed.
Until that night, cool and gentle as water, much like tonight. A full moon hung high overhead. The prince's residence reeked of nauseating blood, scarlet liquid soaking the blue bricks while guards methodically carried away corpses.
"Your Highness, look. Even if you stay still and refuse to fight for anything, no one will believe you." The speaker skillfully wiped the knife wound on Li Wenchuan's arm with clean water, picked away the grotesquely shredded flesh with a dagger, then poured strong liquor over it. "No poison. Your Highness should be grateful that none of the princes in this generation are any good at fighting."
Li Wenchuan clenched his teeth as cold sweat slid down his forehead. After a long while, he said, "You have overstepped."
Yet the other man showed no intention of restraining himself. "Your Highness is simply too kind."
After bandaging the wound, he set down his tools and snorted. "Has Your Highness forgotten what happened on the Hexi Ancient Road two years ago?"
That sudden bandit attack had nearly cost Li Wenchuan his life.
"Your Highness doesn't truly think they were just bandits, do you?"
Li Wenchuan opened his mouth, but the gatekeeper came to report that someone had arrived from the palace.
The messenger eunuch was Kong Mingde, the Qingming Emperor's chief eunuch. Standing beneath the moonlight, his face, already powdered white, looked even paler—like a ghostly emissary from hell. He smiled broadly, his expression pleasant but his tone leaving no room for refusal. "Fourth Prince, His Majesty wishes to see you in the palace."
There, he would find his powerful imperial father and his mother, who held dominion over the harem. Everything would be turned upside down.
Before leaving, he turned to the man bowing behind him and asked, "Cheng Yu, handle the aftermath at the residence..."
Jiang Chengyu lowered his head even further, yet understood every one of Li Wenchuan's intentions. He replied respectfully, "We will await Your Highness's return."
Those words had been as solemn as a promise. No matter what happened afterward, Jiang Chengyu had silently stood at his side. People came and went through the prince's residence, and people came and went beside the throne. Only Jiang Chengyu had remained unchanged.
When everything had been overturned and no one could be trusted, it was a loneliness rarely found in this world.
Yet even so, there had been someone waiting for him. How precious that had been.
Li Wenchuan gave a cold laugh and covered his eyes with one hand. Those scenes from the past instantly scattered away. The passing years had been one great dream. Perhaps he had been too greedy.
"Li Wenchuan, what's wrong?" He Meng asked worriedly.
This artist had faced endless abuse over the years. She truly feared that something had gone wrong with his mental or physical health.
The terrifying part of online violence was that people believed the truth they wanted to believe and excluded dissenters. Even when the real truth surfaced, all it received were a few casual remarks like, "Oh, got it," "Then sorry about that," or "Why didn't you say so earlier? Can you blame others?" There was no comfort in any of it.
"Nothing. I just thought of a few things."
"What's your relationship with Jiang Hansheng? He spoke up for you just now."
Amid the chaos of online public opinion, Jiang Hansheng's normally silent Weibo had suddenly made a statement: "We were on the way. Please do not maliciously speculate." He Meng could not make sense of it.
After all, although Jiang Hansheng was well-known, he did not rely on traffic and popularity. The résumé he had built through his abilities did not need traffic to sustain it. He rarely posted on Weibo, and his fans basically survived on content produced by his studio.
Thus, that post became another trending topic, and netizens cried out, "Grandma, the idol you follow updated his Weibo!"
Fortunately, most of Jiang Hansheng's fans had been sensible career fans throughout the years. They remained appropriately calm about Li Wenchuan's matter, and after seeing their idol speak up, they became even more laid-back. Wherever they had come from, they returned there and went back to lounging around.
Seeing that Li Wenchuan had not shamelessly tried to latch onto him either, they felt their artist seemed rather decent. The atmosphere was harmonious all around.
After browsing the comments online, Li Wenchuan's eyes darkened. He pressed his lips together and said nothing more.
He Meng was delighted by this situation. There was buzz without attracting hate, so her little heart could keep functioning normally. If she had drawn the great movie emperor's haters, she would have announced her own retirement from the industry on the spot.
"Still, you did very well today. You managed to win back a bit of your reputation. If you had always been this capable, would things have ended up like this?"
That was truly difficult to answer. Li Wenchuan vaguely replied, "Maybe I wasn't short on money before."
"You say that as if you can be much poorer now than you were back then."
"..." That hit right in the heart, sis.
"I'm heading back first. Don't post on Weibo casually for now. Wait for my arrangements," He Meng said as she packed up her things.
As an outstanding manager with foresight, He Meng saw tonight's popularity as a stairway upward. Her fighting spirit reignited, and she decided to regain her confidence and gradually fill up her artist's schedule.
But when she turned around, she saw Li Wenchuan sprawled across the sofa like some lord. Not only was he failing at expression management, he was failing at posture management too.
He Meng: Keep it up, Little Meng. You can do it, you've got this QAQ.
"You..."
That lord turned his head. "Hm?" Is there something?
"No..." Cat shaking head.jpg.
After He Meng left, Li Wenchuan opened his phone's contact list.
The original owner had actually attended university, though he had suspended his studies before graduating for various reasons. After so long, he had probably been automatically expelled. Following his memories, he found the category—Imperial Capital University—and sent a message.
The other party was extremely shocked upon receiving it and began talking nonstop.
"I don't know what happened back then either. You should try to let it go. Life still has to go on."
"Have you never considered coming back? You really were suited to our major. But if you came back now, wouldn't it be a bit difficult?"
"No matter what you need from me, just say it. I'll help however I can."
"I want you to help me find something."
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