ABST Chapter 104

Within the Sea of Consciousness.

 

Gong Du had been half-asleep and half-awake for many days. Rarely having some energy, he moved a few steps on the sofa, picked up the thick notebook and pen set aside for a long time, flipped past the Violet and Sunflower scripts, and drew three horizontal lines on the blank Noble Orchid paper.

 

Then drew a downward arrow.

 

At the two-thirds mark, he circled a circle and marked it as important.

 

Little Light Orb came over. “Script?”

 

Gong Du tossed the pen aside lazily. “Mm.”

 

“…Not writing anymore?” Little Light Orb was incredulous, comparing these few strokes on this page with the thick scripts from the previous two worlds. “What does this mean?”

 

Gong Du said, “You don’t want to know.”

 

Little Light Orb: “…”

 

“Having decline syndrome is really tiring.” Gong Du lay flat, tone indifferent. The black energy throughout his body nearly overflowed the Sea of Consciousness. “I’m unhappy—no one else should be happy either.”

 

Little Light Orb worried and wanted to persuade him to look on the bright side.

 

Then it heard Gong Du say, “I’m this miserable—they all must see it.

 

—All the fortune value is mine.”

 

The prolonged half-sleeping state was extremely tormenting. The black energy accumulating at the bottom of Gong Du’s heart grew more and more. His temperament underwent subtle changes. He felt his previous thought of not wanting fortune value was simply foolish.

 

After just this short while, Gong Du was sleepy again. Half-squinting at Little Light Orb, he smiled and said eerily, “Know how to destroy a person?”

 

“I’m best at it. Want me to teach you?”

 

Little Light Orb: !!! A sick god is so terrifying!

 

Frightened, it silently bristled and rapidly floated aside.

 

After thoroughly scaring it, Gong Du dispersed quite a bit of the malicious elements accumulated from discomfort at the bottom of his heart.

 

The decline of Lian Shenwei’s body had already begun—irreversible, wouldn’t stop. Death was something destined long ago.

 

Originally thought at the beginning that Feng Ke couldn’t diagnose it. Unexpectedly, he actually detected a slight change.

 

But it didn’t matter.

 

Even if detected, there was no way to cure it.

 

The youngest of the protagonist group, Ying Jingjue, could now be considered grown up. A sapling in growth—only by withstanding violent storms could it grow into a great tree.

 

…

 

Because of the two days without blood, Li Ningfeng’s treatment progress was slower than originally predicted. By the time maple leaves dyed the forest in layers and withered yellow leaves scattered everywhere, they finally saw the end of treatment approaching.

 

The capital’s atmosphere grew more tense day by day.

 

Everyone paid extreme attention to news from Zichen Hall.

 

The Emperor dozed drowsily, conscious time growing less and less. Lian Shenwei maintained a “neutral” attitude. He wasn’t as skillfully at ease as everyone imagined—after all, not truly watching tigers fight from the mountain.

 

Controlling the situation on one hand while handling memorials by proxy on the other, during this period he had almost no free time, often going nights without sleep.

 

The Emperor’s coffin had been prepared two months ago. Besides Ying Jingjue and the unmarried Second Princess in the palace, the First Prince and Third Prince performed extremely filially during this time.

 

Of course, when the Emperor was occasionally conscious.

 

Emperor Jingcheng knew his days were numbered. In these final days, whether from guilt or wanting to make amends, during conscious periods he often called Ying Jingjue to accompany him.

 

He tried hard to return the father-son relationship to the beginning at Fudu Manor—dependent and affectionate. Unfortunately, years of deliberate distance had long become a rift that could never be crossed.

 

“Father Emperor always speaks of the past, but your son had a serious illness and forgot everything cleanly—doesn’t even remember Mother’s appearance.”

 

Ying Jingjue tasted the medicine for Emperor Jingcheng, tested that the temperature was right, then fed it over.

 

Emperor Jingcheng often felt pain in his sleep. Ying Jingjue tried to seek Master Fu Biao to ask if there was a solution. Master Fu Biao gave him a bottle of Mengpo Powder, saying putting some in the medicine could calm the spirit.

 

The medicine he fed over, Emperor Jingcheng tremblingly drank mouthful by mouthful.

 

A hand not quite aged covered Ying Jingjue’s hand. Emperor Jingcheng smiled, weakly opening his mouth. “I rarely mention your mother before you. You… have anything you want to ask?”

 

He used “I,” speaking to his son in the capacity of a father.

 

Ying Jingjue lowered his eyes. “Your son asked in childhood—was too clingy, provoking Father Emperor’s fury and receiving a slap.”

 

Empress Wenrui—

 

His birth mother.

 

In the palace, she seemed to be taboo.

 

After receiving that slap, he never again asked about his mother—didn’t even know his mother’s surname or name.

 

Emperor Jingcheng didn’t know about the inner palace’s scheming. Not taking initiative to care about Ying Jingjue, naturally he also didn’t know how much gossip Ying Jingjue grew up hearing.

 

He only knew his mother was a commoner woman.

 

“Your mother… your mother, Jingjue, even if you can’t remember, don’t forget her. I wronged her… this lifetime, I’ve owed too many people.”

 

“You must remember her more.”

 

Emperor Jingcheng gasped a few breaths. Not knowing if the medicine was taking effect, his voice was very light.

 

“Your mother and I met among common people. She was such a gentle and special woman—loved plum blossoms, loved watching snow, loved her younger brother most. You couldn’t compare—you even got jealous.”

 

“You should often go see your mother. Snow… the southern tour was good. The southern tour… was good. Jinling is also good.” What he said sounded confused. Ying Jingjue remained silent throughout, not knowing if he listened.

 

Emperor Jingcheng’s rambling voice gradually stopped.

 

“Child, I’m sorry.”

 

Ying Jingjue’s eyelashes trembled.

 

“Father Emperor, you are the Son of Heaven. The Son of Heaven cannot be wrong.”

 

Emperor Jingcheng struggled to keep his eyes open looking at him. “…I’m sorry, Jingjue. Can you call me Father once?”

 

“Just once is fine.”

 

The young heir apparent’s hands hanging at both sides slowly tightened.

 

How could he not hear the pleading and guilt in Emperor Jingcheng’s words? During his grave illness, only this son of his came whenever called. Thinking of his deceased wife, he showed such a gentle and loving attitude.

 

Could all these years of cold neglect and constant reprimands be canceled out with just one apology?

 

Ying Jingjue’s nose tingled with emotion. His heart had already softened, but his mouth remained stubborn, hard as a clamshell.

 

He set down the medicine bowl: “Father Emperor should rest well. This son still has matters to handle in the palace. Whatever you wish to say, we can discuss it next time.”

 

Emperor Jingcheng watched him leave, wanting to reach out to make him stay, but halfway through extending his hand, he smiled bitterly instead.

 

As the medicine took effect, he fell into a deep sleep leaning against the bed. But while sleeping, blood began flowing from his mouth and his body started convulsing.

 

Before long, the Zichen Hall descended into chaos.

 

A young eunuch quickly ran toward Consort Shu’s palace.

 

Today the capital’s temperature plummeted. The autumn wind was cold and harsh, and the gray sky swirled with withered leaves that fell into the pond at the Regent Prince’s manor.

 

Lian Shenwei tossed in some fish food. The remaining lotus stems exuded Buddhist serenity, and ripples spread across the water’s surface.

 

A bird came fluttering over. Tian Nan caught it, retrieved a message from its leg, then stepped forward and said quietly: “Master, it’s time.”

 

“Mm.”

 

The young man responded indifferently, “He’s not dead yet, is he?”

 

Tian Nan shook his head.

 

“Time to enter the palace.”

 

After finishing feeding the fish, Lian Shenwei cleaned his hands. “Seal the capital. Clear the roads.”

 

The Regent Prince’s manor, which had been quiet for so long, suddenly sprang into action without warning, instantly shattering the tentatively stabilized power struggle situation in the capital.

 

Under the pretext of “eliminating traitors,” Lian Shenwei once again demonstrated to everyone what it meant to have absolute power.

 

Ming Zhu mobilized troops with the Regent Prince’s token, forcibly sealing the city. The Black Armored Guards all deployed, their heavy and orderly footsteps rapidly clearing the streets and alleys.

 

The common people, sensing danger, closed their doors and stayed inside.

 

No one knew who the traitors were, but right now the person who most resembled a traitor was Lian Shenwei himself. Occasionally an official dared to go out and curse aloud, only to be ruthlessly detained under the charge of obstructing matters of national importance.

 

Until the entire palace city became so quiet that only the sound of falling leaves could be heard.

 

Lian Shenwei, wearing a black thin cloak with an extremely simple white jade hairpin in his hair, descended from his carriage.

 

Someone opened the palace gates for him.

 

The young man slowly walked in. Withered leaves drifted to his feet, making a soft sound as they were crushed beneath them.

 

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