After Being Mistakenly Taken for a Fellow Traveler by Emperor Long Aotian - Chapter 147

Chapter 147: “I Need to Praise You More!”

What were you born for?

For Xie Zhengqing, his birth was laden with the expectations of the entire Xie family. He was the legitimate son of Lady Xie and the future heir of the Xie family. His life was destined to be a smooth path, adorned with flowers and grandeur.

For Zhou Cai, his birth was a moment of pride for the Ye family. As the beloved great-grandson of the Zhou family’s matriarch, the Zhou family spared no effort in raising him, hoping he would revitalize their lineage.

For Li A’ruo, her birth was accompanied by the blessings of her parents. Although her family was impoverished, her older brother, Little Li, sat by the window, eyes wide with joy, watching over his newborn sister.

…This was the story of everyone’s birth.

When Zhou Xun returned to the Zhou residence, he heard clattering noises coming from inside the bedroom as he approached—almost as if a grand construction project was underway.

Zhou Xun: ?

He lifted the curtain and peeked inside, only to see the emperor sitting at the table, frowning deeply as he used a small hammer to…

Bang, bang, bang—smash walnuts.

Zhou Xun: …

“You’re back? I just cracked these. Here, for you—good for the brain!” The emperor beamed as he offered a plate of walnuts to Zhou Xun. He picked up one he had just been working on and added, “This one was a bit tough. I accidentally…”

Zhou Xun silently stared at his palm.

The emperor: “…smashed it into a little pancake.”

The rather undignified walnut met its end in the trash bin. Zhou Xun sat down next to him, picked up a piece, and began eating. The emperor said, “Before my college entrance exams, my mom would always nag my dad to crack walnuts for me—said they were brain food. She even made chicken soup every day! Later, she claimed my score of 680 was all thanks to her efforts. Hehe… We’ve both been busy lately. The situation in Xiliang is under control now, and things with Northern Wei are improving too. Our artillery worked wonders! It’s all thanks to you rooting out the spies. So, eat up—recharge that brain of yours!”

This was the first time Zhou Xun heard the emperor mention his family.

“Your Majesty’s parents sound very much in love.”

“They were childhood sweethearts, growing up in the same courtyard. Later, they had me. When I was young, they’d go traveling every six months—just the two of them. During school breaks, they’d take me along. While I was at school, they’d leave me with my grandma and send me postcards from all over the world—Rome, Paris, even Antarctica to see penguins. I’ve got a whole album of them.” The emperor chuckled. “Dad used to say, ‘A real man takes the love of his life to see the best sights this world has to offer.’”

Zhou Xun observed the emperor. He always seemed to radiate unclouded happiness. Perhaps only someone from such a loving family could freely share their warmth and sunshine without expecting anything in return.

“Do you miss them?” Zhou Xun asked, thinking of the warm, harmonious family the emperor described. Surely, he must miss his parents dearly…

But the response he received was unexpected.

“Actually, they passed away during my senior year of college—in a car accident, both of them together. I saw my dad one last time in the hospital. He told me he was proud of me for getting a full scholarship to a top university for my PhD. Both he and Mom were at peace, proud of how I turned out. Oh… a PhD is a degree where you do a lot of research. And yeah, I was pretty awesome, getting into a program straight after my undergrad!”

Zhou Xun didn’t know what to say. He clenched the hem of his garment and softly muttered, “I’m sorry.”

After a long pause, he whispered, “You must have been… heartbroken.”

Zhou Xun had never experienced a normal family relationship. His father had always been cold and disdainful, and his mother only tended to his injuries when he was hurt. Occasionally, she would hold him when he cried. But such moments of comfort were fleeting and rare. More often, she would coldly push him away, then retreat to her room to cry alone. Zhou Xun would sit outside her door, feeling as though the entire world was drenched in rain.

Even so, when he heard of his mother’s death, Zhou Xun felt an overwhelming pain, as if his connection to the world had been ripped away.

His mother may have been distant, but she was still his mother—the sole proof of his existence. Her death left him feeling uprooted, suffocated, and desperate. That desperation eventually drove him to attempt an assassination on the emperor.

The emperor, however, had a family filled with warmth. From his scattered recollections, Zhou Xun glimpsed a world he could only dream of—a family so perfect it felt almost unreal.

So… how deeply had the emperor grieved?

He had wanted to die back then. What about the emperor?

“Actually, I coped okay. I was in a slump for about a month, skipping all my classes. But then I saw a photo of my dad and thought, I can’t go on like this. Dad and Mom wouldn’t want to see me this way. I figured Dad would prefer to see me thriving a year later, bringing wine to their graves while sharing all my adventures. So, I decided to keep moving forward.” The emperor scratched his head and smiled brightly. “Looking back, I feel lucky to have had them in my life for over twenty years.”

“And I looked at all the postcards they sent me. The only place they hadn’t been was the Arctic. So, I made a trip there myself. I even told a polar bear, ‘Dad, I’ve helped you and Mom complete your journey around the world!’” The emperor laughed. “I’m their legacy in this world. They trusted me to live well, and I can’t let them down. This world is so beautiful. When I saw the auroras, I felt like they were talking to me. I believe their departure was just the beginning of another journey, and that gives me strength to live on.”

Zhou Xun didn’t understand some of the words, but the emperor’s message left him stunned.

He felt his throat dry, like a startled cat, unsure and shaken. “…Is that all?”

The world the emperor described felt so foreign—like an impossible dream. The emperor hadn’t wanted to die. Instead…

“And now!” The emperor suddenly grew serious. “The task of filling the blank pages of my family’s photo album, the white album, is up to you and me!”

With that, he patted Zhou Xun’s shoulder and declared, “Once the war ends and peace reigns, it’ll be our turn to explore the world together. What do you say? A writer once said, ‘The world is vast and beautiful, full of dreams and ideals—and me.’”

“That writer is probably you,” Zhou Xun murmured.

The emperor chuckled. “Exactly.”

The two lay down to sleep, still dressed. In the quiet of the night, the emperor suddenly grabbed Zhou Xun’s hand and said, “Actually, I…”

He hesitated and said, “A month ago, I shouldn’t have scolded you for taking over the Ziyi Envoy matter without permission.”

Zhou Xun thought for a long time before remembering the incident. It seemed that the emperor had indeed been furious about it that day. He replied, “I’ve already forgotten about it. Why do you still remember?”

“Of course, I remember. I’ve been reflecting on it during my downtime recently, and I feel like I was wrong.”

“I really don’t remember,” Zhou Xun said. “Besides, it was my own decision.”

“From a public standpoint, taking on the mission was the right thing to do. You were the best choice, and the results proved your ability. So, I was wrong.” The emperor’s voice grew calm. “On a personal level, first, my attempt to stop you from doing it was completely irrational and selfish. That was my first mistake. And second, as your boyfriend, I didn’t provide the solid support you needed. Instead, I made you feel insecure, as if you had to be ready for criticism no matter what you did. That was my fault too.”

Zhou Xun: …

In the darkness, he quietly reached out to grab the emperor’s hand, only to find that the emperor was reaching for him too.

Their fingers intertwined.

“Besides, you really did a great job,” the emperor said, holding his hand. “If it were me, I might have resorted to interrogating that… courtesan spy to make her talk. But then she wouldn’t have revealed nearly as much. So, I think you’re amazing. By the way, have you heard of the term ‘marginalized person’?”

“What’s a marginalized person?”

“It’s something I thought about after hearing Madam Lu’s story and Li A’ruo’s story. Marginalized people are those who… how should I put it? Imagine a square where people are gathering, and someone is filming them. The cheerful and vibrant individuals stand in the center of the square, under the spotlight, laughing and socializing. Meanwhile, the marginalized people stand in the corners, avoiding attention. They don’t feel like they belong there, nor do they think they deserve to be in the spotlight… But you’re different. You light up those corners. You’re the savior of the marginalized, and you’ll continue to be.”

The emperor spoke earnestly.

“That’s an exaggeration, Your Majesty. Are you trying to flatter me?” Zhou Xun said softly.

“Because you’ve done great things, I want you to be happier in the future.”

“Helping you already makes me very happy,” Zhou Xun replied.

He knew the emperor’s dreams and goals. The emperor had brought the wonders of another world to this one, wanting to illuminate it.

And he wanted to be by his side, helping him achieve that dream.

“That’s not the same.”

The emperor wrapped his arms around Zhou Xun’s waist, and he felt the warmth of an embrace from behind. The emperor rested his head on Zhou Xun’s shoulder, murmuring, “Being happy for me and being happy for yourself are two different things. I want you to know that you’ve done things that are truly worth being happy about.”

Zhou Xun froze for a moment and heard the emperor say, “I want you to feel that your life is happy. I want you to pursue your role as a Ziyi Envoy out of your own beliefs, not just to carry a burden for me. I want you to feel that you have a world that belongs to you. So—”

“I need to praise you more!” The emperor hugged him and chuckled.

Zhou Xun nodded vigorously. Thankfully, he was facing away from the emperor, so the emperor couldn’t see the sudden redness in his eyes. The emperor said, “You had a hard time growing up. Sometimes I think, if only I could’ve crossed over sooner and met you back then. But I know there are some things I couldn’t replace, even if I had.”

Zhou Xun turned around and buried his head in the emperor’s chest.

The emperor didn’t finish what he was going to say.

What he wanted was for Zhou Xun to love more than just him.

He wanted Zhou Xun to love his work, this courtyard, the friends and people around him, traveling, the flowers and the world, and eventually…

To love himself.

To love Zhou Xun himself. He wanted Zhou Xun to feel proud of himself and every scar he bore. He wanted Zhou Xun to see all the beauty in the world and to know that he deserved it.

After all, in his eyes, Zhou Xun was so kind and strong. The emperor saw everything Zhou Xun had done.

The night deepened. The two fell asleep. When the moonlight cast its glow on Zhou Xun’s shoulder, he woke up.

He got up and retrieved a note from a crack by the bedside.

It was the note that had been haunting him, written in the handwriting of someone who was supposed to be “dead.”

He held the note in his hand, and the long-buried thorn of resentment and pain within him—festering and wounded—finally stirred.

At last, he had the courage to pull it out.

Because…

He looked at the sleeping emperor and smiled faintly.

Now, he had the strength and support to face this. Even if it meant reopening his festering wounds—his deep-seated loathing for his origins and the questions that had plagued him since seeing the note: “Why didn’t you come for me?” “Why was I abandoned again?”

“Mother.” In the moonlight, Zhou Xun clenched the note tightly in his hand. “I’m starting now.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said, “I will uncover the truth and protect everything I hold dear.”