Main Story Completed

Liu Mingyi explained, “Zhang Xianzhong has taken over Changsha Prefecture. I originally wanted to bring my father and family to the capital, but the north isn’t safe either. My father also refused to leave his homeland. I remembered that you once said, ‘Hide deep in the southern mountains and forests,’ so I sent people to hide them there.”

After reading the letter, Wei Lan was overjoyed. She had written countless letters to Shunxing over the past two years, but they had all disappeared like stones sinking into the sea, without any response. With the war, letter deliveries were nearly paralyzed—only military correspondence could still barely get through. Now, upon learning that they were all safe, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief and joy.

Liu Mingyi looked down at Wei Lan in his arms, his gaze both gentle and determined. “Tomorrow, I will send people to escort you back to the capital.”

“I’m not leaving.” Wei Lan tightly grasped the hands wrapped around her waist and raised her head, staring straight into his eyes. “Wherever you are, I’ll be there too. Don’t even think about sending me away.” She arched her eyebrows slightly, her tone carrying a hint of stubbornness. “Or are you, Governor Liu, afraid that I’ll be in the way here?”

Liu Mingyi chuckled, lifting her into his lap so that their noses nearly touched. His voice was low and hoarse. “You know why I want you to leave. The battlefield is dangerous, and all I can think about is—what if something happens to you…”

Wei Lan raised her hand to cover his mouth, gently interrupting him. “That’s what I should be saying. Have you ever thought about what would happen to me if something happened to you? Is your idea of making me wait for you just waiting for the news of your death?” Her voice choked with emotion, and her tears soaked the front of her clothes.

Liu Mingyi cupped her chin, carefully examining her tear-streaked face. He gently wiped away her tears with his fingers, then lowered his head to kiss away the salty traces, deepening the kiss until the trembling in her body subsided.

“When the war is over, I will resign,” he murmured against her lips. His hand trailed down her back to the nape of her neck, massaging it gently. “We’ll build a small cottage by the stream, teach the mountain children to read, and treat injured hunters.”

Wei Lan looked up, her eyes still red but carrying a smile. “You said it—no going back on your word.” She pressed her fingertip lightly on the fresh scab on his abdomen.

Liu Mingyi let out a muffled grunt and carried her toward the inner room. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and the canopy curtains fell gently behind them.

…

Afterward, Liu Mingyi held Wei Lan in his arms, his palm resting on the small of her back, remaining still for a long time. Wei Lan listened to the steadying rhythm of his heartbeat, then suddenly heard a quiet sigh above her.

“One lifetime, one person. Is that alright?”

“Yes.” She nestled closer into his neck.

—

At that time, bandits were running rampant throughout the Ming Dynasty, especially in Shaanxi and Henan. Years of drought had left the fields cracked and barren—people had even eaten all the grass roots. Liu Mingyi, following the Chongzhen Emperor’s orders to both suppress and appease the rebels, settled those willing to surrender into agricultural colonies, teaching them to farm again. As for the most stubborn bandit leaders, he ordered the army to hunt them down mercilessly.

However, the chaos of the era only escalated like a snowball rolling downhill. Whenever a village was pacified, a new bandit stronghold would emerge elsewhere, making it seem like an endless battle.

Late at night, Liu Mingyi often sat alone, staring at the map in deep thought. He knew that the Ming Dynasty was like a terminally ill patient, beyond saving—even if the great strategist Liu Bowen were alive, he would be powerless to reverse its fate. The more he pondered, the more he wondered: why must a corrupt regime inevitably fall? Even the illustrious Zhou Dynasty, which lasted 800 years, could not escape destruction. Could the tide of history really be changed by a single person?

What puzzled Liu Mingyi the most was the prophecy left behind by Liu Bowen. The imperial Liu family had long clung to the belief that a descendant would change their fate, yet the secret message passed down to his own generation seemed to foretell an unavoidable catastrophe. Had their ancestor already foreseen this dead end? Perhaps the so-called destiny-changing prophecy was just a comforting illusion for future generations.

The war had become increasingly absurd. To fund the military, the court had to levy more taxes, but the people of Shaanxi had already been drained dry by years of disasters. Honest farmers, having no other options, were driven to join the rebels in their struggle to survive.

Liu Mingyi had just finished suppressing one rebel group when another uprising erupted elsewhere. Though his strategic prowess ensured more victories than losses, the dwindling grain stores and shrinking army numbers were clear indicators—he was merely buying time.

The empire had entered a vicious cycle: war required provisions, provisions meant heavier taxes, heavier taxes drove people to desperation, desperate people became rebels, and the rebel forces grew stronger, making suppression increasingly difficult. Over and over again, until the fall of the Ming Dynasty became inevitable.

Wei Lan remained by Liu Mingyi’s side in the guise of a maid, secretly assisting him in managing affairs. She often studied military strategy books like The Art of War and Essentials of Military Affairs, analyzing terrain and troop formations. However, she was never involved in making final decisions.

One day, Wei Lan received an urgent letter from the capital. A private seal from the Imperial Prince’s household marked the bottom right corner. Her father often urged her to return home, but this was the first time he had used such a solemn seal.

With trembling fingers, she broke the wax seal. Inside, only five words were hastily written: “Mother is critically ill. Return immediately.”

Wei Lan wasted no time. Under the escort of hundreds of elite soldiers sent by the governor, she rode day and night to rush back to the capital.

When she arrived at the Princess’s residence, the entire mansion was shrouded in sorrow. Not only the princess’s household, but much of the city was eerily empty. Many officials and nobles, sensing the impending doom, had already fled. Only the Chongzhen Emperor remained in Beijing—along with her mother, Princess Le’an, and her father, Imperial Prince Gong Yonggu.

Wei Lan rushed into the bedchamber, where the air was thick with the choking scent of medicine. Princess Le’an lay motionless on the bed. When Wei Lan touched her frail wrist, she froze. The body under the silk covers was as thin as paper, her neck tinged with a deathly gray hue. With each breath, her mother’s chest rose and fell like a broken bellows.

“Mother!” Wei Lan frantically pulled back the covers to examine her, finding her mother’s legs swollen and shining. “You’re struggling to breathe, aren’t you? Does your chest hurt? Is there blood in your phlegm?” She felt utterly helpless.

Princess Le’an shook her head weakly and brushed away her daughter’s tears with trembling fingers. “Let me look at you properly, my child.”

She turned to a black-clad guard at the foot of the bed. With her last strength, she whispered, “Commander Huan, your final mission…”

“I swear to protect the Princess’s safety with my life.” Huan Da knelt on one knee.

Princess Le’an held on just long enough to see her daughter one last time. As her strength faded, she took her last breath in Wei Lan’s arms.

Wei Lan clung to her mother’s lifeless form until dawn, only realizing then that her mother’s hands would never be warm again.

By then, the fall of the Ming Dynasty had entered its final countdown.

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