The Emperor at the End of the Road

Ten years ago, the prince of Qi seized the throne, only to hand it over to another in the blink of an eye. After that, he vanished without a trace.

His name was Heng, a jade pendant shaped like a chime. His life, too, was as lonely as the sound of a chime falling. So he took his mother's surname, Yan, and chose the single name Luo. In time, a carefree wanderer appeared in the jianghu, boiling snow to brew tea and seeking out fine wines.

That day, she had no intention of stumbling into this royal bloodbath. She did not know what kind of quiet endurance the young man before her had learned from being cast aside like trash, nor did she know the ruthless resolve he possessed beyond his years. She only remembered how beautiful and desolate the moonlight was that night, as lovely as her mother's kind smile before she died.

Life means nothing to him, so what could death mean? After all his brilliance had faded, all that remained was a dream of splendor and a wretched life. He had sacrificed too much for power, losing people's hearts and burying his true nature. He had even turned a love within easy reach into the loneliness of two people.

Her stubborn insistence was the greatest mistake of her life. She once thought a person's passions would slowly settle with time. Little did she know that some things need no settling: they were already cold, and everything else was just a facade.

Heaven and earth were formed from dark and yellow, the universe from chaos.

Years turned over and over. The sea became fields of mulberry trees, and memories became nightmares.

After all these years, I only want to know: when the drifting blossoms and fleeting flowers have all withered, may I keep you company in your solitude?