The young king is the protagonist of a volume in his favorite Western fantasy novel.
When creating characters, the author, a veteran of World War II, drew inspiration from those brilliant young kings and piled laurels onto the beautiful head of his favorite: a prince radiant as a young lion, a fearless genius and hero, a glorious son taken too soon...
Even his death was tragic and glorious, mourned with the greatest honors. He fell like the sun crashing to earth, like a brilliant star extinguished, and the empire he had conquered shattered into pieces, becoming his grandest funeral offering.
The author made no secret of his favoritism toward the young king, and as a reader, he cherished the boy just as much.
He even retranslated the original, clumsy Chinese translation, pointing out hundreds of translation and factual errors. He also started writing and drawing from scratch, making fan edits and setting up a small forum.
In short, the young king was his closest companion. He knew every detail of the king's growth, as well as the geography, waterways, customs, and culture of the world in the book.
He had poured all of his modest "fatherly love" into the boy.
The summer after the college entrance exams, he transmigrated while out picking up a delivery.
He was wearing the classic at-home outfit of shorts and slippers, and carrying a dictionary of ancient Latin that belonged to his "Roman Empire-loving" dad, a family medical guide that had been a workplace benefit for his mom, and a household medicine kit stuffed with fever reducers, antibiotics, and other essentials.
The good news was that he had transmigrated right beside his beloved boy.
The bad news was that his boy was on the brink of death.
Worse still, he had been chosen as a human sacrifice and was about to be thrown into a blazing pit.
He yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice shrill as a boiling kettle: "I-I can save him! Let me try!"
And so their story began.
When he sat beside the king, sharing a wine cup with him and whispering jokes in his ear, the usually stern king smiled. The nobles and the pope were stunned.
The pope raged, calling him a heretic warlock, a shameless XX, a demon who had lured the righteous king into corruption with vile and despicable tricks.
From the blazing desert to the snow-covered tundra, whether their bond was familial, friendly, or romantic, this time he decided to let God judge.
He doesn't ship his son with every character, but he respects and blesses them: as long as his son is the bottom, he doesn't mind.
Fortunately, his son is a popular bottom. His ships include his protagonist, his older brother, soldiers, enemies, and even the foreign eunuch who serves as his interpreter...
Until one day, a deeply unhinged King X Forum Mod fic appeared on the original fiction forum.
Users claimed it was a birthday fic for the forum mod.
His eyes saw stars as he read it: that unhinged thing must be what made him transmigrate.
Inside a military tent during a night march, those eyes flashed with feverish fire. A desperate, crazed voice came from his throat, like that of a dying beast: "You saved me. If you don't love me, I can only die. Don't make me beg you..."
He felt a little hopeless: My son, I ship you as the top. I don't mean, "I ship you because I want you to be my husband."
Theme: Let's fight our way to the ends of the world together
