From beginning to end, I was only focused on one thing: I held that wrinkled osmanthus flower between my fingertips, rubbed the wilted petals with my fingertips, and even my knuckles turned white.

Without the slightest hesitation in his tone: Is there still a chance to see the Regent?

Haoyue was so coaxed by me that she looked completely dependent on me. Her little paws patted the table gently, and even the two osmanthus petals stuck to her fur swayed with them.

Like two small, moving crescent moons adorned with pearls, even the silver bells trembled and made delicate, tinkling sounds.

When it heard the last sentence, its fluffy head visibly paused, and its round ears "whoosh" stood up into small arcs before quickly drooping down again.

The tuft of white down on its ear tips had all wilted, and it had even forgotten to shake the silver bell around its neck. Its paws were frozen in mid-air, pawing at a osmanthus leaf, squeezing the leaf out of shape.

It was as if they hadn't expected me to bypass the bizarre allure of "immortality" and "miraculous encounters," and instead fixate on this one crucial question.

He asked questions with even more persistence than he had when he chased after her for candied fruit or asked her about her marksmanship.

The once cheerful mechanical voice froze, then lowered its voice listlessly, its paws unconsciously scratching at the osmanthus leaves on the edge of the table, grinding the leaves into fine patterns.

Even her breathing became softer: "The System Bureau only has the ability to travel through time and space; it can't be considered a god."

Qin Qianluo was no ordinary person; her soul carried the imprint of another world. The 'disappearance' she experienced back then was, in fact, her own calamity…

I have no idea where she is, and I can't say for sure if you'll ever run into her again...

It all depends on luck, on whether your souls can stumble upon that unbroken old bond amidst countless worlds.

I pondered these words slowly in my mind.

It didn't say "cannot," nor "has vanished," and even clearly pointed out "soul," "mark," "calamity," and "old karmic connection," only saying in a roundabout way, "it depends on luck."

The meaning couldn't be clearer: as long as you accept those tasks and travel to the millions of different worlds described, there will still be a chance.

Even if the chance is as slim as a glimmer of light in the dark night, even if it means overcoming countless difficulties and hardships, even if it means repeatedly hitting walls in an unfamiliar world.

It's better than spending your time in Zhaoning Kingdom, surrounded by osmanthus blossoms, waiting from youth to old age, watching wild grass grow from the cracks in the palace walls, and finally turning into a handful of yellow earth.

Even my thoughts of her have been blown away by the wind, and I'm about to abandon the marksmanship she taught me.

Without much hesitation, I agreed.

Saying I'm worried about Haoyue is the honest truth from the bottom of my heart.

After decades of living together, its simple nature has not changed at all; it can even get itself stuck in the gaps between osmanthus leaves when plucking one.

Even when the servant got a new blue and white porcelain tea canister, he would lie on the table and stare at it for a long time, making sure to remember the lotus scroll pattern on the canister and the "Made in the Chenghua Period" mark on the bottom.

They didn't even miss the fine marks at the silver rim joint. Then they rushed over to tell me, "The tea canister has been changed. From now on, when you look for Longjing tea, look for the new pattern so you don't get the wrong one."

If the next host is wicked, it can coax it with promises like "ten years of good deeds in exchange for you to stay with me for ten years, and I'll even brew you pre-Qingming Longjing tea every day."

Scare it with the threat that "if you don't obey, I'll throw you into a useless system library, and you'll never see your host again, not even have any osmanthus leaves to pluck."

Given its honest and simple nature, it's likely to be bullied to the point that even the silver bell around its neck will cry itself hoarse, and even the osmanthus petals secretly hidden in its downy fur will be taken away.

She didn't even dare to mention the name "Qin Qianluo" anymore, and could only shrink into a corner and secretly lick her paws.

And the suspicion that had been lingering in my mind for more than a decade was vaguely confirmed by these words.

The regent is indeed still alive, but he is no longer the one from the Zhaoning era who wore a black court robe and helped me review memorials until late at night.

Qin Qianluo, who would shove the heater into my frozen hands, whose fingertips always carried the scent of pine soot and ink, and whose eyes would curve into a shallow arc when she smiled.

But so what? I sought her not to make her my regent again, not to protect me, and certainly not to repay any debt of gratitude.

He simply wanted to stand properly in front of her, even if she had changed her appearance, wore different clothes, and forgotten Zhao Ning's autumn.

Forget about me, the little princess who always pestered her for candied fruit, wanted her to teach her marksmanship, and always held the gun barrel crookedly; I also want to say thank you, which I've kept hidden for decades.

Xie entered the Cold Palace on a snowy night, stepping through the ankle-deep snow, snowflakes falling softly from her black cloak.

She knelt down and wrapped me, who was shivering from the cold and curled up in a ball, in her cloak that smelled of pine soot and ink.

He wiped the snowflakes off my face with his fingertips, the calluses on his fingertips tickling my cheeks, but his voice was as warm as tea that had just been warmed on a stove: "Don't be afraid, your Crown Prince brother is not here."

I thank her for holding my hand and teaching me to write the character "稳" (steady). As the brush tip glided across the rice paper, the ink spread out in shallow circles.

She placed her hand on the back of my hand with a little pressure and said softly, "Being a person is like writing; the pen must be steady, and the heart must be even more steady, so that you won't stumble and can protect the people you want to protect."

She paved the way for the Zhaoning Empire, withstood the pressure from the court and the public, and was not afraid of even the threats from princes, relatives, and noble families, saying, "The empire belongs to the people, not to any one family."

During the military reorganization, he personally went to the border and ate freeze-dried rations for three months. He practiced shooting in the snow until his fingertips cracked from the cold.

During the agricultural boom, he traversed the paddy fields of Jiangnan, getting his feet covered in mud and his skirt soaked through, but he didn't care. He worked so hard that fine lines appeared at the corners of his eyes and his temples turned gray.

But she gave me the most tender years.

I remember I don't like drinking strong Longjing tea, so I always ask people to change the tea on the third infusion, saying, "The tea is freshest at this time, neither bitter nor bland, just right to soothe the throat. Drinking too strong tea will hurt your stomach."

I remember I was afraid of the dark, so when I was reviewing memorials, I would always ask the eunuch to move my bed to the outer room of the study. He would come to check on me quietly every half hour at night and tuck me in.

To prevent me from kicking off the covers and getting cold, they would turn up the bedside lamp before leaving.

My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!