The space that was originally still collapsing felt like someone had hit a pause button.
At the very center of the space, Ji Chenxi didn’t say much. He only gave a very light smile while looking at Chi Zhuo, as if he was trying to confirm something, or maybe trying to see through his very nature with just his eyes.
“People always wrap their lies up so nicely, so sweetly. How am I supposed to know yours isn’t just another lie?”
“Whether it’s a lie or not, Your Highness should at least stabilize your spiritual domain first before slowly verifying it, don’t you think?”
“But right now, it’s about to collapse.” Ji Chenxi threw out the problem.
Chi Zhuo let out a soft laugh. “Your Highness, this is your domain. As long as you want it, you can restore everything back to normal in an instant.”
Ji Chenxi also smiled at that. It was true—if he pulled himself out of that unstable state and stopped spiraling further, then this place was entirely under his control. As long as he wished, he could restore his spiritual domain to its original state.
With a shift of thought, the entire space began to change and reorganize. In the end, it formed into a towering ice plain. On top of the ice fields, countless fiery red roses wrapped in frost were planted.
A graceful snow leopard walked over to Chi Zhuo’s side and curled the tip of its tail around his leg.
In this familiar scene, Ji Chenxi no longer kept up that fake cold distance. He smiled brightly. “Welcome to my spiritual domain. Want to go skiing?”
“Compared to skiing, I’d rather…”
Chi Zhuo walked closer. Ji Chenxi waited for the rest of his words, but the man directly leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Between kisses, he murmured out the unfinished sentence.
“…kiss Your Highness.”
Men really were good at sweet talk. Still, Ji Chenxi quite liked it—just like how Chi Zhuo still hadn’t changed how he addressed him back to “Your Highness.”
Things done inside a spiritual domain were different from reality. After all, this was his space. He could do whatever he wanted. And Chi Zhuo was only a consciousness that had entered—what could he possibly use to resist him?
The moment snow brushed through their senses, Chi Zhuo let out a helpless sigh. Even as his body trembled slightly, he deepened the kiss instead.
Ji Chenxi even “helped” him by pinning a vivid rose onto him. When his fingers brushed past it and removed the thorns, the rose trembled—its petals shaking like they were about to fall from a passing breeze.
After a long while, the rose finally couldn’t hold on anymore. Petals scattered everywhere, staining the white snow with bright red color.
*
Ji Chenxi woke up at night.
Chi Zhuo was lying quietly beside him, eyes closed, exhaustion written all over his face. He still hadn’t woken up.
Looks like he played a bit too far.
His pale fingers touched the man’s cheek, stopping just near his lips.
Repairing a spiritual domain was dangerous and extremely delicate work. Aside from the special compatibility between an Alpha and Omega that could stabilize parts of it, there were basically no proper treatments—and even medical drugs for it were extremely rare. That was also why Chi Zhuo had previously gone into spiritual disorder just from a small exposure to illegal drugs.
And yet now, this man had actually sent his own spiritual consciousness straight into Ji Chenxi’s spiritual domain. He didn’t even seem afraid of dying inside it.
His nails pressed lightly, leaving a faint half-moon mark on the man’s face.
Was this… favoritism?
People always had bias in their hearts. There would always be someone they favored more.
Ji Chenxi’s growth path was complicated. He lacked love, yet he had also received quite a bit of it—but someone directly choosing to favor him like this? That was a first.
Birds of a feather flock together, and people always drew boundaries with lines like “we’re not the same kind of people.” Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo, to outsiders, were clearly from different worlds.
Two people from different circles, like parallel lines—yet somehow they kept intersecting and entangling.
Fate was a strange thing. But maybe… it wasn’t entirely fate.
From their first meeting, there had clearly been a chance for a fatal strike. So why did it end with hesitation instead? Was it really just bad timing? No opportunity?
Ji Chenxi quietly smiled into the night. He didn’t want to admit that from the very beginning, he had his own selfish intent.
So… it was still fate’s intersection after all.
After staring at Chi Zhuo for a long while, Ji Chenxi walked to the window, intending to pull the curtains shut for a better sleeping environment—only to unexpectedly find a firefly outside.
The sight made him pause slightly, and he didn’t rush to close the curtains.
Ji Chenxi had made some noise when he woke up, but after moving away from Chi Zhuo, he was as light as a cat—silent as he landed. Even so, Chi Zhuo still woke up.
Seeing a firefly floating uncertainly above Ji Chenxi’s fingertips, Chi Zhuo stepped closer and called out hoarsely, “Your Highness.”
Ji Chenxi released the firefly—still gently held in place by his spiritual power—and turned back to him. “This isn’t a natural habitat for fireflies. I barely ever see them in the palace. The last time I saw one was when my mother took me to a forest park on a nearby planet.”
Chi Zhuo followed his gaze and said, “If you want to see them, I can accompany you every year from now on.”
“Brother Chi Zhuo—” Ji Chenxi dragged out his tone. “I’m already the Emperor of the Empire now.”
“Then what does Your Majesty mean?”
“If you disobey the emperor, that’s a capital crime. So don’t forget it.”
“And what if I forget by accident?”
“Then I guess I’ll have to lock you inside my spiritual domain and punish you slowly.”
Chi Zhuo recalled certain unruly memories, and his expression stiffened slightly.
Noticing the subtle change, Ji Chenxi laughed. “I’m joking. If you forget, I’ll remind you. After all, it’s a promise between us.”
A promise is never one person’s responsibility alone.
*
In reality, traveling one or two months a year was very difficult—especially when he was the ruler of a vast empire.
Whether or not he had freedom was one thing, but the mountain of government affairs alone already consumed most of his time each day. Not to mention how exhausting those matters were. Even Su Yu no longer came to him as often for drinks like before.
He would just finish one stack of documents, and another would appear right after. Ji Chenxi finally understood why his father used to stay locked in the study all year.
In fact, the things he had to handle now were even more troublesome than when his father was still in power. It was like all the difficult issues had exploded at the same time recently.
Ji Chenxi sneered inwardly. These people clearly wanted to overwhelm him into exhaustion so he would hand over power.
But that was impossible. The more authority given to noble families, the easier it became for the royal family to be sidelined. And constantly dragging Chi Zhuo in to help wasn’t a solution either—he trusted Chi Zhuo, but others didn’t have to.
So Ji Chenxi simply decided to go all in. He developed a super intelligent system to handle simple matters and filter out complicated political disputes for him. While doing so, he kept refining and improving the system continuously.
He worked with unprecedented patience, constantly optimizing it until he finally created a reliable assistant for administrative work.
Just as he finally got a break, the Imperial Royal Academy came asking about his studies.
Right—he almost forgot he was still a student.
Ji Chenxi closed his eyes. Very few emperors ascended the throne at such a young age. The academy couldn’t exactly force him to continue attending classes, nor could they directly hand him a graduation certificate. So they came to ask for his opinion instead.
In this case, private tutoring in the palace was possible—but when he was already this busy, why would he still go through exams?
Ji Chenxi exhaled lightly and told the academy to prepare all the requirements for early graduation exams. He wasn’t going to “enjoy” school life anymore.
He arrived at the Imperial Royal Academy in secret with a serious face and passed a series of exams at terrifying speed. That year’s graduates ended up with an unexpected addition—him.
Chi Zhuo hadn’t stayed in the palace much recently. Ji Chenxi initially thought it was him keeping distance for appearances, since the palace wasn’t a place outsiders could stay long-term. But when the workload suddenly dropped to even below normal levels, Ji Chenxi immediately understood what Chi Zhuo had been doing.
He turned to his attendant Wu Xiang. “Call all the former emperor’s trusted ministers.”
Recently, Ji Chenxi had already dealt with quite a few disobedient officials. When the ministers arrived, they were unsure of his intentions.
Ji Chenxi looked at them calmly. “No need to be nervous. I called you here just to discuss something.”
The ministers quickly said they would obey any command.
Ji Chenxi spoke slowly. “I know many of you have doubts about my ascension. After all, I didn’t build much influence before this, and you all had your preferred princes.”
The ministers immediately knelt, insisting they would never dare to question him.
After giving them a slight scare, Ji Chenxi got to the point. “Internal affairs in the empire are mostly settled now. So it’s time to deal with external threats. I plan to personally eliminate the organization that collaborated with Ji Zhiqing. I’ll be leaving the empire in secret for a while, so things here will be left to all of you. I trust you are all sensible people.”
As the ministers responded, Ji Chenxi suddenly added, as if remembering something.
“Do you think… I’m missing someone by my side?”
Some didn’t understand. Others immediately caught on.
“…Your Majesty, are you referring to a Queen?”
Ji Chenxi gave an approving look. “Yes. Then tell me—who would be most suitable to become my Queen?”
The ministers immediately began discussing family background, wealth, and political influence, recommending several candidates.
“Then what about the Chi family?”
That single sentence stunned the group of middle-aged ministers.
“The Chi family… as in one of the Four Great Noble Clans?”
“Is there any other Chi family? In terms of wealth, status, and power, they fit perfectly. Do you have objections?”
Yes. Of course they did.
“He is an Alpha…”
Before the minister could finish, Ji Chenxi interrupted him.
“Whether he’s an Alpha or Omega doesn’t matter. What matters is the power behind him. Right now, I need stability. He is the best choice.”
“There has never been an Alpha Queen in history!” another minister tried desperately.
Ji Chenxi tilted his head and smiled. “Then I’ll be the one to set the precedent.”
“Even if we agree, do you think that person would agree to be married off?”
“You all seem to misunderstand something. This isn’t a discussion—it’s a notification. You just need to prepare everything so I can hold the wedding immediately when I return. And if anyone tries to play tricks while I’m gone… I don’t mind replacing you all with a new team to handle it.”
“I assume… you’re all smart people, right?”
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
