Quan Heng felt powerless, sobbing as if she couldn’t breathe, letting Wen Zheng hold her in his arms.
But they were still on a battlefield. Enemies surrounded them.
Wen Zheng, trying to protect her, was ambushed multiple times and suffered several injuries. Quan Heng panicked. “Ah Zheng, what do we do now?”
“You’re hurt—will you be alright?”
Wen Zheng sighed, “It’s nothing. Just some minor injuries. But this battlefield is too dangerous. You can’t stay here any longer.”
Just then, Wen Zheng spotted Quan Minghao fighting his way toward them.
He said a quick word to Quan Heng, then pushed her toward Quan Minghao. “My lord, please—protect Ah Heng for me.”
Quan Minghao caught his daughter and said in a low voice, “Don’t worry. Heng’er is my daughter. Even without you saying so, I’ll protect her.”
Soon, Quan Heng was brought to the edge of the battlefield, hidden behind a large boulder.
Two guards crouched beside her, swords in hand, keeping a wary watch.
Clearly, they were there to protect her.
Once assured she was safe, Quan Minghao returned to the battlefield to continue fighting Dongyang’s soldiers.
Quan Heng watched Wen Zheng and her father with bated breath, terrified something might happen to them.
Even though she wasn’t fighting personally, cold sweat drenched her back. Her heart was anxious and unsettled.
She couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.
This battle lasted a full day and night.
By dusk the next day, it ended in Dongyang’s defeat and retreat.
When Wen Zheng severed Yan Kong’s head, all of Great Jin’s soldiers erupted in cheers.
With Dongyang’s strongest general killed, they wouldn’t dare invade again for the next twenty years.
As for the remaining fleeing soldiers, they were all severely wounded—no threat at all.
General Zhenbei led the Great Jin soldiers back to camp. That night, they celebrated their victory.
Once the battlefield had cleared, Wen Zheng finally approached Quan Heng, nervous.
He knelt before her on one knee, tears in his eyes.
Knowing they had things to say, Quan Minghao silently left, not wanting to intrude.
Now, all was quiet. It felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them.
For a moment, Wen Zheng didn’t know how to speak.
This past month, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Heng’er dying before him.
Now, she stood alive before him. It felt unreal.
Was this real? Was Heng’er truly alive?
This time—would she disappear if he touched her?
With that in mind, he looked up at the one he loved and, gathering all his courage, slowly said:
“Ah Heng… I’m sorry. All this time, I’ve owed you an apology.”
“Back then, I imprisoned you. That was wrong of me. Even if I had my reasons, it doesn’t excuse it. Everything is over now—I’ll never do that to you again. Please… forgive me, will you?”
Quan Heng said nothing, only letting her tears fall. Wen Zheng, anxious, instinctively gripped her sleeve.
The crown prince who could slay a thousand enemies on the battlefield now trembled before the girl he loved, not daring to speak carelessly.
Seeing her still silent, he thought she was angry and hurried to explain.
“I… I know I went too far. Even if I had my reasons, I shouldn’t have ignored your wishes and taken your freedom.”
“I was an idiot. A complete b*stard.”
At this point, Wen Zheng’s voice trembled with tears, his chest tightening.
But the girl before him still gave no response. She only hung her head as tears fell, one drop after another.
Somehow, Wen Zheng suddenly recalled the scene on the battlefield—when she cradled Shen Zhengyu’s corpse and wept.
A numbness spread in his chest, followed by a sharp, needle-like pain.
Perhaps, the one Ah Heng truly loved… really was Shen Zhengyu.
Now, he had died to save her, and in such a tragic manner. It was likely that in Ah Heng’s heart, he would always have a place—etched there for life, impossible to erase.
And yet, even so, Wen Zheng still wanted to fight—just a little more—for himself.
Gritting his teeth, his voice trembling, he humbly pleaded, “Ah Heng… Shen Zhengyu, I will see to his proper burial.”
“If the one you truly love in your heart has always been him and not me, then… you can treat me as his substitute.”
In that short sentence, Wen Zheng had all but trampled his own dignity into the mud.
Enduring the violent ache in his chest, he whispered, “…As long as you can look at me a bit more, love me a bit more, and let me stay by your side… that’s enough.”
“…Alright?”
At that moment, he heard the person in front of him softly say: “Fool.”
Wen Zheng looked up in surprise, only to see the young woman gently cupping his face, her voice tender: “The one I’ve always loved… has always been you.”
“I didn’t speak just now because I was thinking… we haven’t seen each other for only a month, but your hair has already turned this white. You must have been in so much pain.”
“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have left you in such a resolute and cruel manner. I hurt you.”
Hearing Quan Heng’s words, the unease and bitterness in Wen Zheng’s heart gradually faded, replaced by overwhelming joy.
He pulled Quan Heng into his arms and said joyfully, “Ah Heng, do you really no longer blame me? …The one you love is really me, not him?”
Quan Heng reached out and gently patted his back, answering every question, “Yes. During our time apart, I already learned the truth and understood that you had your reasons back then. I’ve long since stopped blaming you.”
“And, the person I’ve always loved has been you. From childhood until now, I’ve only ever seen Shen Zhengyu as an older brother. I never had any improper thoughts toward him.”
“Perhaps in others’ eyes, the two of you resemble each other, but to me, you are both unique. I could never confuse you.”
Having received Quan Heng’s clear answer, Wen Zheng’s tears flowed uncontrollably.
He buried his head in the crook of her neck and cried like a child.
Quan Heng didn’t interrupt him. She simply stayed quietly by his side, letting him release all the pain he had held in.
She knew—in this time apart, he must have been unable to eat, unable to sleep, constantly anxious, and in deep torment.
But it was alright. From now on, the two of them—would never be separated again.
***
By the time Wen Zheng and Quan Heng returned to the palace, the sky was already starting to brighten.
As soon as they reached the entrance to Yangxin Hall, they saw a crowd gathered there. At the forefront stood General Zhenbei and Marquis Yongning.
They were surrounded by numerous ministers, all voicing their opinions on the recent war.
As soon as Wen Zheng entered, the crowd surged forward and surrounded the two of them.
Finally, it was General Zhenbei who spoke first: “Your Highness, if not for your command in this war, our Great Jin would have long fallen to the Dongyang people’s schemes. Now that the late emperor is gone, as the heir apparent, it is only right for you to ascend the throne as soon as possible!”
At these words, all the ministers around them knelt in unison, calling out: “We beseech Your Highness to ascend the throne!”
For a moment, the scene was overwhelming. Even Quan Heng was stunned.
At last, Wen Zheng helped the general to his feet and said, “Very well.”
With that one promise, the ministers were reassured, and smiles gradually returned to their faces.
Wen Zheng continued, “In this campaign, General Zhenbei rendered unparalleled service. He shall be granted the title of Zhenbei Wang, and his noble title shall be hereditary. Furthermore, Marquis Yongning shall be elevated to Duke Yongning.”
Then he added, “As for the Second Prince… Wen Zhengyu, he shall be posthumously conferred the title of Anqin Wang and buried in the imperial mausoleum.”
These words stirred discussion among the crowd.
An elderly minister hesitated and said, “The Second Prince was raised among the common folk, and his name was never entered into the imperial jade register. Is this… truly appropriate?”
Wen Zheng turned a cold gaze on him. “Precisely because the royal family wronged him, he must be compensated. Moreover, without his bold maneuver to lure the enemy deep into our ranks, this great victory would have been difficult to achieve, wouldn’t it?”
In that instant, Wen Zheng radiated an overwhelming presence. The surrounding ministers no longer dared to speak and fell completely silent.
Seeing that there were no more objections, Wen Zheng turned to Quan Minghao, took a deep breath, and gathered his courage. “There is one more matter… I ask for your blessing.”
He took Quan Heng’s hand, and the two stood side by side. Then, he declared, “I wish to marry Ah Heng. She will be my only wife, and I shall take no concubines. One lifetime, one couple. Please grant your blessing.”
Before Quan Minghao could respond, the ministers erupted in protest. “This must not be! How can an emperor’s harem consist of only one consort? He must take more wives to ensure a flourishing lineage!”
Wen Zheng looked at them coldly. “So now you presume to make decisions for me?”
At his words, the ministers trembled as if a beast had locked eyes on them, afraid to utter another word.
They knew—if they dared to say more now, they’d be torn apart. Wen Zheng had always been known for his ruthless nature, only showing some restraint in the past two years.
When working under him, it was best to keep one’s mouth shut.
Seeing the ministers no longer object, Wen Zheng turned back to Quan Minghao and knelt on one knee, sincerely saying, “If you are willing to entrust Ah Heng to me, I swear—I will cherish her with all that I have. I will never fail her. I mean every word.”
Quan Minghao sighed with relief and turned to ask, “Heng’er, this decision is yours. Are you willing?”
Quan Heng smiled without the slightest hesitation. “I am.”
Quan Minghao nodded and turned to Wen Zheng. “Very well. From this day forward, I entrust Heng’er to you. If you ever wrong her, I will fight you to the death, no matter the cost.”
Wen Zheng gripped Quan Heng’s hand tighter. The two of them shared a smile. “I will never fail her.”
Three days later, Wen Zheng’s coronation and Quan Heng’s enthronement as empress were held on the same day, in a grand and magnificent ceremony.
To show his heartfelt sincerity, Wen Zheng issued a general amnesty, reduced taxes and labor, bringing peace and joy to the people.
He also changed the imperial examination cycle from once every three years to once a year, giving more opportunities to scholars.
The entire realm rejoiced and praised him.
From then on, the love story of this young couple became a legend, celebrated through the ages.
The boy and girl who had first met under the snowy cliffs—at last found their happiness and were never parted again.
—The End.
