Chapter 1008 – Extra, Gu Min X Liu Zhi, Spoilers Ahead, Caution
“Pah! This screenwriter must be out of their mind, portraying my Emperor like that! I just want to burst into the TV and knock some sense into him!”
A vibrant young girl, clutching a bag of chips, lay sprawled on her bed, engrossed in a drama on her phone.
During an exciting moment, she slammed her fist onto the bed, nearly dislodging her face mask.
“Nowadays, nine out of ten screenwriters are brain-dead, with the tenth one still online… I’m telling you, don’t watch these absurd dramas, yet you choose to self-torture!” A lazy voice drifted from the next room, laced with indifference. “What are you watching?”
“Time-traveling romance with you! Starring the hottest young heartthrob!” As she said this, her expression froze momentarily, as if she’d swallowed a fly. “Chen Chen, do you know what the plot is? It’s a miracle the royal family hasn’t taken these ridiculous screenwriters to task. Oh my Emperor, turning into a malicious scheming female antagonist, as if she left her brain in the womb—”
The once great emperor now reduced to a daft antihero, it was nothing short of an insult to her intellect.
The neighbor, named Chen Chen, rolled her eyes.
“Anyway, it’s all fiction; they can do whatever they want—if the royal family doesn’t care, why are you taking it so seriously, Min Min?”
“Jiang Chen—” Gu Min elongated the syllables, grumbling, “These plots can mislead children. If my Emperor were as foolish as in the drama, how could she conquer the realm? I don’t expect these screenwriters to be historical experts, but at least some professional ethics!”
Jiang Chen, dressed in bear pajamas, lounged with her legs crossed, looking unconcerned.
“Dramas are meant for entertainment. As long as they respect history, they can imagine whatever they like.” Jiang Chen fished around the bed, throwing a bag of chips accurately in Gu Min’s direction. “Though the plots can be absurd, there are principles no screenwriter dares to mess with—like maliciously defaming past emperors or changing dynasties—”
Gu Min caught the chips precisely and shut off her phone.
Just thinking about the ridiculous storyline made her fume.
“Tsk, if we rewind a hundred years, who would dare to mess with the royal family like this? They’d be asking to be killed!”
Jiang Chen chuckled lightly.
“We’re in a society of laws now, killing is illegal, even for a royal female emperor.”
Gu Min propped her chin on her hand. “That’s true—once I become a screenwriter, I’ll definitely set the industry straight and restore history!”
She was a student majoring in Film and Television Literature at Tianhua University, with aspirations to be a screenwriter.
Jiang Chen replied, “Yeah, those are lofty ambitions.”
Gu Min said, “Chen Chen, what do you think if my first film script is about Emperor Chen?”
Her idol, surely someone who could punch through mountains and kick down kindergartens.
Jiang Chen chewed on her chips, looking amused but also serious as she offered advice.
“Emperor Chen is a highly controversial figure—she’s not a good choice for adaptation, especially for a novice screenwriter.”
Both historians and the royal family could attest that Emperor Chen came from a noble background, but no one truly knew why she became a bandit. Not only did she turn to banditry, but historical texts even recorded deeds of slaughtering her own kin and father, while unofficial histories claimed she was born of Gu Zhen and some wild man, with several wild men scrutinized… Her family background was a tangled mess, and her childhood an intricate journey of twists and turns, leading to immense controversy.
For a newbie screenwriter to choose Emperor Chen as a subject right off the bat? Too ambitious!
“It’s precisely because it’s challenging that I need to clear her name—there are just too many unethical screenwriters nowadays. Ever since Emperor Chen’s tomb was opened to the public, the dramas on TV and online have become less and less sensible—” Gu Min lamented, her indignation clear. “Chen Chen, have you considered how history would change without our Emperor? It certainly wouldn’t be as good as it is now—”
Jiang Chen remained silent, her gaze deepening.
Emperor Chen’s tomb being open to the public—
Even though the royal family was still around, the sight of the tomb opened felt laughable.
The royal family’s three hundred years of dignity, completely shattered.
Jiang Chen said, “Don’t worry; those screenwriters will eventually get what’s coming to them—by the time you put things right, it’ll be too late—”
The royal family voluntarily relinquished power, shifting from a feudal monarchy to a constitutional monarchy. Though there were external pressures, more importantly, the royal family aimed for self-preservation, adapting to trends with a strategy of retreating to advance. Handing over some power didn’t mean they could be at everyone’s mercy—
Gu Min buried her face in a hefty history book, munching away. Halfway through, she asked, “Chen Chen—”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever thought—what if our Emperor is a time traveler?”
The more she studied the history of that era, the more she believed her Emperor was spectacular, stemming impulses to kneel before her.
Jiang Chen replied grumpily, “I’m not sure if she’s a time traveler; I just know if you don’t sleep soon, you might ascend to immortality. Don’t you see what time it is?”
Gu Min checked the time and gasped. It was three in the morning, and she hurriedly threw off her covers.
“Tomorrow is that scum, Liu Zhi’s class. I’m doomed, doomed!”
Who knew what Liu Zhi’s parents thought to name him that?
At twenty-nine, Liu Zhi was single and without a girlfriend, yet he’d earned the title “Old Scumbag.”
Liu Zhi was also a history professor at Tianhua University; she couldn’t help but wonder how awkward it would be if he lectured on Emperor Chen’s parents’ history.
Jiang Chen couldn’t help but chuckle, but her smile didn’t last long as her rarely-used phone rang.
She opened her phone, barefoot, and went out to the common area for water.
“Hello?”
“Crown Prince Huichang, we’re in trouble! Something strange is happening at Emperor Chen’s tomb—the main dome suddenly collapsed!”
A cold glint passed through Jiang Chen’s eyes.
How could the main dome of a royal tomb suddenly collapse?
She turned back to her dorm, not wanting to disturb Gu Min’s sleep, so she didn’t even turn on the lights, quickly grabbed her things, and left in her pajamas.
As soon as she stepped outside the school gate, she realized the night was unusually dark. Looking up, she sensed something odd about the celestial signs.
“Doesn’t it look like a rare planetary alignment?”
A clean male voice came from behind her, and Jiang Chen turned with a stoic expression to see a tall man in a suit stepping out from the shadows.
“Professor Liu Zhi—”
Liu Zhi adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze normal, seemingly unfazed by Jiang Chen in pajamas.
“The planetary alignment is a rare sight, occurring only once every thousand years.” Liu Zhi said, “It hasn’t happened in over three hundred years—”
“Are you waiting for someone, Professor?”
Jiang Chen calculated the time, eager to brush him off.
“No, I’m waiting for you.”
Jiang Chen remained composed on the surface, but inwardly her brows furrowed. “I don’t think we’re acquainted—”
“Being acquainted isn’t important. I just want to give you something.”
At another time, Jiang Chen might have thought he was coming on to her, but under the current circumstances, she sensed a lurking danger.
“Something?”
Liu Zhi retrieved an object from his pocket and handed it to Jiang Chen. “Returning what belongs to you.”
Jiang Chen was surprised. She took the item, barely recognizing it as a yin-yang fish jade pendant, still warm from Liu Zhi’s touch.
“Returning what belongs to me? This isn’t mine.”
Jiang Chen was about to return the pendant, but Liu Zhi looked up at the sky and smiled lightly. “The nine stars have aligned—”
“What?”
The rare celestial alignment didn’t last long, quickly dispersing.
At that moment, Jiang Chen’s phone rang again; it was the special ringtone she set for Gu Min.
“Chen Chen—where are you?”
Gu Min’s voice sounded frantic.
“I’m at the school gate.”
“Don’t move—Chen Chen, stay put! I’m coming to find you—also, don’t go with Liu Zhi—”
A flicker of surprise crossed Jiang Chen’s eyes.
Gu Min should be asleep in the dorm; how did she know Liu Zhi was here?
Before long, Gu Min arrived on her bike, screeching to a halt.
She was still in her pajamas, but for some inexplicable reason, Jiang Chen felt her aura had strengthened tremendously—
Smack—
In the stunned gaze of Jiang Chen, Gu Min stepped forward and slapped Liu Zhi hard across the face.
The force of the blow reddened half of Liu Zhi’s face in no time.
Jiang Chen: “!!!”
What’s going on?
Gu Min glanced at Jiang Chen, then saw her holding the jade pendant. She hurriedly took it from her and flung it towards Liu Zhi’s face.
“Liu Zhi! Go to hell!”
“Ah Min?” Liu Zhi chuckled instead of getting angry, as if the one who had just been slapped wasn’t him.
“Are you even human?” Gu Min seethed, her anger surfacing as veins bulged on her forehead, her expression particularly fierce. “What do you want to do, giving this broken pendant to Chen Chen? Trying to lure her to the tomb? What scheme do you have up your sleeve? Speak! Don’t act dumb!”
Liu Zhi sighed in resignation. “If I said I did nothing, would you believe me?”
“Go tell that to the ghosts!” Gu Min fumed. “If I believe another half-sentence of your nonsense, I’ll write my name backwards!”
Jiang Chen watched the development, her mind racing to catch up.
When did Min Min become so familiar with Professor Liu Zhi?
“Those things… I really didn’t do them…”
Gu Min chuckled. “What nonsense are you trying to spin now?”
“Can you let me explain? Just about three minutes will do.”
“Sure, kneepads are required for the explanation. Old rules, bring your own washing board.” After saying this, Gu Min took a breath and turned to Jiang Chen. After nearly thirty years of time travel, she thought she would forget her roommate’s face. Having just woken from a nightmare, she found she remembered everything clearly.
She even recalled every detail of complaining about the ridiculous drama with her roommate before her time travel.
“Chen Chen, let me deal with this scum first, then I’ll talk about killing him.”
Jiang Chen frowned. “He scummed you?”
Gu Min replied, “Worse than scum—”
Jiang Chen felt uneasy at the odd atmosphere between them but trusted Gu Min.
Don’t be fooled by Gu Min’s slender appearance—she was a powerhouse in a fight.
“If you run into any trouble, remember to call me.”
Jiang Chen said this, but her mind was already planning to check up on Liu Zhi later.
“Now you can explain while kneeling.” Gu Min was still flustered, but they both knew if they argued openly outside Tianhua University, any night owl capturing them on camera might turn them into internet sensations. They decided to shift venues and go to Liu Zhi’s apartment.
Liu Zhi commented, “We only have a washing machine at home, no washing board. I’ll use a keyboard on you instead.”
Seeing his obedient display, Gu Min’s eyes were familiar yet pained, making her heartache almost unbearable.
She forced herself to hold it together.
“Go on, Liu Zhongqing, let’s see what excuses you have!”
Liu Zhi began, “Ah Min, do you remember the year you first had an engagement?”
“Of course! I should’ve just picked any man to marry back then; anyone would be better than you, Liu Zhongqing!”
Liu Zhi smiled bitterly. “Back then, I was truly trying hard, but I wasted so many precious years not studying cautiously. Meanwhile, your engagement only delayed two years. One day, I was studying late at night, and suddenly an immortal appeared outside my window, giving me a magic elixir, saying that if I took it, my learning would be as aided by the gods… I was really desperate back then, throwing caution to the wind. If only I had three to five more years, I’d definitely be straightforward about marrying you. But—”
“Ha—” Gu Min scoffed, “And then what? You, Liu Zhongqing, took the elixir and went from a study slacker to a top student? What do you think this is? Some xianxia or wuxia drama? A historically insignificant side character dreaming of becoming the protagonist?!”
Liu Zhi shook his head, whispering, “Not quite—”
“Then what is it?” Gu Min’s patience wore thin. For Liu Zhi, he had waited eons; for Gu Min, the memories of her previous life were still fresh, filled with rage as she died by illness after forgiving Liu Zhi. Now that she’d returned, forgiving meant nothing, “Can you sum it all up in one sentence?”
Liu Zhi hesitated, “Ah Min, I’m not human—”
“I know you’re not human; you’re a ghost! I’ve known you for over twenty years, and we’ve shared a bed for nearly ten years, yet I realize I’ve never truly understood you. That’s my failure; it’s no wonder I lost my child, and it’s no wonder you’ve tricked me so thoroughly—if you were human, how did Da Lang and Er Lang end up dead?” Gu Min’s frustration boiled over, her youthful face breaking down as she gripped Liu Zhi’s suit tightly, tears streaming down, murmuring, “Liu Zhongqing, I want to believe, but this isn’t just being bewitched—”
Liu Zhi lowered his voice. “I didn’t harm Zhao’er; I didn’t harm Lan Ting; I tried my best to control that person’s will—yet Da Lang and Er Lang, that was indeed my fault. If you still hate me, you can kill me as many times as you wish.”
