Just as Xiao Han thought the plot was taking a most evil turn, Prince Wen suddenly stopped. Flustered, he tried to appease Zhuo Fan, who was visibly aggrieved and helpless. “Sorry, I was too impatient and didn’t consider your feelings.”

Xiao Han, whose view was blocked by Wen Muyan, couldn’t see Zhuo Fan's expression. Still, it was likely a mix of embarrassment and pride. Yet this “top” destined to become cannon fodder was tragically doomed. He would never get to taste Zhuo Fan—because in just a few hours, Zhuo Fan would be summoned to the palace by imperial edict. And from that point on, Xiao Han would play the role of the humble and affectionate “top,” enduring constant reproaches, while Prince Wen, although hopelessly smitten, would reap no reward—used only by this little “bottom” to provoke the emperor.

Imagining this next chapter of the script, Xiao Han couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety for Wen Muyan.

Unfortunately, the loyal and devoted Prince Wen had already helped dress Zhuo Fan, still apologizing as he did. After spending a long time soothing him, he even ordered his men to put the broken door back in place before quickly taking his leave.

Observing the speed with which Prince Wen fled the scene, Xiao Han’s expression subtly shifted.

No matter what, the plot had to play out.

It was said that upon returning to the palace, the Qing Emperor flew into a rage in his chambers. Soon after, he penned a decree summoning Assistant Minister Zhuo Fan. Though Zhuo Fan still felt weak, he had no choice but to come—even if he had to be carried.

No matter how reluctant he was, Zhuo Fan still ended up trapped in the palace by the Qing Emperor.

When the empress heard the news, she ground her teeth and cursed Zhuo Fan as the source of the country’s misfortunes. But in Zhuo Fan’s presence, the Qing Emperor denounced her and ordered she be confined in Fengqi Mansion, forbidden from stepping out. It was essentially a dungeon sentence.

As for Mo Lan—there was no need to mention him. He dodged trouble wherever possible. Truthfully, he had committed no crime. His only fault was being cursed with a face that always looked like it was mocking others. And out of all the people to tease, why did he choose this particular little “bottom”?

From that moment on, the Qing Emperor underwent a complete personality shift, focusing all his attention on Zhuo Fan. Unfortunately for him, this proud, dignified scholar wasn’t one to be won over easily.

This cheeky “top” was dreaming of pleasure in his bed? Hah! If Xiao Han so much as touched him, Zhuo Fan would either go on a hunger strike or bite his own tongue! And Xiao Han couldn’t help but wonder—why hadn’t Zhuo Fan fought back this fiercely when Prince Wen kissed him?

If force didn’t work, Xiao Han would have to try tenderness. What about a gentle “top” confessing his feelings each night? But Zhuo Fan made it clear—he wasn’t moved by that either.

With both gentleness and force failing, Xiao Han even considered threatening Prince Wen’s life. At that very moment, Zhuo Fan panicked. His kind heart was about to break.

“Prince Wen has only committed one crime—the crime of loving me! He has done nothing wrong. How dare you, you idiot sovereign, threaten an innocent man!”

A thousand more dramatic words could’ve been exchanged right there.

According to the eunuchs in the Changqing Palace, the emperor seemed furious—yet completely helpless in front of his beloved. Every day, he was tormented by remorse, rage, sorrow, and regret. He treated Zhuo Fan like fragile porcelain, constantly afraid of breaking him. Yes, exactly like that!

Dream on. You really are too cute. Maybe your wild imagination comforted you for a second, but the price? Your whole family would’ve paid for it.

So, what was reality?

The Qing Emperor confined Zhuo Fan to his royal apartments, where there was only one bed. At night, as Xiao Han yawned and prepared to lie down, Zhuo Fan looked ready to die. In a voice drained of all life, he declared, “If Your Majesty wants to force himself on me, I can’t stop you. I have no choice but to bite my tongue and die. Your Majesty can only have my corpse.”

Then he shut his eyes, solemn and tragic—like a chaste martyr ready to sacrifice himself for virtue.

Yet after a long silence… nothing happened.

Carefully, Zhuo Fan cracked one eye open—only to find the Qing Emperor rolling his eyes and yawning. “Are you done? If so, go sleep on the sofa outside. I’m going to bed.”

“...”

Want another example?

Noticing Zhuo Fan had no appetite, the Qing Emperor ordered the imperial kitchen to prepare a feast. He piled dishes into Zhuo Fan’s bowl until it looked like a miniature mountain, then ignored him completely and ate by himself.

After his meal, he casually wiped his mouth. Seeing Zhuo Fan still refusing to eat, he frowned and snapped, “Not eating? Fine. I’ll bring Prince Wen to the palace and fuck him a hundred times!”

Zhuo Fan, lips trembling, replied pitifully, “Your Majesty… Prince Wen has done nothing wrong. Why are you taking it out on him just because he was kind to me? Your love—it’s suffocating me…”

“...”

Choke your ass, Xiao Han thought. It’s me who’s choking, okay?!

A wave of nausea suddenly rose in his chest. Had he eaten too much just now? Maybe it was time to call the imperial physician for a checkup.

Many days had passed since Zhuo Fan returned to the palace. Although Xiao Han was mentally irritated every day, he still managed to endure the situation… for now.

But of course, the plot wouldn’t let him live in peace for long.

To push the “top bastard” and the “bottom trash” toward a quick and happy ending, it wasn’t enough for the “top” to repent and start wooing the other. No—an external force was needed to accelerate things.

Xiao Han suddenly felt a dull pain in his balls.

And what was that external force? Several neighboring nations, now allied, were preparing to attack. The Qing Emperor decided to personally lead the troops into battle!

The news sent the palace into an uproar—Zhuo Fan included. Deep down, he didn’t want the Qing Emperor to risk his life, but there was no way he’d lower himself to beg him to stay.

As the war loomed, Xiao Han continued to play the noble emperor. His face remained impassive, brushing off every plea not to go to the front lines. But inwardly, he cursed with abandon. Even that wasn’t enough to express how deeply he wanted to bury this storyline in the mud.

Knowing how the script played out, Xiao Han was aware he wouldn’t die on the battlefield. But he would be hit by an enemy arrow. Badly injured, yes—but not fatally.

He furrowed his brow in bitter thought. He wasn’t afraid of dying. What he dreaded was the pain. If it were up to him, he’d rather drop dead now and skip the whole melodramatic detour.

But the wheels of fate were already turning.

The Qing Emperor, absorbed in war preparations, didn’t notice that another subplot was being woven in the shadows. On the day he was to lead the troops, Zhuo Fan—carefully locked in his rooms—received an unexpected visitor: Prince Wen. And he had a daring plan to abduct his beloved and help him escape the palace.

“Prince Wen, how… how did you get in?”

Seeing how pale and emaciated his beloved was, Prince Wen’s heart twisted. “It doesn’t matter. Come with me! The emperor is leaving. This is your best chance. The battlefield is full of blades and chaos. He may never return. I’ll take you away. This power, this wealth—I don’t want it. Let’s hide, change our names, and never come back. What do you say?”

Zhuo Fan was speechless, stunned. Instinctively, he shook his head. “Prince Wen, I… I can’t ignore that His Majesty is in danger. If you truly care for me, I beg you, accept my request, no matter how cruel it may seem!”

Wen Muyan, who had just made the heartbreaking decision to give up everything for him, didn’t even look surprised by the rejection. He stared blankly at Zhuo Fan, lips trembling. “Speak…”

“I can’t leave the palace. But you can. Prince Wen, I beg you—protect His Majesty for me!”

"…"

The Qing Emperor, in truth, hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But just before departing, he was required—according to the script—to bring Zhuo Fan a branch of plum blossoms.

The script insisted he never stop thinking of Zhuo Fan, even after leaving for war. He feared dying in battle without ever expressing his feelings. So in the end, he abandoned the troops for a moment and returned alone to the palace, intending to present the flowers with a heartfelt confession.

At first, Xiao Han thought it was a cliché. But he hadn’t expected the sheer amount of effort it took to fulfill such an absurdly contrived plot point.

Hearing Zhuo Fan’s “heartfelt words,” Xiao Han scoffed in contempt. If he really meant them, why play the noble martyr after he left? Why not show this tragic love in front of him?

What he didn’t know was that the real tragedy would fall on the cannon fodder.

After accepting Zhuo Fan’s plea to protect the emperor, the idiot prince would end up taking the deadliest arrow meant for the Qing Emperor—and die on the battlefield.

Even in his final moments, he would cling to Xiao Han and mutter his last words: “If you don’t treat Zhuo Fan well, I’ll never let you rest—even in death!”

Look at that—such pure, boundless love. A heart capable of sacrificing everything without a shred of regret.

And so, when the gravely injured Qing Emperor returned and learned what had happened, Zhuo Fan carved Prince Wen’s memory into a permanent place in his heart. This man who died for his happiness… how could he not be touched? Moved? Wracked with remorse? If there was a next life, he would pursue the Qing Emperor and live that beautiful life they were robbed of.

Wen Muyan stood in silence for a long, long time.

Finally, he managed to speak—his voice trembling with righteous fury: “…Well, and your ass!”

“What do you think I am? A sanitary napkin you toss after one use? Even cannon fodder has dignity, you know!”

“You think I’d give up my royal title, my life of luxury—for a fool like you? All those tall, handsome, rich, loyal, doting, manipulative types out there—and I get picked to foreshadow your tragedy?!”

“And you want me to live in your heart forever? Who the hell wants to live in your heart? Is there a bed in there? A fridge? A toilet?”

“This ‘we’ll be happy in the next life’ nonsense—no thanks! Keep that to yourself. If you so much as come near me again, I’ll kick your ass into next week!”

“Why do I always have to be the extra? Why do I have to die to save my love rival? Did your IQ turn into butterflies and flutter away?!”

“You’re always so fragile. Were you a chicken wing in your past life? And even if you suddenly decided you liked KFC better, you didn’t need to rush into McDonald's screaming, ‘Hey, give me a chicken wing!’ Did you ever stop to consider how McDonald’s feels, huh?!”

Zhuo Fan was completely stunned.
Xiao Han was also speechless. He watched the ever-elegant Wen Muyan roar with fury, then stride out of the hall with a furious, yet dignified air.

A few moments later, Xiao Han, replaying the scene in his mind, burst out laughing.

So… McDonald’s and KFC are love rivals? Hahahaha.

Wait—that probably wasn’t the main point. But he couldn’t help it.

“Hahahahahaha—”

He laughed. And laughed.

And finally… died laughing.

 

--

Author's Note: The story arc ends here.

 

Translator : DarNan