Zekin's fate seemed to have been sealed long ago.

Like Qianyuan, he had no way out.

Even if the kingdom wins, he will never allow himself to enjoy the spoils of war on the land his beloved has loved.

If he were to lose, he could not abandon his people and live on alone.

Fortunately, he carried out the plan as intended, said goodbye to his lover properly, protected her most important family members, and then went into battle without any worries, facing death with courage.

He was worthy of his country and his people.

There is still some regret...

We only met for a few days, it was too short, too short.

He existed for over 6,900 days and nights, but only met Qianyuan for a mere fourteen days.

How could Zejin not curse the injustice of fate and the cruel tricks of destiny?

In the deserted palace, the collapsed palace was being reduced to ashes by fire, while Zejin remained in the crumbling high-rise, coldly watching himself and the Western Regions perish together.

He was the only one who calmly and quietly wiped the wolf knife in his arms, and then looked at the letters sent by Qian Yuan placed in front of him.

He knew the nuances of every stroke of the pen, the tone of every sentence, by heart.

This is the only emotion and solace Qianyuan left with him.

It's such a pity that they didn't actually get married under the witness of God, frolic on horseback, or sit in the open air in the desert by the campfire, gazing at the beautiful stars...

He hasn't yet taken his lover to his hometown.

A gust of wind blew by, swirling up the yellowed letter paper, which was instantly licked by the flames and burned to ashes.

Just like his place in Qianyuan's heart.

Even though he had left a mark on Qian Yuan's heart, he was reluctant to magnify it infinitely, unwilling to let Qian Yuan be unable to let go, and unwilling to let the little prince feel sad because of him.

But just thinking that perhaps later Emperor Chongle would see Qianyuan's sadness and, in order to help him forget himself and get over his pain, would actually choose a son of a subject or a young nobleman who could serve others with his good looks...

There might not just be one, but a whole group...

Zejin felt his jealousy about to erupt.

It's all Emperor Chongle's fault. He spared his life and continued to mock him while treating his wounds: "Someone like you is only worthy of my son's attention because he's blind. My son has the appearance of an immortal and a position above all others. Even if he likes men, there would be a line of men willing to throw themselves at him from the city gates to the grasslands. You're really climbing the social ladder."

Zejin exhaled a breath of pent-up frustration, feeling that he couldn't die with his eyes wide open in death.

He thought to himself, "I should leave something behind."

Qianyuan liked his eyes at first sight, so let him dig them out and make them a true part of Qianyuan's collection.

If one could wear it on the chest of their beloved, that would be the greatest honor for them.

So he can be said to be forever by Qianyuan's side, able to watch over everyone who gets close to his beloved...

Zejin (the corrupted version) curled the corners of his lips into a smile.

Since he had been lying low here, suppressing his desires, he couldn't just give up his lover so easily.

No matter what means or methods are used, if only people could have an afterlife, or at least not have to take his soul away, so he could stay by Qianyuan's side forever...

With that thought in mind, Zejin raised his hand and brought down the knife.

Just then, a pure white dragon, covered in stardust, flew in.

The wind was gentle, and the drizzle carried by the breeze extinguished the flames in the palace.

The little guy transformed into human form and nearly tripped in his haste. He didn't care about anything else, lifted his shirt, and ran barefoot to Zejin.

The moment he saw Zejin raise his knife, Qianyuan was so panicked that he lost his voice and couldn't shout at all.

But without him saying a word, Zejin knew in a flash that it was him.

So Zejin's knife no longer aimed for his eyes, but instead stabbed directly into his own waist and abdomen.

He wouldn't get covered in blood in front of his lover, as that would frighten his precious little prince.

He also couldn't let Qianyuan witness his self-harm.

Therefore, he had to regretfully cancel his previous idea and could only choose the slowest way to die.

However, this way, the black clothes concealed his gruesome, constantly bleeding wounds.

From a distance, Zejin leaned leisurely against the window frame, pear blossoms falling gently and landing on his clothes, as if he were already at the end of time, waiting for Qianyuan until they grew old together.

A sense of destiny endlessly revolves around this moment.

Qianyuan had been holding her breath as she approached him, but when she got behind Zejin, she deliberately slowed her breathing.

Because he remembered Zejin saying that when he was silent, he would fall asleep counting Qianyuan's breathing.

This was the only remedy he could use to comfort himself when he felt lonely and in pain.

Therefore, Qianyuan wanted to give Zejin a good night's sleep.

"Your Highness..."

Zejin opened his eyes and looked at him with a somewhat blank gaze.

Qian Yuan saw this scene and seemed to recall something. He caught his breath, walked over, hugged Ze Jin, and kissed his gradually cooling lips.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, it doesn't hurt anymore... I'm here to be with you."

The little one gently coaxed him, as if coaxing a fragile child; at that moment, their roles seemed to have been reversed.

Qianyuan said in a low voice:

"How about I be the hero and save you next time? I also want to protect you, to keep you from pain, and to not diminish the courage and love you showed on your journey to find me."

Zejin opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but could only utter a few breaths. He stared at Qianyuan, his pupils gradually dilating and fading...

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