"Hahaha… Serena, I've finally done it! I distilled the Meridian Opening Elixir—I did it!"
In the midst of a cluttered laboratory, Ethan Moore clutched a porcelain bottle in his shaking hands, laughter spilling from his lips like someone intoxicated by euphoria.
Crash!
A glass cup slipped to the floor, scattering tea everywhere. At the doorway stood a striking woman clad in a fitted cheongsam, frozen in place. For a long moment, she stared at the now-delirious Ethan, her voice quivering as she finally managed, "Ethan, you… you really succeeded?"
Ethan spotted her—Serena, his longtime lover, who must have come to bring him tea. She looked just as stunned as he felt, the impact of his words so great that it had made her drop the cup.
"Serena, I'm certain this time. No mistake—I tasted half a bottle just now. I could sense a meridian being carved open, like a string of fire racing inside me, unfolding something deep within. Even now, the change goes on. We did it. We've truly done it!"
Clutching the bottle, Ethan marched right up to her, grabbing her trembling hands. "Serena, you've worked so hard these years, all so I could chase this research, so I could chase a future for both of us. Let's get married. We'll start a company, mass-produce this elixir! It won't be long before the whole world knows our names."
Serena finally managed to steady herself. Her voice trembled, caught between hope and fear. "Did you write down the recipe?"
Ethan nodded. "Don't worry, it's all saved on my laptop. Come, I'll show—"
Before he could finish, a cold sensation jolted through his back, slicing all thought away. Agony burst across his chest as a blade thrust itself through him, glimmering silver stained red—a knife straight through his heart, driven from behind.
Waves of dizziness crashed over him, his strength deserting him in rapid succession. He wheeled around in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at Serena's hand on the blade's hilt. His voice broke, fragile as spun glass, "Serena… why? Why?"
Even as the world dimmed and ice seeped through his veins, he still couldn't fathom—why the woman he'd cherished for years, the one he'd trusted beyond all others, would stab him in the back.
"I'm sorry, Ethan, I'm so sorry…" Serena's hands shook violently. Her whole frame shuddered. She had killed her own lover, the one man who would have given her everything without a second thought.
Ethan felt twin tears spring from his eyes—hot—then icy cold on his cheeks. The edges of his vision began to blur and fragment, but he couldn't let go. He kept staring at Serena, clinging to consciousness. "If you wanted the formula… you only had to ask… I would've given it to you… why…"
He didn't cry for his own life. Since childhood, Ethan had never wept for pain or fear. Today his anguish wasn't for the wound in his body, but for the irreparable wound to his heart.
Perhaps even Serena could never know her place in Ethan's heart. For her, he would have gladly given his life. And today, it was she who drove the blade home without mercy.
Silence stretched on, no answer forthcoming. His eyes grew dull, searching for meaning. At last, as if unable to rest without closure, his gaze dropped and his eyes closed. Two beads of grief still clung to his lashes.
Plink—
Now it was Serena's turn—her tears streaming down, falling upon Ethan's face, mingling with and washing away his final tears.
—
A harsh, lonely caw jolted Ethan awake. He looked up just in time to see a solitary crow flapping overhead, its cry fading into the vast emptiness.
Where—am I? Something was wrong. Ethan found himself perched atop a freshly piled mound of earth—as if sitting on a low grave. Kneeling before him, in ill-assorted lines, were seven or eight ragtag children. At his side stood a grass-thin girl in a faded blue floral dress, a woven basket dangling from her arm.
As Ethan tried to make sense of his surroundings, the girl beside him spoke softly, "You all did so well. Candy's all gone for today! Let's play again tomorrow, okay?"
What is this—roleplay? The "emperor holding court" game? The scene nagged at something in Ethan's memory.
Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. Isn't this… isn't this exactly how Murong Fu ended up in that old novel? Losing his kingdom, losing his beloved childhood sweetheart, Wang Yuyan running off with another man. In the end, only his loyal maid Abi remained with him, bringing in children to play games and keep him company as he went mad and delusional.
"My lord, long life to the king! Goodbye! We'll come back for more candy tomorrow!" babbled the children as they scrambled away.
Ethan's gaze wandered, catching on a group of well-dressed youths passing by in the distance. When he saw the girl in the purple dress, for a moment he forgot everything else, stunned by a beauty more breathtaking than imagination.
Her gaze, too, lingered on "Murong Fu"—her face composed of sympathy mingled with something harder to trace, perhaps even disappointment. The others whispered and chuckled, then drifted away.
No—
A chilling realization gripped him. Had he resurrected after death, inhabiting the body of Murong Fu? Did transmigration of the soul truly exist?
Why had his own soul traversed the void? What was he doing just before all this?
Pain lanced through his head and heart as memories began flooding back—Serena's betrayal, the fatal elixir, the world that faded to nothing. Sorrow seeped into every crack of his chest.
An onslaught of confusion, a hurricane of new memories crashed into his mind. It took him an hour—maybe two—to fight back through the storm, to piece together thetruth.
This wasn't Song Dynasty China, nor was he Murong Fu returned from madness.
He wasn't even on Earth. This was Raozhou, capital city of the Chenyu Kingdom, on a distant world governed by laws and legacies unknown to him. He—the person in this new body—had once been a prince; a son of the minor kingdom of North Qin, named Xavier Moore. The name itself, an affectation, honored their overlord—the Hanstar Empire.
The scale of this world defied his comprehension. Empires within empires, vassal states beneath them, principalities serving the lords who answered to even greater sovereigns.
Xavier's grandfather, Theodore Moore, had once brought his family and hopes to the Chenyu capital. From that day, he simply vanished—leaving North Qin without a king. Rules dictated the next ruler had to be personally approved by the kingdom's overlord, complicating the succession.
If Theodore hadn't disappeared, he could have passed the throne on to Xavier's father, Gabriel Moore, with little more than a formal notification. But with no word from Theodore, succession now required recognition in person from the overlord king.
Driven by hope and duty, Xavier's parents brought their infant son to Raozhou: to search for Theodore, and to win the overlord's blessing. What should have been a straightforward process instead dragged on for years, eating away their fortunes and hope.
Through a decade of setbacks, their fortune evaporated. By the time his parents died of illness, Xavier had inherited nothing but their stubborn resolve. But he was left friendless and destitute. Soon his mind frayed—when news reached him that North Qin had been ceded to the Chenyu lords, he finally broke. It was this broken soul that Ethan now inhabited.
Pieces of identity began to align. That girl in purple—she was Maggie Wen, her father once a marquis and a close friend of Xavier's parents. Back when they were children, the two families had mingled closely; it was always presumed Maggie and Xavier would grow up and marry.
But as Xavier's fortunes crashed and sanity failed, so too did the Wen family's patience. Maggie, now grown, slipped away, drifting ever closer to the scions of greater houses.
Just then, two warm tears splashed on the backs of Ethan's hands—hands now clutching his knees. Looking up, he saw a girl's face—scarred, emaciated, worn by hardship, and much younger than this body's supposed age.
She wasn't Abi—her name was Luna Yates, the last loyal soul at his side. A maid and nothing more, yet if not for Luna Yates, Xavier might have already died long before Ethan's soul could take his place.
Luna's pale face and sunken cheeks spoke of years of malnutrition. Her hair was brittle and dull, her eyes always rimmed with sorrow and faint hope.
Something was off. Even for a family in decline, a prince's kin shouldn't have died penniless in a foreign city. Why didn't they return home? Why hadn't North Qin sent guards or gold to help?
Something deeper, more insidious, must have been at work.
Luna noticed his gaze and delicately wiped her red-rimmed eyes. "My lord… may we take leave of the court for today?"
Ethan glanced down at the mound of earth beneath him, equal measures pitying Luna and this body's former owner. Every time she took him away from their "court game," she insisted on formally asking leave.
But regret soon faded, replaced by confusion—should he be grateful for his survival, mournful that his downfall came from the one he loved most, or simply grief-stricken by his exile from Earth?
"My lord, it's getting late…" Luna's voice was barely more than a whisper.
He looked toward the sun sinking behind distant treetops. Was he grieving for Xavier, or for his own fate? He could only sigh. "Let's go home…"
Luna's startled eyes lingered on him. He didn't explain—just sighed again, "Court dismissed."
He tried to stand, shaking off the dirt of the grave beneath him, legs numb from sitting cross-legged for so long. Luckily, Luna caught him before he stumbled.
She helped him through the thinning woods, while Ethan tried to gather the scattered remains of his memory.
"I wonder what kind of world this is…" After a while, Ethan murmured to himself as they walked in silence.
"Sir? What did you say?" Luna looked at him, puzzled.
He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Luna, don't call me 'my lord' anymore. Just use my name."
If they were going to survive together, he would have to explain someday.
"Master, d-do you feel better?" Luna tightened her grip on his hand, eyes brimming with tears, her fingers trembling. Ethan could feel her emotion—so raw, so real.
He hesitated, then managed a smile. "Maybe not fully recovered yet. Much is still hazy to me. But I promise, I'm done with the foolish dreams I once chased."
Not wanting to give himself away, he kept things vague.
Luna looked as if she wanted to say more, but couldn't find the courage. He knew: she wanted to ask if tomorrow they must go back to playing this childish game, afraid any mention of court might reopen old wounds.
He patted her trembling hand gently and smiled. "I've 'ruled' enough for a lifetime. No more of those games tomorrow—we need to start thinking about how to live."
Suddenly, Luna dropped her basket and knelt on the ground, sobbing, her prayers for her master spilling out into the dusk.