It seemed as though after a deep sleep, Emperor Jingxi found himself returned to the age of ten, when his Father Emperor was still alive.
At first, he was bewildered.
However, having read countless classics and understanding the profound mysteries of heaven and earth, that all things in the vast world were possible, he gradually regained his composure after the initial shock.
Since he had been granted such a fateful opportunity, naturally he would not let it go to waste.
With a quick calculation, at this time, not to mention A wu, even A wu’s Duke had not yet been born.
He was not in a hurry to find A wu’s parents; after all, Ning Yinhua was only fourteen or fifteen now and not yet married.
Besides, there were far more important matters he had to handle.
He stayed dutifully and respectfully by his Father Emperor’s side, cautious and diligent, taking the initiative to ask to study the Dao of Kingship.
His Father Emperor was naturally very pleased with such a son, and sensing his child’s reverence and reliance, he felt greatly gratified.
For Emperor Jingxi, who lost his father at a young age and had to shoulder the weight of the world alone—even though he eventually attained supreme power—the journey was fraught with hardships and regrets that lingered in his heart to this day.
So, in this life, he carefully attended to his father’s health, ensuring he overcame that fateful hurdle.
With his father’s lifespan extended, he could now face the coming shifts in power with greater composure.
He, as Imperial Son, assisted his Father Emperor in handling state affairs, took the initiative to request Lu Yunjian to acknowledge his ancestors and return to his clan, gradually dismantled the power of Zhen’an Marquis Manor, and took control of the Eastern Sea ahead of time.
For his Father Emperor, all of this was unexpected; he made up for every regret, leaving his Father Emperor endlessly satisfied with his chosen Imperial Son.
Finally, in Emperor Jingxi’s sixteenth year, the late emperor ascended to the heavens—two years later than in his previous life.
Looking upon the lingering smile on his departed father’s face, Emperor Jingxi felt that in this life, he was spared many regrets.
He ascended the throne smoothly, changed the reign title to Jingxi, and initiated bold reforms.
Everything he had regretted in state affairs in his previous life—he corrected.
Naturally, there were voices of opposition among the courtiers, but beneath the appearance of a teenage emperor was the soul of a ruler who had governed for decades, skilled and steady, and with deep insight into the courtiers’ dispositions, he could easily overcome any challenge.
Now, under the heavens of the Great Hui Dynasty, peace reigned and envoys came from all directions with tribute.
All that he had labored decades for in his past life, he accomplished in just a year or two.
At this point, his marriage could no longer be delayed.
Yet Emperor Jingxi remained unhurried, setting the matter aside for now.
In his past life, having never met A wu, he naturally let things follow their course.
But in this life, he wanted to seek out A wu; he could not marry another, not even for the sake of imperial propriety—he would have no consorts in the harem at all.
He would wait—steadfastly—for A wu.
Of course, when he thought that this life would have neither Mo Yao nor Dening, a faint regret welled up within him.
But only a faint regret.
He and Dening and Mo Yao shared but a single lifetime’s bond.
Perhaps they could be reborn in other families, no longer imperial children, to live different lives.
So, he stubbornly refused consorts in the harem, never touching any woman.
Finally, at the age of eighteen, after settling all affairs, he went hunting by the Eastern Sea, seeking his beloved A wu.
He knew that at this time A wu was still a young child, and he should not be so impatient, but he still wanted to see her as a child.
Surely she was chubby and adorable, making everyone fond of her.
He did not want to approach too soon, lest A wu see him as an elder and think him old, so he planned only to watch her from the shadows.
Thinking of seeing the little A wu, Emperor Jingxi could not suppress his excitement, galloping eastward.
But unexpectedly, he could not find A wu at all.
He searched all over Wanniu Mountain, found no sign of Ning Yinhua, and no A wu.
Suddenly, a cold chill crept up Emperor Jingxi’s spine.
If A wu did not exist in this world at all, what then?
He had returned to the age of ten, worked tirelessly to mend every regret of his past life, making everything perfect—only to change fate, so that A wu would never again suffer displacement, that she would have the love of parents and Duke, and that he himself could embrace his A wu with no ties or burdens.
But now, with no trace of A wu, what could he do?
Contemplating this possibility, Emperor Jingxi was nearly suffocated.
He frantically searched all along the Eastern Sea coast, ordered the local authorities to help, searching for Ning Yinhua, for Yehan, for anyone—any village or person linked to A wu in his past life.
But he found nothing; Zhen’an Marquis Manor had long ceased to exist, and there was no Lu Yunjian, no Ning Yinhua, no Yehan in the Eastern Sea!
The Maritime Bandits never struck as they had in the past; the people here lived in peace and contentment; much was different from his previous life—where could he possibly find A wu?
He was driven nearly mad!
He desperately wanted to reclaim his Empress, Virtuous Consort, even Consort Kang from his former life, to have those children again, to restore things to how they were before, to support Zhen’an Marquis Manor, to revive the Maritime Bandits—he wanted everything back!
He wanted A wu!
Had he made a mistake, taken a wrong step?
Why was there no A wu?
How could he ever get her back?
Emperor Jingxi sat dazed, clutching the reins, looking back at the distant sea.
Sunlight pierced the clouds, casting golden rays upon the sea, where the waters blended orange and blue, brilliant and magnificent.
In the distance, fishermen rowed their boats home, children laughed and chased each other on the sand.
Such a world was surely the most beautiful—except, there was no A wu!
In a population of ninety million in the Great Hui Dynasty, he could no longer find that girl called A wu.
If there was no A wu in this world, why should he remain here!
Emperor Jingxi’s pain twisted his insides; he could not breathe, could barely stand.
Why was A wu gone?
Why should he remain here all alone!
He wanted to go back, even if he grew old and had nothing left—so long as A wu was by his side, it would be enough.
Amidst this agony, Emperor Jingxi suddenly heard a soft voice: “Your Majesty?”
It was A wu!
He frantically looked around, turned in place, but everything grew distant, then blurred.
“Your Majesty, wake up, you’re having a nightmare, I’m here!” It was A wu’s voice—she shook Emperor Jingxi anxiously.
Following A wu’s voice, Emperor Jingxi slowly woke.
He opened his eyes, and through the haze, saw A wu’s worried gaze.
A wu was holding him, her heart aching.
“What’s wrong, Your Majesty? Having a nightmare?”
The pain of the dream still clung to Emperor Jingxi like a dense fog.
Through that heavy mist, he looked at the woman before him—his A wu had clearly just been woken by him, the corners of her eyes still tinged with red.
She gently stroked his cheek and asked, “What did you dream about?”
Emperor Jingxi finally emerged from that terrible nightmare.
He held A wu tightly, greedily drinking in her fragrance, murmuring, “I dreamt I was in a strange place, where everything was perfect—except my A wu wasn’t there…”
A wu laughed, “Your Majesty, you’re being silly—how can you believe what happens in a dream?”
She gave him a soft kiss, her voice tender, “A wu is right here, holding Your Majesty all along.”
Emperor Jingxi smiled gently and hugged her even closer.
“Yes, my A wu has always been by my side, never leaving me.”
He buried his head in A wu’s arms, still thinking of all that had happened in the dream—he had lived eight years there, it all felt so real, like a dream of the Southern Branch.
The happiness before his eyes felt almost unreal, so sweet his heart trembled.
These years had been smooth overall; the Great Hui Dynasty was prosperous and strong, maritime trade now flourished overseas, and now the Second Prince and the princess had grown up and were ready to bear the weight of the state.
His worries gradually eased—he had paved the way for his children, and after his own time passed, the Second Prince could rule wisely and peacefully in a golden age.
In truth, his health was excellent now, and he looked much younger than his age; his marriage was harmonious.
Holding A wu, he bent down and kissed her cheek.
“Thank goodness you woke me, or I’d have been trapped in that nightmare forever.”
A wu kissed him back and hugged his waist in comfort and said, “I’m always here, what nightmare? It’s just a dream, why are you so frightened?”
Her voice was soft and pouty, with a trace of playful blame, but Emperor Jingxi found it endearing.
To have someone like this who would act spoiled before him, even when scolding him, was something he enjoyed from the bottom of his heart.
As emperor, he faced many—courtiers, generals, female officials, eunuchs. Before everyone else, he was always the high and mighty ruler; even before his own children, he had his dignity.
Only with her could he be himself.
He lowered his gaze, looking gently at the woman in his arms—now in her thirties, pampered for years and glowing with health, her snowy skin half visible, her curves graceful and enchanting.
He gripped A wu’s waist, beginning to move slowly.
Clearly, A wu understood him as well, responding in her own subtle way.
Emperor Jingxi was not young anymore, and their age gap seemed even more apparent now.
An emperor was still a man, and at a certain age, his desire for such things was not as strong or frequent as before.
But he had excellent self-control, kept himself in good health, exercised, ate carefully, and his stamina was better than most.
Even at this age, he could satisfy her most of the time.
Of course, sometimes they were out of sync, but he was open and accepting, trying other ways to please her—mouth, hands, and more.
In those times, A wu felt especially cherished and content, cared for by him in every way.
This all-powerful emperor, he was willing to bow his head, admit he couldn’t always be at his best, and was not ashamed to use other means to please her.
Compared to obstinate pride, stubborn denial, or using medicine to force himself for the sake of male dignity, she far preferred his honesty.
She even thought, perhaps only someone as strong as him could be so magnanimous in this matter.
Of course, she dared not touch his sore spot—she had once joked about the young, strong guards, and he really took it to heart.
After that first time, she never dared again.
That was the first time she truly realized she had the advantage of youth before him; this old man was secretly afraid he wasn’t enough, that she might fancy a younger man.
She tried to soothe him; he seemed comforted, but who could say what he really thought…
But at this moment, both desired each other, so everything flowed gently, like water streaming quietly.
Yet in a certain instant, the man became like a sudden storm, waves crashing wildly against the shore; A wu was almost overwhelmed, barely able to cling to his broad back and feel the force of his narrow waist.
In the haze, she saw the bulging muscles on those broad shoulders, powerful and sharp.
Who would have thought—at his age, he still had such explosive vigor!
A wu was completely lost in the pleasure.
After a long time, everything finally quieted.
Emperor Jingxi cradled A wu, softly stroking her back.
Every gesture was full of tender affection, and from time to time, he bent to kiss her forehead.
A wu, like a cat, purred in his arms, “So tired…”
Emperor Jingxi laughed fondly, “You’re always too lazy.”
A wu rolled over softly, not even opening her eyes she said, “I feel a bit hungry…”
Emperor Jingxi laughed, “You’re about to fall asleep, and still thinking about food.”
Suddenly, A wu perked up, looking at him with bright dewy eyes she made a request, “I want cheese cake!”
Emperor Jingxi: “In the middle of the night—”
A wu: “I just want to eat it!”
Emperor Jingxi smiled, kissed her hair, and gave the order to have it made.
The room fell quiet for a time, as he held her soft, fragrant body, thinking again of that dream.
The dream had been so real, that even now, thinking of it, he was still afraid.
‘Thank goodness—it was only a dream.’