The Last X - 38 3.9

In his system space, Chen Yu coolly listened to the system’s alert.

[Warning, the host has elected to leave the task world before the mission was completed. The system issues a friendly reminder that if the total amount of emotions extracted from this world within 24 hours following the host’s departure is not equal to or greater than that of the original plot’s, this task will be deemed a failure.]

Following this public service announcement, a countdown appeared in front of him, along with a progress bar that was stopped at 37%.

Chen Yu laughed, creating a sofa from which to watch the results. This thrill, this unpredictability was exactly what he’d enjoyed the most in his first life. He might not have had the opportunity to revel in it to this extent if that male lead hadn’t irked him enough to pull this stunt.

Of course, in his lives as a minor character, most of his missions had been completed through his death, so this wasn’t a big deal. In fact, he’d very rationally considered various ways to go, ultimately judging that this scenario, in which the male lead destroyed his budding romance due to his paranoia, would be the most effective.

Nevertheless, because he’d retained some hope that Lu Guanting wouldn’t require this method, he’d devised a plan that wouldn’t happen without the male lead opting to sacrifice Zhang Hua for power. Now, since he’d had failed to live up to expectations, Chen Yu wouldn’t waste his time staying with him.

Soon, the progress bar spiked to 88%. Out of curiosity, Chen Yu instructed the system to break down the 51% increase. The majority of it was from that male lead, no surprise there, but a whole 8% from Yuan Niu? En…it seemed that guard had mentioned who had concealed Zhang Hua’s original letter, so that male lead was probably venting on the girl…

Chen Yu rolled his eyes. One set up the foolish trick, the other foolishly fell for the trick, both were so stupid, truly suited for each other.

The important thing was what to do about that remaining 12%.

Although he’d installed a fail-safe, who knew if it would kick in before the deadline? Chen Yu contemplated it for a moment, then shrugged. Well, if it didn’t, he’d go through two more missions. If it did, his quota would absolutely be met.

After all, people were always uselessly sentimental after someone had died.

—

Lu Guanting was born from a palace maid who became pregnant after being forced into the previous emperor’s bed. Despite this trauma, his mother tried to restrain her hatred for her child, going so far as to suppress her revulsion toward the emperor to seek imperial favor. Her efforts were successful, the emperor titled her a consort and indeed grew fond of this son. In this way, Lu Guanting rose to become one of the top contenders for the position of crown prince, even without a strong maternal family’s support.

Initially, Lu Guanting had no particular interest in the throne. Having grown up constantly hearing his mother’s warnings about how tall trees attract the wind, he merely wished to idly waste away his days as a carefree prince.

But witnessing how his mother was forced to submit to that disgusting emperor for over a decade in order to protect him, a seed of ambition sprouted, which exploded at age fourteen, when his mother succumbed to a simple cold. Over time, the emperor’s favor had gradually diminished, so that the servants, having been bribed by various parties in the harem, neglected their care. They provided only the basic food and medicine, until, whether through poison or neglect, their mistress died.

Gripping his mother’s lifeless hand, Lu Guanting had engraved a resolution into his bones. He would seize this palace, this throne, these very lives, regardless of what it took, and he would never let them go.

In the end, he carried it off with far less trouble than he’d anticipated.

Within two years, he earned a high enough reputation to marry the left prime minister’s daughter; ten years after that, he disposed of that sickening father of his. As emperor, he dutifully defended himself, eliminating his wife, limiting his son, rotating through his concubines.

For a long time, Consort Jing was just another pawn, even he didn’t know how he became his beloved in truth. Was it when he’d glimpsed his figure indolently cooling off under the moonlight? Or was it when he’d watched him elegantly dismantle every trap, kissed him in the lake, faced his stubborn temper…

There were too many possibilities in the past, and none in the future.

Lingering on his memories, Lu Guanting fastidiously scrubbed the blood off of Zhang Hua’s cheeks, murmuring, “Beloved, don’t worry, I’ll make sure every hand that pushed you here will be destroyed.”

Unnoticed by him, in the dingy cell beside his, Yuan Niu’s fingers were being slowly crushed, each small bone meticulously shattered.

Yuan Niu ached to scream, to at least make the man she’d done this for pay attention to her pain, but her tongue-less mouth could barely grunt.

Still, Lu Guanting frowned. Annoyed at the sounds that might disturb his beloved, without glancing up, he ordered that those lips be sewed shut. The prison became quiet again, only vague crunching and splashing sounds occasionally breaking the silence.

Thus, half a day passed.

Yuan Niu’s torso lay on the ground. Despite the pain of her legs and arms being sliced off chunk by chunk, her eyes were tenaciously opened wide, because whenever she fell unconscious from the pain, she’d be sprayed awake with salt water. Even her hatred for the consort had dulled. Maybe, if she hadn’t clung on to the proof of her little victory over that conceited man, she wouldn’t have ended up like this…

Finally, when Yuan Niu was just about dead, Lu Guanting roused himself. This wouldn’t do, his beloved couldn’t stay in such a filthy place.

He lurched up stiffly, carrying Zhang Hua in his arms, and stepped to the consort’s suite. But opening the doors, the disheveled clothes and overturned furniture reminded him yet again of how he’d failed Zhang Hua, even ordering guards to search through his belongings, so that he stumbled back, closing his eyes.

Eventually, he chose to take him to the emperor’s bedroom.

Settling him on the dragon bed, Lu Guanting used hot towels to wipe down Zhang Hua, then laboriously dressed him in his favorite white gown. Once the body appeared nearly whole again, he contentedly moved to lie next to him, but he happened to catch a glimpse of his own wild appearance, making him shamefully rush to clean up as well. When he untied his robes, a piece of paper unexpectedly slipped out of a fold and drifted to the ground.

In Zhang Hua’s script, it read, “If it is with you, I would be willing to live in the Lunar Palace…”

Lu Guanting stared uncomprehendingly at the letter for several moments.

How could this be here? With hopeful eyes, he turned toward the bed, but Zhang Hua was still as he had arranged him.

Realizing that his beloved must have tucked this into his clothes when they’d last lain together, before he’d ordered Zhang Hua’s imprisonment, he knelt and cradled the note, bowing his head. His heart felt as if it had been torn apart, but he couldn’t even cry aloud, remembering how Zhang Hua had silently, stoically endured hours of suffering. Suffering that he’d inflicted, and for what?

If he’d just trusted Zhang Hua, if he’d just loved him enough…

Lu Guanting understood that although Zhang Hua must have agreed to become empress partly due to the general’s demand, he wouldn’t have yielded if he was absolutely averse to the idea. Unbeknownst to him, his beloved had consented to give up so much to stand next to him. If Zhang Hua hadn’t loved him, he had at least resolved to support him, to depend on him. And he had repaid him like this.

Lu Guanting covered his face. He couldn’t bear it, he wanted to hold on to Zhang Hua and beg for forgiveness, swear that he would make it up to him, exchange his remaining life for one smile, but everything was impossible. The only thing he could do was avenge his beloved.

At the thought, Lu Guanting’s eyes turned chilly.

The moment that he’d been given the two letters, he’d put together what must have happened.

Hearing the rumors that Consort Jing had fallen out of favor with the emperor, Zhang Jia, which had been delaying their plans for rebellion in case they could safely gain influence by pushing its descendant onto the phoenix seat, had decided to resort to its original plan of seizing the throne. At that time, despite the fact that Zhang Hua had been unhappy with the emperor, he had still tried to refuse implicitly by advising them to “stay warmly inside.”

But somehow, that maid, Yuan something, had managed to prepare an identical note without the second half of the message. Perhaps Zhang Hua had hesitated a bit and kept the letter on his desk for a day or two, in any case, the maid then revealed her forged copy to the emperor, planting doubt in his mind. Luckily, however, the same day she’d sent her version of the letter to the general, the emperor had publicly reconciled with the consort, so despite believing that the consort would cooperate, Zhang Jia had backed off. Their new order had been a half-threatening entreaty for Zhang Hua to grasp the phoenix seat.

In short, Zhang Jia had retracted its aim to overthrow the emperor, and Zhang Hua hadn’t intended to do so from the start.

Yet, he had senselessly been misled into killing his beloved with his own hands.

Lu Guanting sneered.

Zhang Jia would be dealt with, but first, he’d take care of the people who’d orchestrated this. While he could nearly guarantee who they were, in order to be certain, he would investigate thoroughly.

Since that maid in the cell scarcely had any useful information, he threw her out and moved on to the group that had been speculating in the garden about Consort Jing.

As he’d calculated, questioning these concubines quickly produced results. According to their confessions, the servant who’d ferried plans back and forth belonged to a consort who’d been close to the deceased empress. It didn’t have to be said that the crown prince was obviously involved, and, factoring in his immaturity, that the left prime minister must have been the one advising him.

Having returned to the emperor’s bedroom, Lu Guanting brushed out the tangles in Zhang Hua’s hair, determining that he couldn’t drag things out. His beloved’s body wouldn’t be able to stay this way for long.

Thus, the capital city was washed in blood that same day.

Any concubines who’d ever insulted Zhang Hua were killed, the left prime minister’s estate was destroyed, Zhang Jia was directly banned from participating in imperial examinations or military campaigns for the next three generations. In this cutthroat place, this was more than enough time for the entire family to lose all influence.

As for the crown prince, he wasn’t strong enough or smart enough to begin with, but now he’d been permanently injured, his hands broken irreparably. On top of that, Lu Guanting swiftly passed an imperial edict that would limit the emperor’s control, instead enhancing the authority of the prime ministers and the six ministers below them. The crown prince couldn’t defy this order without being unfilial, so he would live suppressed by various subjects, unable to enjoy any of the sovereignty he’d dreamed of holding.

Lu Guantiang was well aware of what this move signified. Imperial prestige would suffer an enormous decline, possibly disintegrate entirely. But he’d sacrificed Zhang Hua for this power, perhaps Zhang Hua would forgive him if he destroyed it himself…

Having taken care of those people, Lu Guanting left the emperor’s study, ignoring the ministers outside who were protesting his tyrannical actions against Zhang Jia and the left prime minister. Those officials’ calls for justice were worth nothing. Although they complained now, as soon as his edict was announced, they would praise his wisdom and benevolence.

Lifting Zhang Hua up again from the dragon bed, he blocked off any servants and walked to the lake, where he’d first started dwelling on his beloved, where he’d first uncontrollably embraced his beloved, where he would rest together with his beloved.

Lying sideways with Zhang Hua resting on his shoulder, he withdrew a dagger, from which he’d removed the hilt. Ignoring his palm that had been sliced open, he swiftly pierced the blunt end through one wrist into the ground then skewered the other on the sharp tip, locking his beloved in his arms forever.

While the blood poured out of his veins, soaking into the land and dyeing the couple’s robes red, Lu Guanting didn’t seem to feel any pain, his face was full of satisfaction.

Indeed, their end should come together. His beloved had been waiting for him in their palace for more than a day now, he must be getting impatient having no one to allow his laziness. Lu Guanting smiled. He had to hurry, he couldn’t handle Zhang Hua when he was angry, after all.

—

Thousands of years later, Emperor Taihe became a controversial figure in history.

He’d undoubtedly revolutionized the imperial governmental system, but he had also committed a horrendous massacre before his suicide. Moreover, his edict seemed to be motivated by a desire to recompense his wrongfully executed consort, whereas an emperor who genuinely prioritized the common people’s welfare would have acted differently, or at least for different reasons.

It was a pity that there were not many emperors who were so generous.

Nonetheless, there was one point that all scholars agreed on: Lu Guanting was the only emperor recorded to have followed a consort in death.

For this alone, among the common people, he became a legendary symbol of self-sacrificing love.