TMWTGD CH85

Both aching with tender heartache and warmed to the core, Xie Jianwei had hurried back to the rear chambers, fetching warm milk to feed him.

The attending eunuchs moved to take over, but Xie Jianwei waved a dismissive hand, bidding them all to leave.

The creature was simply too tiny, vulnerable to hunger and perpetually drowsy, yet he insisted with stubborn resolve on remaining by his side. Food and drink should have been matters of life and death to a beast, yet here, keeping Xie Jianwei company was the sole meaning of his existence.

Even if it meant starving, battling exhaustion, or enduring physical torment.

Xie Jianwei tapped his tiny forehead with a fingertip. “Foolish thing.”

Lapping up the warm milk, the little ball of fluff licked the tip of his finger.

Xie Jianwei laughed softly. “So milky and soft.”

The little fluffball detested being called small above all else; whenever he heard similar remarks, he would inevitably revolt. Much like now, snapping his jaws in a feigned bite at Xie Jianwei’s finger.

How could Xie Jianwei fear his bite? He feared only hurting the creature’s delicate teeth, quickly pleading for mercy: “Alright, alright, you aren’t small. A-Li is already a big baby.”

What on earth is a big baby? The little creature bit him once anyway.

Eyes curving like crescents, Xie Jianwei’s mood turned delightfully light.

Ascending the imperial throne had brought little change to Xie Jianwei’s life.

With his father’s passing, he had become truly solitary. Seated upon the exalted throne, countless officials knelt in the hall below, yet not a single soul dared lift their eyes to look upon him.

They revered him and held him in awe, but not as a flesh-and-blood man—only as an Emperor.

It sounded almost laughable.

Was an Emperor not human?

Yet an Emperor of this era truly lived unlike a man: wielding supreme authority, shouldering unfathomable duties, holding power over life and death, yet stripped of an ordinary person’s freedom and emotion.

At sixteen, Xie Jianwei was the sovereign ruler of the entire empire, yet remained merely Xie Jianwei to A-Li alone.

Only before this speechless little ball of fur was he allowed to be human.

The early years following his coronation were dizzyingly hectic. A new monarch had to forge monumental achievements to win the submission of the court, particularly given his youth; back when he was merely an imperial prince, many had looked down upon him.

Bearing such breathtaking beauty and appearing so delicate and frail, could such a youth truly carry the weight of an empire’s foundation?

Xie Jianwei proved to them with sheer strength that being a wise sovereign and a peerless emperor had nothing to do with appearance or age.

He was diligent, humble, yet decisively resolute and sharp. He knew how to listen, yet refused to be puppeted by anyone. In merely three years, the nineteen-year-old Xie Jianwei had won the absolute devotion of civil and military officials alike; the reverent cry of “May Your Majesty live for ten thousand years” ringing through the hall was saturated with unvarnished sincerity.

A-Li accompanied Xie Jianwei constantly, inseparable as form and shadow. Xie Jianwei had once teased him: “Once you grow up, you won’t be permitted to follow me to court.”

Grown large, he would no longer fit into his robes, and parading a beast before the court was improper. More than that, Xie Jianwei’s heart ached for him; whenever sessions dragged on, the little creature starved until he was dizzy and faint, and Xie Jianwei feared it would ruin his health in the long run.

Who could have foreseen that from the moment those words were spoken, the little creature simply stopped growing?

He ate no less than before, yet never put on an ounce of weight, remaining perpetually palm-sized. Excluding his fluffy coat, his tiny body was pitifully small.

Worried sick, Xie Jianwei summoned physicians and handlers to examine him repeatedly, but all concluded there was no ailment; the little creature was perfectly healthy.

Yet he simply refused to grow. Afterward, Xie Jianwei refused to let A-Li be seen by outsiders; a beast that never aged was far too unnatural, and the abnormal invited suspicion. He feared putting him in peril.

Furthermore, Xie Jianwei had always known A-Li was unique.

In his youth, no one had been able to see him—only Xie Jianwei could.

Back then, A-Li even possessed a pair of black-and-white wings…

This was visibly extraordinary. Refusing to expose him to the slightest danger, Xie Jianwei kept him carefully concealed by his side, hidden from the eyes of the world.

Years slipped by in a flash. The little ball of fluff remained with Xie Jianwei in mutual reliance, dwelling amidst the vast expanse of the mortal realm, yet tucked away in a private kingdom built for only two.

At times, Xie Jianwei even entertained an absurd thought: Did A-Li truly exist? Could he be merely a phantom of his own delirious imagination?

Yet he was so tangibly real: he would whine with soft grunts, lick his fingers, and nuzzle his fuzzy little head into the palm of his hand… At night, he would sprawl across his chest, his tiny frame lending a deeply reassuring weight.

“A-Li.”

The little creature looked up at him.

“You aren’t refusing to grow up just for my sake, are you?”

The little ball of fluff rolled over, presenting a round, fluffy backside to him.

With curved eyes, Xie Jianwei poked him: “Is that it?”

Unable to explain and too lazy to try, the little creature drifted off to sleep, snoring softly.

Stroking him gently, Xie Jianwei’s heart melted into absolute tenderness.

When he yearned for company, he fluttered tiny wings and appeared before him; when he doubted the reality of his existence, he tumbled into his arms, shedding his wings to gain a touchable form; when he feared his eventual departure upon growing up, he halted his growth entirely, isolating himself from the passage of time.

Xie Jianwei felt his life was complete, all because A-Li existed.

Pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead, Xie Jianwei murmured, “Thank you.”

The little fluffball rolled over and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

Xie Jianwei laughed, “That tickles.”

Letting out a soft huff, the little creature rolled over to resume sleeping.

Only in these moments did Xie Jianwei resemble an authentic youth: laughing brightly, overflowing with carefree joy, and wheedling before a palm-sized creature: “Don’t ignore me.”

The little creature batted at his forehead.

Xie Jianwei kissed him.

The little creature batted at him again, and he kissed him once more.

The two frolicked endlessly until the little creature grew utterly spent, falling into sound slumber.

Holding him close, Xie Jianwei closed his eyes as well, drifting into a light, warm, and beautiful dream.

When did the catastrophe strike?

Xie Jianwei would never forget.

He had refused to grow up for his sake, yet had grown into a behemoth overnight to save his life.

If he could turn back time, Xie Jianwei wished none of it had ever happened.

In the sixth year of Wanxiang, chaos erupted along the frontier. An invasion by barbarian hordes shattered the empire’s peace, plunging the populace into misery through two years and six months of brutal warfare, claiming countless lives on the battlefield.

Having enjoyed peace for a century, the empire had long forgotten the taste of war. Although Xie Jianwei had emphasized military drills and stockpiled generous provisions upon ascending the throne, his commanding generals lacked actual combat experience. Facing the iron cavalry of the foreign tribes, they collapsed in defeat, forfeiting seven cities in a mere half-year.

In such dire straits, panic gripped every heart.

The senior ministers of the imperial court trembled in dread, feeling the pillars of the state crumbling beneath them.

At twenty-two, Xie Jianwei had shed every trace of youthful naivety. Facing such a horrifying crisis, even the sixty-year-old Prime Minister shivered in panic, yet their young sovereign remained remarkably composed. Draped in pitch-black imperial robes, he rose slowly from the dragon throne; the sunlight slanting into the hall bathed his embroidered hem, making the golden dragon soar with vivid life.

Xie Jianwei stated in a deep, resolute voice: “We shall lead the imperial expedition in person.”

As his words fell, a chilling silence enveloped the grand hall. Soon, recovering their wits, the ministers dropped to their knees in droves, trembling as they begged His Majesty to reconsider.

Looking straight ahead, Xie Jianwei pronounced word by word: “The century-old foundation of this empire shall not fall under Our reign. We know what you fear, but in this present crisis, who else among you can command the three armies?”

That single question struck the court dumb. Grand Secretary Sun Shang kowtowed, stammering, “Your Majesty has yet to wed! If on this campaign… if something…”

“Does sitting here awaiting death allow the empire to endure?” Xie Jianwei’s gaze blazed like a torch, his retort rendering the assembly incapable of uttering a sound.

Having reigned for six years, though young, his achievements were undeniable; the sovereign authority accumulated over the years commanded absolute reverence.

At this moment, these elderly pillars of the realm genuinely placed their entire faith in their youthful sovereign.

Over the past six years, Xie Jianwei had demonstrated through sheer capability what it meant to be omnipotent.

Perhaps he truly could turn the tides; perhaps he truly could repel the invaders; perhaps he was indeed the guardian dragon sent by the heavens to shelter the empire.

Unsure of who began it, wave upon wave of “May Your Majesty live ten thousand years!” surged like rolling thunder through the magnificent hall, greeting the rising sun and illuminating the golden dragon coiled upon the dark silk of his robes.

That campaign lasted two full years. Xie Jianwei personally took command, leading the iron-willed sons of the empire against the invaders, winning the fierce devotion of the border populace through sweat and blood.

The seven lost cities were reclaimed in their entirety. In the final life-and-death clash, Xie Jianwei and his military advisor devised a trap.

Because the stakes were exceedingly perilous, Xie Jianwei left A-Li behind in the camp, riding out alone.

That was where the turning point struck.

Waking to find Xie Jianwei missing, the little creature searched frantically everywhere.

Understanding human speech, the moment he slipped out of the tent, he overheard reports that Xie Jianwei had fallen into an ambush, surrounded by tens of thousands of enemy troops.

The little creature’s fur bristled in an instant. Without hesitation, he followed the scent toward Xie Jianwei.

When he reached him, he found the young man soaked in blood, locked in brutal combat. Spotting him, Xie Jianwei gasped in shock, “A-Li, why are you here?”

The instant his words fell, a miracle unfolded: the palm-sized beast seemed to shatter its physical constraints, ballooning in a heartbeat into a colossal, awe-inspiring black-and-white beast of terrifying might and peerless fury.

Everyone on the battlefield froze in utter bewilderment.

Foes and allies alike stood petrified.

In that spark of lightning, the fearsome beast tore the throat out of the enemy commander.

Xie Jianwei had not been at a disadvantage to begin with, and with this miraculous turn, the tide shifted entirely. Snapping back to reality, he ordered the final charge.

The battle turned into an absolute rout. The protracted war concluded at this exact juncture, etched into the annals of history as a legendary victory.

The soldiers who fought beside Xie Jianwei shouted in awe: “A divine beast has descended! His Majesty is truly the heaven-sent true dragon!”

Xie Jianwei remained staring at the unfamiliar yet intimately familiar beast before him. After a long pause, he commanded with absolute severity: “Regarding what transpired today, none shall speak a single word!”

Those present were warriors who had braved life and death alongside him; they trusted him, revered him, and were fiercely loyal to him.

If Xie Jianwei demanded secrecy, not a soul would breathe a word.

The creature that had not grown an inch in eight long years had transformed overnight into such a formidable beast.

Xie Jianwei did not fear him; he felt only immense heartache, fine, prickling pangs mingled with profound dread.

“A-Li…”

A-Li turned toward him, his dark eyes still burning with predatory bloodlust.

Stepping closer, Xie Jianwei murmured softly, “It’s alright… I am unhurt.”

The crimson glint receded from those eyes, replaced by gentle docility.

Embracing his massive head, Xie Jianwei’s eyelashes were dampened with tears: “Do not be afraid. Nothing will happen to me.”

“Mm, mm,” the beast whined softly.

Xie Jianwei knew he was calling his name. With tears slipping down his cheeks, a smile graced his lips: “Thank you, A-Li. Thank you.”

Descending for my sake, halting your growth for my sake, and turning into this overnight for my sake.

I know not what manner of creature you are, but thank you—thank you for half a lifetime of companionship.

Xie Jianwei had no desire to recall the subsequent years.

He knew that all feasts under heaven must eventually draw to a close, yet he wished that the solitary feast meant for only the two of them would never disperse.

After all, they were only two, so very few… so please, let it never end.

Lu Li slept soundly, while Xie Jianwei watched over him with wide eyes through the entire night.

The next morning, Xie Jianwei headed off to court with energetic poise. Upon waking, Lu Li sat on the dragon bed in a daze for a while.

Yan Ke asked, “Lord Marshal?”

Lu Li told him, “I had a dream last night.” He briefly outlined the contents: the entirety of Xie Jianwei’s memories from age six onward, accompanied by himself.

Drawing from past experience, Yan Ke said, “That likely wasn’t a dream, but genuine memories.”

Lu Li agreed. After a pause, he murmured, “It seems this is A-Wei’s psychological knot.”

Companionship, and isolation.

Xie Jianwei was profoundly lonely.

From birth, he had never tasted familial warmth. Lu Li didn’t know the exact details of reality yet, but the dream’s Xie Jianwei, before age six, had a mother who was practically absent—perpetually sickly, her heart consumed by a husband who was always away, leaving her no capacity to care for him.

Yet at least he had a mother by his side back then, someone who did not abuse him.

Soon, however, he watched her die with his own eyes; a cold corpse became his definitive memory of the word “mother.”

Perhaps the young Xie Jianwei in reality had yearned for someone by his side just as desperately—even if not a human, merely a mythical winged beast would have sufficed.

He was far too lonely. Even while placed upon a pedestal, his inner soul remained a desolate wasteland: finding no belonging, leaning on no pillar, forced to survive through sheer resilience, turning solitude into a habit until indomitable willpower conquered it.

Yet shadows did not vanish with the arrival of the sun; they lingered in the corners.

Because he had never possessed it, once obtained, he treasured it beyond measure.

He treasured Lu Li and refused to lose him; thus, he endlessly satisfied Lu Li, endlessly granting him power, glory, status—everything human heart could desire was placed before Lu Li’s feet.

He gave Lu Li the finest things under heaven, hesitating not to sacrifice everything for his sake.

In truth, thinking about it carefully, this was flawed, unhealthy—a deeply buried manifestation of intense insecurity.

He was like a child who had never had a playmate, suddenly blessed with a friend, desperate to share every possession just so the other would stay.

Was this good? It was not.

Companionship had to be mutual, and giving was mutual as well.

Fortunately, Lu Li loved him to the marrow; had it been anyone else, it would surely have bred a tragedy.

Humans could be spoiled; blind, unceasing sacrifice did not guarantee returns, but could instead entangle oneself in an inescapable cage.

Lu Li sighed softly, unexpectedly finding himself harboring less resentment toward “it.”

Without it, how could he have ever glimpsed the authentic Xie Jianwei?

The boy concealed behind formidable strength, hidden beneath vast intellect, unseen by anyone—a lonely child curled up in a forgotten corner.

Now that the knot was identified, resolving it was straightforward.

He merely had to stay with him, accompanying him through a lifetime, and the knot would unravel.

Yet this panda body was entirely unsuitable; staying with him in this form was far too passive, leaving too many variables.

Xie Jianwei relied on him, but would never rely on him as an equal human partner.

Not being human meant he could never fall in love with him.

And the supreme antidote to loneliness was undeniably romance.

Two hearts pressed together would fill each other’s universe, rendering them forever oblivious to the concept of isolation.

To initiate romance, he first had to become human.

How to transform?

Lu Li understood the rules governing the will of God.

First, Xie Jianwei had to recognize him as human; only then could he take human form.

After pondering, Lu Li prepared to put on an act.

Yan Ke couldn’t help fretting internally: The Military Advisor duping the Lord Marshal is something I have absolute faith in, but can the Lord Marshal truly dupe the Military Advisor…? Naturally, he wouldn’t voice this aloud, lacking any desire to be chopped up and fed to alien insects.

Lu Li figured that to make Xie Jianwei view him as human, he first had to act like one.

For instance, certain panda habits had to go. Eating bamboo? Absolutely not; humans ate meals.

Yet in his very first scene, he hit a wall.

Lu Li extended a paw toward a steamed meat bun, only for Xie Jianwei to swat his hand away: “You cannot eat this; you won’t digest it.”

Lu Li stubbornly insisted on having the bun.

Xie Jianwei commanded, “Clear the table.”

The gourmet banquet vanished in an instant.

Lu Li: “…”

Xie Jianwei coaxed him: “You cannot eat that, and it isn’t tasty anyway.”

Liar, meat buns are the best; I can down twelve in one breath.

Unable to speak human words and refusing to emit those wheedling whines, Lu Li turned his head away to feign a huff.

Xie Jianwei paused, then said, “Wait here.”

He stepped outside, returning shortly followed by a train of attendants.

Curious, Lu Li looked over, and then: “…”

Xie Jianwei said, “Eat up!”

He had brought buns—only the dough was made of bamboo fiber, and the filling was tender bamboo shoots: a vibrant, thoroughly green batch of steamed buns.

Yan Ke: Good heavens, what pampering!

Lu Li: Isn’t this reversed? Isn’t the husband supposed to pamper the wife!

Yet the bamboo buns were surprisingly delicious… The Panda Marshal downed thirteen of them in one go.

Watching with curved eyes, Xie Jianwei said, “Don’t eat too many at once. There are plenty more; eat when you are hungry.”

Lu Li: “…”

First operation: KO.

Unable to make headway through food, Lu Li sought other avenues. After all, the difference between a bear and a human was vast: one walked on four limbs, the other on two.

The Panda Marshal figured he had lived half his life as a human; what was walking on two legs? He could pull off eight hundred aerial flips if needed.

And yet… he managed eight steps before collapsing flat on his face, sprawling motionless.

What manner of cursed physiology is this!

The upside was that Xie Jianwei was thoroughly amused: “A-Li, you are going to kill me with laughter!”

Tilting his head to look at him, Lu Li felt his heart itch with longing at the sight of his laughing beloved.

Being able to see him smile like this brought comfort to Lu Li’s chest, proving his clumsy display had not been in vain.

Since walking failed, Lu Li attempted “sitting upright with decorum,” “lying draped in robes,” and even adopting the classic pose of Rodin’s The Thinker…

In the end… dammit, whatever this body did looked like an exhibition of pure clumsiness!

Never mind resembling a human; now every eunuch in the palace revered him as an adorable national treasure.

A veteran actor brought down by a panda’s frame; a spectacle to evoke tears in all who beheld it, genuinely pitiful.

On this day, Yan Ke entered the palace for an imperial audience. After concluding official business, having obtained his cousin’s approval, he slipped into the rear quarters to visit the round beast.

Still sulking, Lu Li had no warm welcome for him.

Yet Yan Ke was overjoyed, though still timid—dying to pet yet not daring to, resting his chin on his hands to gaze at him with a goofy smile.

Glancing at him, Lu Li couldn’t fathom what manner of fit he was throwing.

After staring for a while, Yan Ke finally spoke, his voice remarkably gentle: “Are you happy staying by His Majesty’s side?”

Isn’t that obvious? The Panda Marshal rolled his eyes at him.

Yan Ke was amused by the gesture; with such a round head, whatever he did was lethally adorable.

“You love His Majesty, don’t you?” he asked Lu Li.

Sensing a hidden nuance in his words, Lu Li observed him in silence.

Expecting no reply, Yan Ke sighed softly: “If you love him, please remain by his side.”

Lu Li wanted to interrogate him but could only produce soft whines.

Yan Ke offered a faint smile: “I must take my leave.”

Lu Li thought: I have no idea what you even came here for.

Gazing at him, Yan Ke’s eyes filled with sudden wistfulness, looking on the verge of tears: “Farewell.”

Lu Li: “…”

The real Yan Ke panicked internally: My Lord, I… I harbor zero feelings for you! I like women, particularly women with large busts, so… so…

Lu Li: …I happen to be a massive bear right now. 

Real Yan Ke wailed: It’s a big bust, not a big bear! My tastes are completely ordinary; I don’t fancy bears…

Lu Li remarked faintly: You seemed rather thrilled when I first turned into a bear?

Yan Ke stammered, on the verge of bawling: I like fluffy things, but that affection is entirely platonic! It isn’t… absolutely isn’t that kind of meaning!

Yet the dream’s Yan Ke was clearly far from feeling mere platonic affection; it carried the weight of an untold secret.

Compared to Yan Ke’s flustered protests, Lu Li’s thoughts delved deeper. Could it be… that the dream Yan Ke was projecting his longing for someone else onto the beast?

Whom could Yan Ke love?

Loren?

It was natural for Lu Li to deduce this. Xie Jianwei’s dream was constructed by “it,” inheriting Lu Li’s subconscious, which would inevitably pair Loren and Yan Ke together. After being tormented by Loren’s whining for years, Lu Li had often wanted to tie Yan Ke up and toss him onto that coward’s bed to get it over with.

Coupled with Xie Jianwei knowing about Loren’s crush, the dream incorporating this dynamic was entirely logical.

Speaking of which, where was Loren? Where was that brat hiding?

Seeing Yan Ke off, a sudden inspiration struck Lu Li.

He couldn’t imitate human behavior, but there was a method far more direct and effective.

If he couldn’t speak, he could write.

A panda’s paws were nimble enough to peel bamboo; writing a few characters should be child’s play.

The plan was sound, and the execution brisk. Unable to handle a brush, carving into the dirt with a bamboo stalk was feasible.

Practicing in secret to ensure his grip was steady, the handwriting legible, and his Marshal’s dignity intact, Lu Li waited for his spouse’s return.

Xie Jianwei returned as dusk settled. His brows carried traces of exhaustion (twelve continuous hours of statecraft would drain anyone), yet upon spotting the giant panda, his eyes sparkled, fatigue vanishing, wanting to scoop him into an embrace.

Alas, he couldn’t lift him; instead, Lu Li wrapped his paws around him.

Xie Jianwei was ticklish, laughing: “Don’t rub, it tickles.”

Lu Li insisted on nuzzling, rubbing his furry head against his neck until Xie Jianwei gasped breathlessly: “Stop, stop, it’s too ticklish!”

Remembering how he looked in bed, Lu Li’s own heart itched with desire.

Fortunately, pandas were biologically placid creatures; otherwise, he truly wouldn’t know how to endure these days.

After playing for a bit, they shared dinner, following which Lu Li nudged him with his head, urging him outside.

Noticing his intent, Xie Jianwei said, “It is already dark. Let us go out tomorrow.”

Lu Li refused to relent, stubbornly shoving him toward the courtyard.

Doting on him without boundaries, Xie Jianwei gave in: “Alright, alright, we’ll go out, but not for long; you must rest early.”

Lu Li let out a few compliant grunts.

Man and beast walked into the gardens. Lu Li located a patch of clear ground, carrying several oil lamps in his jaws to illuminate the dirt brightly.

Curious, Xie Jianwei asked, “What are you planning to do?”

Lu Li was already brandishing a bamboo stick, carving crooked characters into the soil.

He wrote: “I am human.”

Three simple characters; though hardly aesthetic, they were thoroughly legible.

Finishing, the Panda Marshal looked up expectantly at Xie Jianwei, hoping he would recognize his true identity.

Xie Jianwei saw the marks clearly; the lamps were bright, and A-Li had carved deeply, only…

Blinking, Xie Jianwei asked, “What is this?”

Lu Li: “…” Can the sovereign of a nation not read? Don’t tease me.

Studying it carefully, Xie Jianwei murmured, “A drawing? Rather peculiar, but quite lovely.” Words meant entirely to comfort the fluffy sphere.

Refusing to concede, Lu Li hoisted the stick and wrote: “I am your husband!”

Xie Jianwei mused, “The pattern appears remarkably structured.”

Though reluctant to believe it, Lu Li had to accept the truth: perhaps… the written language of this dream world was fundamentally different.

The next day, Lu Li secretly flipped through memorials on the desk, only to be struck dumb by pages of incomprehensible squiggles.

Although our Lord Marshal lacked the Military Advisor’s academic pedigree, he was hardly illiterate. Yet today, inside this dream, he realized he wasn’t much better off than a complete dunce.

To communicate through text, he had to master these squiggles first.

Which brought the problem: how on earth was he supposed to learn them!

He asked Yan Ke in his mind: “Can you read this?”

Yan Ke whispered, “I heard the Military Advisor is fluent in over seven hundred alien languages…”

Lu Li: “…” The sorrow of a husband whose wife is far too brilliant is something you will never understand.

Unable to decipher a single character, Lu Li refused to give up. He didn’t need to master the entire lexicon, writing “I am human” would suffice.

He spent days striving to learn, an agonizing endeavor.

First, he couldn’t express the concept of “human,” being unable to speak. Pointing to Xie Jianwei, Xie Jianwei taught him the three characters for “Xie Jianwei”; pointing to a nearby eunuch, Xie Jianwei taught him “Bie Taijian” (Don’t, Eunuch).

Pointing to an official, Xie Jianwei taught him “Minister.”

Aside from Xie Jianwei, everyone was defined solely by rank rather than personal names.

If Xie Jianwei had taught him “other person,” at least the character for “human” would be included, but he didn’t.

Worse still, pointing to books for Xie Jianwei to read aloud never yielded the three characters he sought.

After struggling for half a month, Lu Li felt on the verge of degenerating into an authentic, brainless bear.

Xie Jianwei, however, had lived in radiant happiness ever since A-Li returned.

He had no idea when he might leave, but treasured every stolen day, utterly reluctant to let him go.

Lu Li’s human transformation scheme: what seemed impossible proved laughably simple in the end.

On this particular day, Xie Jianwei attended court as usual while Lu Li munched on bamboo in the chambers, when suddenly an identical beast charged inside.

Stunned, Lu Li dropped his bamboo stalk to the floor.

The intruder was a giant panda of similar stature and appearance (identifying differences between pandas was no easy feat), with one crucial distinction: his eyes were brown, and he could speak.

Dropping to his front knees in a formal bow, the newcomer declared: “Your Highness, please return with me at once!”

It was Loren’s voice.

Lu Li: “…”

Real Yan Ke gasped in shock: “It’s Admiral Loren!” Followed immediately by a besotted sigh: What an adorable giant panda, kneeling like that… his backside is so perfectly round.

Before Lu Li could speak, Loren added urgently: “The summer solstice is nearly upon us! If you do not return now, you will miss your coming-of-age ceremony entirely!”

Coming-of-age ceremony?

The Panda Marshal’s ears twitched. He let out a few grunts, discovering that Loren understood him perfectly.

“Indeed! You have reached twenty years of age! Without the ceremony, you will never be able to assume human form for the rest of your life!”

The words human form made Lu Li’s eyes blaze. He asked, “How much time remains?”

Loren said, “Three double-hours!”

Lu Li furrowed his brows: “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Loren answered briskly, “Understood!” Rising to his feet, his fluffy panda frame morphed into the taut, athletic body of a grown man, dressed in crisp martial attire.

Lu Li was intensely envious; throughout his entire life, men across the Milky Way had only ever envied him.

Tracing a circle in the air with his hand, Loren said, “Your Highness, forgive the crude conveyance.”

Just as his words fell, the hall doors flew open, revealing Xie Jianwei gripping the doorframe, panting for breath.

He had run all the way back, abandoning his ministers and dashing from the front court without regard for decorum.

Rain had fallen the previous night, leaving the ground slick; the hem of his imperial robes was stained with damp mud, glistening beneath the morning sun like tears weeping from the golden dragon.

Against the stark black silk, Xie Jianwei’s face was deathly pale.

His lips parted slightly, countless words surging to his tongue, yet not a sound escaped.

Spotting him, Lu Li felt a sharp pang in his chest, desperate to speak, but producing only soft grunts.

Looking between Loren and Lu Li, Xie Jianwei closed his eyes. After a long silence, he asked: “Are you leaving?”

Lu Li instructed Loren: “Tell him I will return shortly.”

Hesitating, Loren addressed Xie Jianwei: “May Your Majesty enjoy peace.”

Xie Jianwei stared at him unblinkingly.

Loren said, “His High… A-Li wishes me to convey to you that he will return.”

Hearing this, the gloom upon Xie Jianwei’s face did not lift in the slightest. Offering a fragile smile, his tone was steeped in quiet sorrow: “Very well.”

Lu Li felt unbearable heartache, yet had to endure it; without becoming human, the psychological knot could never be untied.

To treat a festering wound, one had to peel back the dressing to apply medicine.

Lu Li gazed intently at Xie Jianwei, hoping he would meet his eyes.

Yet Xie Jianwei did not look at him, merely turning his back, facing the sunlight while turning away from them.

Brilliant radiance bathed his form, appearing magnificent, yet viewed from behind, one could see only that slender silhouette enveloped in a narrow, suffocating shadow.

Steeling his resolve, Lu Li departed with Loren.

He would return; the moment he became human, he would race back immediately.

He would never make him wait long; he would stay by his side, truly and genuinely keeping him company.

Silence reclaimed the hall. Xie Jianwei finally turned his head slowly, taking in the empty chamber. His strength suddenly deserted him, slumping limp onto the floor.

The icy marble beneath him and the rigid imperial robes wrapped around him were nothing compared to the freezing cold encasing his heart.

In the end, it was merely a dream; waking left nothing behind.

After a long while, Xie Jianwei rose slowly. Entering the bedchamber, he pressed a concealed mechanism, revealing a faded, yellowed ancient tome.

Opening it, he stared unblinkingly at a single line of text:

The Divine Beast communes with the heavens, coexisting for twenty years. Once the realm achieves peace and the populace prospers, he shall depart on his own.

Age six to twenty-six—precisely twenty years.

Not a day, not a double-hour, not a single minute more.

A-Li was gone.

Xie Jianwei stared blankly at his empty palm, unable to decipher the hollow ache in his chest.

His kin, his companion, the presence he had leaned upon through childhood, had ultimately abandoned him.

Solitary ruler.

The price demanded for sitting upon the exalted throne.

Turning, Xie Jianwei strode out, returning in silence to the imperial court.

None knew why their sovereign had abruptly departed, and none dared ask.

Seeing Xie Jianwei return, the officials hesitated briefly before resuming their petitions:

“Your Majesty, now that peace reigns across the four seas and the people live in harmony, should you not consider…”

Expressionless, Xie Jianwei knew what they desired.

A grand wedding, imperial heirs, and succession.

Yet what purpose did it serve? He had no wish to become a man like his father.

He was fated never to be a good husband, nor could he ever be a good father; why repeat the same tragedy?