Chapter 1221: The Princess Consort Whose Memories Were Altered (End)

“You’re human, while they’re scum. I like you, not them. How can they even be compared? If you asked me to die, wouldn’t that be asking for my life? How could I bear that?” Tang Guo tilted her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with nothing but sincerity.

The warmth in Beitang Huo’s heart grew scorching hot at those words. Cradling her face in both hands, he leaned down and kissed her lips. Only after a long while did he reluctantly let her go. “The greatest blessing in my life, Beitang Huo’s greatest fortune, was meeting you and receiving your true heart.”

“Did you smear honey on your lips?”

“No, I just ate some. This honey is too sweet—sweet enough to seep into my heart.” Beitang Huo stared at her crimson lips, desperately wanting to steal another kiss. This honey really was unbearably sweet.

System: So mushy.

In the end, the two Shangguan brothers fell into Yun Mujun’s hands.

Yun Mujun merely let out a cold laugh. “Cripple them and sell them to the slave market.”

“You…” Humiliation flashed across Shangguan Yi’s face. Even as fallen rulers, they should not be treated in such a manner.

Yun Mujun’s expression remained indifferent. “You’ve probably forgotten me, haven’t you? Understandable. I was still young then, just an insignificant nobody. It’s only natural that you wouldn’t remember.”

“When the Yun family was framed, my father was executed. I, the son of a criminal, hid among the crowd in a servant’s arms. I heard with my own ears as you discussed how the youngest son of the Yun family had red lips and white teeth and might as well be sold to a male brothel for others to enjoy. You said the descendants of criminals deserved such a fate. I remember every single word. Not one has been forgotten.”

“The old emperor feared nothing more than my father, so he casually framed him.” Yun Mujun laughed wantonly. “Now the wheel of fortune has turned, and it’s my turn. Men, cripple their martial arts and sell them off!”

The brothers had no means of resisting. Their martial arts were destroyed, and because they still possessed decent looks, they were quickly purchased.

For the first couple of years, they lived fairly well. But as they aged, they were sold again and again until eventually they were sent to work in the mines. Rising before dawn and laboring until dark, they were whipped whenever they worked too slowly.

Yet every night, the person they thought of was still Tang Guo. Even though she had become a ruthless woman, all the kindness she had once shown them had been carved deeply into their minds.

“I miss the snacks she used to make,” said Shangguan Yi, his aged and dirt-streaked face no longer recognizable. “They were truly delicious. I want to hear her music again and sleep with my head on the medicinal pillow she made.”

Shangguan Jing looked down at the tattered shoes on his feet and chuckled softly. “The shoes and socks she made were the most comfortable. She was so ingenious, always surprising us with something new. I really want to sleep beneath a silk quilt she made.”

It wasn’t that they were unwilling to remember other things. Despite how cruel she had become toward them, during these endless days of suffering without seeing the light of day, the most vivid and warmest memories in their minds were still the days when she had been with them.

“Stop daydreaming,” said the pitch-black figure leaning against the opposite wall. “This Daoist at least touched upon the threshold of cultivation. And because you, Shangguan Jing, invited me to tamper with memories, I’ve lost not only my cultivation but my freedom as well. At this rate, I’ll probably work myself to death in these mines.”

Daoist Yang truly regretted it.

Tampering with memories was a forbidden art that violated the natural order.

He should never have believed what the manuals said—that using such techniques for evil merely made one susceptible to karmic retribution.

He had thought himself an exception.

Never in his dreams had he expected that he, too, would fail to escape.

“I want to see her,” Shangguan Jing murmured. “Another ten years have passed, haven’t they? If she’s willing to see me just once, I’ll slit my own throat right in front of her.”

Shangguan Yi gazed at the faint sunlight filtering in from outside. He wanted to see her too. Even though she had changed, even though she was no longer the woman she once was, he still could not forget her.

If she were willing to see him, he would gladly die before her eyes immediately, so long as it eased her anger.

Huddled in the corner, Daoist Yang secretly shook his head. These two really had something wrong with their brains. To be willing to die for a woman—the very woman who had reduced them to this state—was truly absurd.

Not long afterward, Shangguan Jing and Shangguan Yi found ways to send letters to Tang Guo. They declared that if she would grant them one meeting, they would immediately die before her and atone with their lives.

When Tang Guo learned of it, she did not even glance at the letters.

“Not interested.”

One morning, Daoist Yang woke to the smell of blood. In the cave, he found the two brothers curled up together, blood flowing from their necks. He walked over and checked them.

Neither was dead.

“Why am I not dead?” both brothers asked at the same time. Since Tang Guo refused to see them, they had used stones to slash their own throats, thinking perhaps she would come if she heard of their deaths.

Daoist Yang sneered. “The rocks were too dull, and neither of you had enough resolve. The cuts weren’t deep, and the blood already clotted. How were you supposed to die? Next time, cut harder.”

They continued living in unbearable misery, no longer daring to slash their own throats with stones. As they reminisced about the past, they suddenly felt that if not for the other brother, perhaps Tang Guo would never have been hurt so deeply.

Then, one morning, Daoist Yang once again smelled blood in the air. Going over to investigate, he found the brothers entangled together, each using a stone to viciously slash the other’s throat.

He touched their bodies and said casually, “Cold. This time, you really cut deep.” Then he laughed. “It doesn’t hurt when you’re cutting someone else instead of yourself. Of course you can bring yourself to do it.”

Tang Jiao spent several decades traveling across the nations and eventually wrote an extraordinarily valuable travel journal. Beitang Huo had copies engraved and distributed for all under heaven to appreciate.

In the end, Tang Jiao still failed to escape Prime Minister Yun Mujun’s crafty traps and was successfully married into his household. Husband and wife often bickered, but they loved each other deeply.

System 222 became even more convinced that in the next world, it absolutely had to assign its host a more difficult mission for training.

This lifetime had simply been too comfortable for her.

Aside from doting endlessly on the treasure of his heart, the thing Beitang Huo devoted himself to most was being a good emperor.

“Ah Huo, why are you so determined to be a good emperor? You work so hard every day.”

Holding Tang Guo in his arms, Beitang Huo replied, “Because bringing blessings to the people and being a good emperor are good deeds. Good deeds accumulate merit. Then, when I die, I can exchange that merit for another chance for us to meet in the next life.”

“Ah Huo, even if you don’t do these things, we’ll still meet.”

Beitang Huo kissed her forehead and whispered softly, “I can’t afford to gamble. Doing it is better than not doing it. Heaven surely grants those with merit priority.”

“Then I’ll help you become a good emperor.”

Postscript:

It is said that in the Northern Yan Kingdom there once lived an emperor and empress who were later revered as the Great Sages. Even after their deaths, countless people enshrined memorial tablets for them in their homes and paid respects to them every day.