Feng Zhaoxuan suddenly perked up, her peach-blossom eyes narrowing slightly.
【A system-certified pure romance?】
【Those three just now—every single one of them had emotional perception disorders.】
【This time… it should finally be a real ‘love’, right?】
The system cleared its throat, its tone unusually solemn.
【Host, this one is heavyweight.】
【He is—Eunuch Wang Dehai, the Grand Eunuch who follows His Majesty everywhere every single day.】
That sentence was like a ladle of cold water poured into boiling oil.
Inside the Golden Throne Hall, hundreds of gazes instantly shifted in unison.
All of them locked tightly onto the dark blue-robed figure standing respectfully beside the dragon throne.
Wang Dehai?
That eternally deferential, emotionally stable eunuch?
He… understands love?
Many officials exchanged confused glances, their minds already racing wildly.
Was it the pretty new palace maid in the laundry bureau?
Or some middle-aged noble lady from an official household?
Feng Zhaoxuan froze for half a second.
【System, did you forget to run a virus scan?】
【Eunuch Wang… he’s missing everything down there. Even the “tools” are gone!】
【Where exactly is he supposed to plant this “love root”? Pure Plato? Spiritual resonance?】
“Pff—cough cough cough!”
The Crown Prince nearly choked on his breath. His face turned the color of liver, and he dug his nails into his thigh just to avoid losing composure in court.
“‘Tools are gone’…”
That’s just too vicious!
Princess Sanzhao buried her head even lower, her shoulders trembling as if she were shaking a sieve.
The officials’ expressions were a masterpiece of chaos.
They wanted to laugh—but couldn’t.
Wanted to ask—but dared not.
Each of them twitched their facial muscles, eyes darting wildly between the Emperor and Wang Dehai.
Only Wang Dehai himself remained still.
The ever-perfect smile he wore like a mask… cracked.
All color drained from his face in an instant, leaving it ghostly pale.
His grip tightened on his whisk so hard that his knuckles turned white—an involuntary reaction of sheer panic.
It was over.
That name he had buried beneath decades of dignity…
Was about to be dragged into the sunlight and torn open for all to see.
On the dragon throne, Emperor Xiao Juechen slowly turned his head.
His gaze, deep and unreadable, landed on the old companion beside him.
Fifteen years.
Wang Dehai had served him for fifteen years.
He knew all his moods, handled all his private affairs—more perceptive than a worm in his own stomach.
Xiao Juechen had always thought of him as the perfect blade: loyal, emotionless, shadowlike.
He never expected…
That the shadow had been hiding something like this.
【Host, broaden your perspective!】
The system spoke with righteous conviction, almost tragic in tone.
【True love transcends physical imperfection!】
【Wang Dehai’s beloved is none other than—Concubine Jing, the one personally demoted to the Cold Palace fifteen years ago by His Majesty!】
Concubine Jing.
Those three words made Xiao Juechen’s pupils shrink slightly.
A long-buried memory was forcibly pried open.
A woman, cold and lotus-like, surfaced in his mind.
In the harem of three thousand beauties, everyone else tried every trick to seduce him—every smile carved with desire.
Only she.
She looked at him like he was nothing more than a roadside stone—indifferent, unmoved.
That indifference wounded the pride of a young emperor.
Later, when she was accused of stealing the imperial seal, he simply stood by and watched as she was stripped of her title and thrown into the Cold Palace.
He wanted to break her arrogance.
Wait for her to kneel and beg.
But she never did.
Fifteen years.
She seemed to have died quietly in his memory.
Until today.
Xiao Juechen suddenly turned toward Wang Dehai, realization flashing in his eyes.
Then came anger.
So that was it.
No wonder this old eunuch insisted on personally delivering supplies to the Cold Palace every month, claiming it was “inspection of the Inner Court’s administration.”
He wasn’t preventing embezzlement at all.
He was nourishing his beloved in his own way.
A complicated emotion surged within the emperor—absurdity, shock, and even a faint bitterness of “betrayal.”
【And don’t be fooled by his current identity as a eunuch.】
The system continued coldly.
【His original name was Wang An. At nineteen, he gave up wealth, marriage, and descendants.】
【He personally severed himself—cutting off his own “root”—just to enter the palace and see her once.】
【Wha—WHAT?!】
Feng Zhaoxuan was completely stunned.
【Rich second generation… nineteen years old… he CUT IT HIMSELF?!】
【That’s not just ruthless—that’s a monster!】
【Just to see his beloved once, he castrated himself? How deep does this love go?!】
The hall fell into absolute silence.
Every man present felt a chill run between their legs.
Nineteen—the age of youth, ambition, and vitality.
And yet he severed his own future… for a woman he could never have.
Grand Secretary Zhao opened his mouth so wide his jaw nearly dropped.
This… is no ordinary eunuch.
This is a saint of love who cut away desire itself.
Prince Feng Huai’an’s expression turned complicated.
Such extreme devotion.
Such merciless action toward oneself…
It was enough to shake any man’s soul.
【Host, want to see their story?】
【Yes! Absolutely yes! I can’t wait!】
Feng Zhaoxuan nodded excitedly in her mind.
A light screen slowly unfolded above the Golden Hall.
The image gradually became clear.
Twenty-some years ago, Jiangnan.
Spring afternoon.
Willow catkins drifted through warm winds.
On the wall of an abandoned temple lay a richly dressed young man.
Sharp brows, bright eyes, a handsome and carefree noble youth.
Sixteen-year-old Wang An.
His gaze passed over the broken courtyard wall and landed, dazed, on a courtyard below.
Under a osmanthus tree stood a girl in plain clothes reading a storybook.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering golden fragments across her shoulders.
She frowned, sighed, then suddenly smiled.
She threw down the book, picked up a branch, and began acting out a scene.
“Ha! Villain, show yourself!”
Her voice was bright and spirited as she played both roles.
Then she lowered her tone, pretending to beg:
“Mercy, miss—I only admire your grace!”
She laughed at her own performance, like a bell ringing through the courtyard.
And that sound… pierced the wall.
And pierced the boy’s heart.
So vivid.
So alive.
The boy on the wall froze, even forgetting to breathe.
【So this is… love at first sight.】
Feng Zhaoxuan sighed inwardly.
【Gentle in reading, wild with a branch as a sword, and secretly a drama queen.】
【That kind of contrast… it really kills.】
【No wonder he remembered her for life, even gave up being a man for it.】
The officials fell silent.
From the radiant youth on the screen…
To the broken old man standing in shadow today.
A deep tragedy filled the hall.
The image shifted.
From that day on, Wang An became a frequent visitor to that wall.
His young heart slowly sank, beyond return.
Finally, one day…
He gathered the courage to learn her identity.
The system’s voice turned distant, almost sighing.
【And thus… the most tragic thread of fate was woven.】
【No way… are we about to get hit by another knife again?】
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