Chapter 489 Final Chapter

Chapter 489: Final Chapter

Zhou Mingqi's expression stayed perfectly neutral as he withdrew his hand and slowly wiped the juice from between his fingers with a handkerchief, his gaze already returning to the memorials on his desk.

Cheng Ge still had the lychee in his mouth, one cheek bulging slightly. He couldn't chew, couldn't swallow—his tongue felt limp from the sweetness.

He stole a glance at Zhou Mingqi. The Emperor kept his head down, unhurriedly tracing circle after circle on the memorial with his vermilion brush.

Cheng Ge looked away, chewed twice, swallowed, and closed his fingers around the pit.

He glanced again. Zhou Mingqi still wasn't looking at him.

The tips of Cheng Ge's ears turned red. He looked away and stared at the lychee pit in his lap, now warm from being held so tight.

Zhou Mingqi put down the handkerchief and pushed the dish of lychees toward Cheng Ge.

The dish gave a soft clink against the inkstone.

"Eat. No need to wait on me—we'll dine together shortly." His voice was calm, as if it were no big deal. He lowered his head and went back to the memorials.

Cheng Ge looked at the dish of lychees, bit his lip, hesitated for a few seconds, then reached out and took one.

He peeled it and popped it into his mouth, the juice running down his throat, cool and sweet.

He grabbed another, then another. The lychees had been chilled with ice—cool but not frozen, perfectly refreshing.

Cheng Ge stopped counting as he ate, the pile of red shells growing higher and higher.

The green leaves were tossed aside, juice dripping down between his fingers onto his knees. He didn't bother to wipe it off.

After a while, he slowed down—not because he'd lost his appetite, but because only one lychee remained in the dish.

That lone lychee sat in the center of the dish, beads of moisture still clinging to its red shell, like a forgotten red lantern.

Cheng Ge looked at it but didn't take it. He left it there, for appearances' sake.

A eunuch's voice came from outside, neither too loud nor too soft, loud enough for those inside to hear: "Your Majesty, the evening meal is ready."

Zhou Mingqi set down his vermilion brush, closed the last memorial, set it aside, and rose, straightening his sleeves.

"Serve the meal."

His gaze fell on Cheng Ge, who was staring at the lychee in the dish, lost in thought.

Zhou Mingqi watched him for two seconds, the corner of his mouth curving slightly—so subtle that a flicker of candlelight could hide it.

"Let's go eat." Cheng Ge snapped out of it, nodded, stood up, set the lychee pit he'd been clutching for so long beside the dish, straightened his robes, and followed him.

After two steps, he suddenly stopped, looked back at the lone lychee in the dish, hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and turned to offer it to Zhou Mingqi.

"You should have one too, Your Majesty."

Zhou Mingqi looked down at the lychee, then at Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge's hand was still extended, fingers pinching the lychee with its red shell and green leaves, not pulling back.

The candle flame flickered between them, casting their shadows on the wall, pressed together, blending into one.

Zhou Mingqi's fingertips twitched slightly. He reached out and took the lychee.

He held it in his palm. He didn't peel it or eat it—just held it—and turned toward the door.

The evening meal was served in the side hall. The dishes weren't overly elaborate, but every one of them was something Cheng Ge loved.

When Cheng Ge sat down and looked at the dishes, he swallowed.

Two young eunuchs stood at the side with their hands clasped in front of them, serving with light, swift movements—chopsticks out, food picked up, placed on the plate, in one fluid motion.

Cheng Ge had dined in the palace many times, so he didn't hold back.

He picked up the soup bowl and took a sip. The sour soup hit the spot, whetting his appetite. He couldn't help taking another sip.

The eunuch served dishes beside him, and he dug right in.

He picked up a piece of rib and bit into it, then took a piece of fish belly, dipped it in the vinegar dip, and popped it into his mouth.

He ate intently, his chopsticks reaching out faster and faster. Before the food on his plate was finished, he was already reaching for more.

Zhou Mingqi seemed used to it, eating slowly and deliberately.

By the time Cheng Ge was on his fifth rib, his stomach was already quite full, but the chicken slices were too good to resist—he took two more.

The stir-fried vegetables were crisp and refreshing—he helped himself to more. The sour bamboo shoot and chicken skin soup was delicious—he had another half bowl.

When he finally set down his chopsticks, he was pretty stuffed, and suddenly found himself missing the days when he'd had a bottomless stomach.

Zhou Mingqi set down his chopsticks too and took a sip of tea. "Finished?"

Cheng Ge nodded and tried to stand, but as he straightened up, the food in his stomach weighed him down.

He stopped short, then rose slowly, moving like a turtle flipped on its back—clumsy and awkward.

"Let's take a walk." Zhou Mingqi stood, straightened his sleeves, and turned and walked out slowly.

Cheng Ge followed, the two of them one behind the other, half a step apart.

It was the fifteenth of the month, the moon full, round as a plate.

They wandered through the palace, the night breeze carrying a chill in the air. Neither spoke much.

As they walked, they arrived before a remote, dilapidated hall without realizing it.

The vermilion paint was peeling. The characters on the plaque above the door were blurred beyond recognition. Wild grass poked through the cracks in the bricks, making the place look even more forlorn in the moonlight.

Zhou Mingqi stood before the hall for a long time, his gaze fixed on the door, as if looking at something far away.

Cheng Ge suddenly felt the hall looked familiar. He studied his surroundings, and his heart skipped a beat—wasn't this where Zhou Mingqi had lived as a child?

During the coup, Prince Jing had taken him through the dog tunnel here to sneak into the palace.

He turned to look at Zhou Mingqi, but Zhou Mingqi wasn't looking at him. He turned and headed to the side of the hall.

There, a wooden ladder had been set up, reaching from the ground to the roof. The wood wasn't new, but it was sturdy.

Zhou Mingqi stepped onto it unhurriedly, the planks trembling slightly beneath his feet, creaking.

Cheng Ge hesitated for a second, then followed close behind.

The view from the rooftop was breathtakingly wide—the entire palace lay at their feet, layer upon layer of palace walls stretching into the distance.

The tiles underfoot were a bit slippery, and Cheng Ge's body swayed as he stepped on them, so he quickly bent to steady himself.

Zhou Mingqi had already walked to the ridge of the roof, turning back to look at him. Moonlight fell on his face, blurring his expression until it was hard to read.

He held out both hands to Cheng Ge, palms up, fingers slightly parted.

Cheng Ge looked startled for a moment, then placed his hands on Zhou Mingqi's palms.

Zhou Mingqi's hands were warm, his fingertips gently closing around Cheng Ge's with a light grip.

Cheng Ge climbed the last rung of the wooden ladder, and only once he was steady did Zhou Mingqi slowly release his hands.

The two sat down on the roof ridge, the tiles bathed in a thin sheen of moonlight.

The wind blowing across the roof was stronger than it was on the ground, making Cheng Ge's robes flutter noisily. He tucked the hem under his leg to keep it from blowing around.

Zhou Mingqi said nothing, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, as if looking at nothing in particular.

Moonlight fell on his face, illuminating the side of his face clearly. Cheng Ge sat beside him, also silent.

After a long silence, Zhou Mingqi finally spoke. He didn't look at Cheng Ge, his gaze settling on the well in the courtyard.

The well opening was half-hidden by withered grass, moonlight shining into it but revealing no bottom—a pitch-black void, like an eye that would never close.

"That well," Zhou Mingqi said, his voice so low it seemed to drift in from somewhere far away.

"When I was a child, I jumped into that well to fish out half a moldy steamed bun."

Cheng Ge followed his gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line, saying nothing.

"The former Crown Prince made a bet with the other princes," Zhou Mingqi continued, his voice flat, as if reading a memorial that had nothing to do with him.

"He said they'd throw my only ration into the well and bet on whether I'd jump in after it.

To make that bet work, they ordered the palace servants not to give me any food for three days. They just wanted to see me desperate and pathetic."

He paused, giving a light tap on his knee. "In the end, the Crown Prince won. I grabbed the well rope and soaked in that well all night.

The water rose past my chest, cold seeping into my bones. I didn't dare let go—if I let go, I'd drown.

I didn't dare shout either. Even if I did, no one would respond. So I just held on like that, gripping that rope all night."

He turned his head to the side, looking at Cheng Ge. Moonlight fell on his face, crumbling the light in his eyes into tiny fragments.

"That half bun swelled up from the water, but I never got a single bite of it. In the end, it rotted in the well water."

He rarely smiled, but he gave a faint one, so light it barely registered, then lowered his head.

"Does it make you think—that the Emperor's past is so shameful, so far from glorious?"

Cheng Ge said nothing. He slowly reached out and gently took Zhou Mingqi's hand.

That hand of his was still cold. Cheng Ge wrapped it in his palm, closing his fingers around it, holding tight.

"No," Cheng Ge said. His voice was soft, so soft it was like telling a secret only the two of them could hear.

Zhou Mingqi said nothing, nor did he pull his hand away. Their hands rested together, intertwined.

Night wind swept across the roof, and the withered grass in the tile crevices rustled softly.

Cheng Ge watched Zhou Mingqi's bowed head, watched the moonlight fall on the half of his face hidden in shadow.

He released Zhou Mingqi's hand, moved back half an inch, and extended his hand in front of Zhou Mingqi, fingers spread, palm up—empty.

"Your Majesty, your subject will show you a trick." Cheng Ge's voice wasn't loud, carrying a hint of feigned nonchalance, like a stone thrown into deep water, hoping to hear a splash.

Zhou Mingqi looked up at him.

Moonlight fell on Cheng Ge's face, illuminating that faint smile brightly. Whether it was a real smile or just a way to block the wind for him, it was hard to tell.

Zhou Mingqi said nothing, nor did he look away. He just watched with serious attention, like someone who hadn't seen a magic trick in ages, suddenly asked to watch one, not knowing what expression to make, so he just watched intently.

Cheng Ge flipped his hand over and back. Between the fingers of his left hand, something glinted in the moonlight, then was hidden in his palm.

He flipped his hands a few more times, the movements not fast, even a bit clumsy, as if he hadn't practiced in a long time.

He pressed his hands together, gave them a shake, blew on them, and when he opened them again, a lychee lay in his palm.

Red shell, green leaf, still beaded with water droplets, plump and round—identical to the last one on the plate in the imperial study.

Zhou Mingqi looked at the lychee, the corner of his mouth moving slightly, so faint it seemed he wanted to say something but swallowed it back.

His hand brushed past his sleeve pocket—it was empty. At some point, the lychee he'd been holding all along had been quietly swiped.

Cheng Ge held the lychee up to the moonlight, examining it like checking its quality, or perhaps deliberately stalling for time.

He peeled it, the shell cracking open to reveal the white, tender flesh, juice trickling down between his fingers, dripping onto the roof tiles, spreading into a small dark stain.

He tossed the shell away carelessly. It arced through the air and fell into the dark well in the courtyard, silent, as if nothing had happened.

The flesh sat held between his fingertips, white and tender, juice still dripping.

He stuffed the lychee into his mouth, his cheek bulging slightly, a little juice trickling from the corner of his lips.

Zhou Mingqi watched him. Moonlight fell on Cheng Ge's face, clearly illuminating the glistening drop of juice at the corner of his mouth. Zhou Mingqi couldn't help but crack a smile.

Cheng Ge bent down, bringing himself very close.

So close that Zhou Mingqi could see his eyelashes, could smell the sweetness of lychee in his breath.

Cheng Ge's eyes seemed to hold countless stars, so dazzling it was hard to look at him for long.

His lips still glistened with lychee juice, less than an inch away from the corner of Zhou Mingqi's mouth.

He paused for a moment, neither retreating nor advancing, as if waiting for something, or confirming something.

Then he moved, his lips brushing lightly against the corner of Zhou Mingqi's mouth, carrying the sweetness of lychee, cool and tingling, a touch that came and went in an instant.

Zhou Mingqi didn't dodge, didn't move, his whole body frozen as if in place.

Cheng Ge straightened up, looking down at him, his eyes and brows curved into a smile. "Does that make it a little sweeter?"

Zhou Mingqi said nothing. His hands still rested on his knees, fingertips slightly curled, like a flower that bloomed halfway and refused to open any further.

The bright moon hung high, shining down on the two of them, motionless, as if waiting for an answer too.

"The End"

(My dears, I originally wanted to write a side story today, but I discovered that after this book is completed, I can't post side stories. I'll observe for a few more days to see if it lets me write one. Sorry, sorry. ૮₍ɵ̷﹏ɵ̷̥̥᷅₎ა)