The last golden needle was pulled out from the flesh, and both people were drenched in cold sweat amidst the fragrant medicinal mist. Zhuo Yu placed Mingde on the couch, and as he stood up himself, he felt his vision blur. By the time he came back to his senses, he had already fallen back into a sitting position.

The Qianwan Emperor abruptly stood up: "State Preceptor, how is it?"

He had already gained a deep understanding of Zhuo Yu's temperament, and even if he was anxious to the core, he would not utter a single heavy word again.

"I don't know."

Zhuo Yu slowly put away the golden needles, his voice so hoarse it seemed like his throat was about to crack, "He may wake up, or he may not; I don't know when he will wake up, and I also don't know if he will regain his senses after waking up... If the situation is good, coupled with proper care in the future, he may become no different from a normal person from now on."

The Qianwan Emperor only felt his heart gradually sinking: "Then if it's not good?"

Zhuo Yu's tone was surprisingly flat: "Then we'll deal with the aftermath."

The Qianwan Emperor silently collapsed beside the couch. Mingde lay on the bed, his brows slightly furrowed, as if recalling something oppressive and difficult to resolve in his dreams.

After resting for a while and catching his breath, Zhuo Yu smiled and asked, "Your Majesty, there's something I've always wanted to ask you. If I were you, I would rather keep an obedient and docile cat than a hedgehog that always raises its spines against its master. What do you think?"

The Qianwan Emperor said mildly, "He is a person."

His fingers slowly smoothed out Mingde's furrowed brows, tracing down his cheeks all the way to the corner of his lips, then lightly sliding over his chin. This emperor, who could regard the world and its rivers and mountains as worn-out shoes, turned out to still possess something he could cherish as a treasure in his heart.

Zhuo Yu suddenly recalled what Lu Jiuchen had said that night. He said: You are not even considered a person. In all his years of traversing the world, no one's words could enter Zhuo Yu's ears, except for Lu Jiuchen's. Every single word seemed to pierce right into his heart.

How was he not a person? As long as he felt happy, how was he not considered a person?

Zhuo Yu suddenly felt a surge of resentment. He abruptly stood up and sneered, "I'm afraid that when this person regains his senses, he will be in even more pain. Perhaps he will wish to return to a muddled state of ignorance, and he may even hate you for making this decision for him without his consent!—"

"I know what's best for him," the Qianwan Emperor calmly interrupted. "I watched him grow up to this age. What he himself doesn't understand, I can understand. The things he doesn't notice, I help him notice. I understand him better than he understands himself. I know what he wants, it's just that he... can't say it."

Zhuo Yu closed his eyes for a moment. He still felt very agitated inside, but after all, having reached his position, even if he lost his composure, he wouldn't truly make things difficult for others.

He turned and strode out the door, coldly throwing back a sentence: "Since that's the case, then I offer my premature congratulations on a speedy recovery!"

Mingde remained unconscious like this. As the date of the return from the southern tour approached, he still lay on the couch in a daze day after day, showing no signs of improvement, but also not worsening.

Every day, Zhuo Yu would pour some internal energy into him to regulate his meridians, and he wasn't the least bit anxious. Sometimes, looking at such a little beauty lying on the bed, he couldn't help but lazily smile and say, "You might as well just lie there, just like the paintings hanging in the room and the trinkets on display. At least you serve the purpose of being pleasing to the eye."

Mingde was in a daze, unaware of what was happening. Zhuo Yu quieted for a moment, listening to ensure no one was outside the room. Li Ji was playing chess with Lu Jiuchen outside and wouldn't come over for a while. In the wafting medicinal smoke, he smiled faintly, his eyes flashing with an indescribable mystery.

Mingde was not heavy. Zhuo Yu could lift him entirely with one hand and place him on his crossed legs. He raised two fingers like a blade and silently struck the vital acupoint on the back of Mingde's head.

Mingde suddenly sprang up, convulsing as if struck by an electric current. Before he could let out a scream, Zhuo Yu fiercely blocked his throat with one hand. He struggled desperately, but Zhuo Yu tightly grasped his two vital acupoints, and an extremely pungent internal energy continuously poured into him.

"...Ah!"

Mingde abruptly turned his head and grabbed Zhuo Yu's neck. The veins on his arms bulged completely, and his eyes were so ferocious, like a wild beast ready to devour someone. Zhuo Yu grunted, flipping him over and pressing him onto the bed. The two faced each other, glaring intensely, both panting and in a disheveled state.

"You... who are you?"

Zhuo Yu laughed coldly, "You still don't know who I am? Shangguan Mingde, there should be a limit to pretending to be crazy and playing dumb!"

Mingde stared at him blankly for a long time, then suddenly nodded and murmured, "That's right, you are Zhuo... Zhuo..."

The remaining word was stuck in his throat and couldn't come out no matter what. He lowered his head, painfully clutching his own head, his ten fingers fiercely digging into his messy hair. In the midst of the chaos, Zhuo Yu forcibly lifted his chin. The exotic and handsome young man before his eyes was cold and frosty, as if wearing a thousand-year-old black ice mask on his face.

Mingde wanted to close his eyes and not look, but Zhuo Yu forced him to keep his eyes open and stare at his own pupils. His pupils gradually took on a deep jade color, with strange and magnificent light swirling, as if there were small pieces of jadeite in his eyes.

Mingde gradually felt his limbs go weak, and his mind became muddled again. It seemed like he had been sleeping all along, refusing to remember or think, only knowing to eat and then sleep, sleep and then eat, barely maintaining the breathing of this frail body.

Now, Zhuo Yu had forcibly awakened his consciousness, like pulling a drowning person out of the water, but then immediately knocking him out with a punch.

Mingde opened his mouth, his voice weak and dazed, "...Who are you?"

"—Who am I?" Zhuo Yu laughed, momentarily seeming lofty and magnanimous.

"I am... I am your long-lost old acquaintance." He raised his hand, gently brushing away the waterfall-like hair in front of his eyes. On his temple, there was a nine-clawed azure dragon soaring symbol about the length of a finger, deeply imsymboled into the texture of his skin.

It was as if a mechanism had been triggered. The most subtle opportunity unleashed a flood of memories, overflowing like a broken dam. Mingde stared intently at the azure dragon symbol, his expression twisted in agony. At this moment, it wouldn't be surprising if he strangled his own neck and snapped it.

...The great fire burned, the thick smoke obscuring the sky. The azure dragon soared within the stone formation formation. Standing on the crumbling city walls, he overlooked the chaotic army and witnessed with his own eyes the miserable state of Prince Dongyang being strangled to death...

One dead city after another, the plague spreading with swirling black air, the war-torn land filled his eyes. Corpses were thrown into the water in piles, blocking the surging rivers...

Under the Tianshan Mountains, the cold wind raged. A lone rider with a single saber traversed thousands of miles, advancing all the way on a path of blood and bones, chasing the desperate bandits to their end. The brilliance of a single arrow fell into the ashes of ten thousand bones, yet what it determined was the splendor of the land, ultimately falling into the hands of others...

Those memories of Hanbei, the winter days of Moling above the Huai River, the gray-white official road with a lone crimson rider galloping a thousand miles without dust. Those past events that had been deeply hidden, deliberately forgotten by this cowardly soul, were now dug out by a few golden needles, brazenly announcing to the world.

That muddleheaded, foolish child thought he could hide in the lap of luxury, indulging in eating and sleeping for a lifetime. But someone had to wake him up and show him the bloody reality, giving him a cruel smile.

"What are you afraid of? What's there to be afraid of?" Zhuo Yu's expression was contemptuous, but his eyes were gentle. He lightly placed his hand on Mingde's shoulder. "There are so many ways to restore your senses, yet I chose to wake you up in the most painful way... In the hundreds of years of the Celestial People's clan, when have there ever been such cowardly descendants like you?"

His hand seemed to be able to transmit immense power. Mingde gradually calmed down, his gaze fixed on him in a daze.

"What's there to be afraid of," Zhuo Yu laughed softly, "I'm still here."

No matter how those people dispersed, in the highest and coldest position, he was always there.

It was as if a deity overlooking the mortal world. The change of dynasties and the shift of power could not shake his fierce majesty under his black robes.

From the twentieth year of the Qianwan Emperor onward, Zhuo Yu held power in the court; in the following years, his influence spread throughout the court and his name shook the world.

That night, Mingde slept very restlessly, as if he would wake up at any moment. The Qianwan Emperor was startled awake in the middle of the night. He abruptly sat up, only to see Mingde tightly curled up in the darkness, painfully tearing at his own hair.

"Mingde! Mingde!" the Qianwan Emperor held him tightly, ignoring his frantic biting during his struggle. "It's me, I'm here! Mingde, wake up!"

Mingde's whole body trembled. He wanted to howl, but no sound came out of his throat.

"I'm here..." the Qianwan Emperor's trembling hand caressed his face. "It's me, Li Ji, I'm here... I've waited for you... for a long time..."

Mingde's scattered gaze gradually focused on his face. After a long time, he hoarsely asked, "...Where is the Empress?"

The Qianwan Emperor's heart sank heavily.

"The Eastern Palace... I should be in the Eastern Palace... Where is this place?" Mingde pushed the Qianwan Emperor away and staggered to his feet, walking out. "Where is this? Where is this?... Who's here? I want to go back! I want to go back!—"

The Qianwan Emperor pounced on him, hugging him from behind. Mingde struggled frantically, kicking and hitting fiercely. He lowered his head and bit the Qianwan Emperor's arm that was across his chest, until the salty taste of blood welled up in his mouth.

"Mingde... Mingde... Look at me, don't you recognize me?... Look at me..."

Mingde turned his head in a daze to look at Li Ji. In the moonlight, this man didn't have any semblance of the majesty a supreme ruler should have. He was so disheveled, just like the patient and gentle man in his hazy memories.

Mingde frowned and asked softly, "Are you Li Ji?..."

The Qianwan Emperor nodded heavily.

"Then..." Mingde held his head, "...then who is the Emperor?"

The Qianwan Emperor was stunned.

Mingde knelt on the ground, his voice broken as if moaning.

"I... My mind is very confused... Let me think, let me think..."

He remained kneeling on the ground in this posture, with the Qianwan Emperor tightly embracing him. It was an intimate posture, as if they truly loved each other.

The Qianwan Emperor remained motionless. After an unknown amount of time, Mingde gradually softened his body and slowly sank into a daze before falling asleep.

"I've always wanted to ask you for a long time," the Qianwan Emperor stared at a certain point floating in the air in the darkness, his voice also drifting aimlessly, "...Mingde, I like you so much, what are you still afraid of? Are you afraid of me?"

A long, long time passed. The night had deepened. He even thought Mingde had already fallen asleep, but then he heard that voice from his arms, almost inaudible, as if seeping out from cracking ice.

"I'm afraid of that Emperor..."

"...Is the Emperor very bad?"

"Mm."

"What about me?"

Mingde thought for a long time again, as if in that moment of hesitation, several springs and winters had swiftly passed by.

"You... I'm not afraid of you, I like you..."