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In the first year, when Princess Liqian first met the so-called “Gentleman,” he stood tall and righteous, upholding justice. She sneered: “A false gentleman.”

In the third year, during the struggle for the heir to the throne, she lost everything by a single misstep, ready to die with her eyes closed—yet he alone stepped forward, risking his life and family to escort her safely back to the capital. She scoffed: “Still counts as a gentleman.”

In the fifth year, after a coup, she ascended the throne as empress. She bestowed upon him high office, wealth, noble marriage, and beauty—he rejected them all. She frowned slightly: “Truly a gentleman.”

In the tenth year, she awoke one morning aching all over, and cursed the man lying beside her through gritted teeth: “So much for being a gentleman!”

…

…

“Three things can make the empire great again: the sword, your servant, and the teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.”

That’s what he said to the Empress.

When Zhao Rong opened his eyes, he found himself in a bridal chamber decorated with red candles and festive paper-cut windows.

Right in front of him, on the wedding bed, sat a bride in a phoenix coronet and ceremonial robe, her head covered with a red veil.

Zhao Rong rubbed his sleepy eyes. Wait, I’ve become a groom? Oh, a live-in son-in-law, at that. Got it.

He adjusted his facial expression, preparing to give a crooked smile. Hold on… huh? Something’s off.

The bride is my childhood sweetheart! And she secretly loves me? Oh, in that case, everything’s fine. This feels just right.

Zhao Rong happily stepped forward and lifted the red veil. Hey, hey, wife, why are you running away?

In a chaotic era, as the tides of the times swept forward, scholar Zhao Rong stepped up to face them. Not only did he need to chase after the footsteps of his childhood sweetheart, the Sword Immortal wife, but he also wanted to witness firsthand the great debates of the Hundred Schools that engulfed much of the cultivation world…