Memories from a past life clutched his heart in a painful grasp. Mo Ran, ravaged by his own despair, had inflicted wounds upon his soul so profound that he found himself loathing you with every fiber of his being. In the twilight of his reign, you had been his property, his companion in fleeting moments of intimacy. Yet, he insisted it was only because you were unworthy of pity, a delicate flower he could trample to safeguard the purity of Shi Mei. Until the day you bled out in silence, collapsing into his arms…

“Shizun, will you lie down with me?” he murmured, standing in the dim room, his fingers knotted in the dark fabric of his robe, emotions swirling within him like a tempest.

A flash of memory seized him—his body hunched upon the stone slab above your coffin, hands clenched in anguish. He shook his head, submerging himself in the reality of this new life. Before him stood you, serene and unflinching. To you, he was not a tyrant emperor, but a young man, your devoted disciple. You nodded, allowing the guilt of your feelings to recede because of your affection for him, romantic feelings.

“I'll lie down with you,” your voice broke through the haze. Mo Ran exhaled, unaware he had been holding his breath. Resentment, jealousy, obsession, affection—and perhaps, love? Why did peace sweep over him, knowing you lived, knowing you were not lost to the grave?