Just past seven in the evening, the penthouse finally settled into complete silence.
Gu Chengyu had just stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only a black bathrobe loosely tied around his body.
His damp black hair still dripped water, droplets sliding down his neck, tracing over his Adam’s apple before disappearing into the collar.
He casually wiped his hair with a towel.
Su Qianqian was already waiting for him.
In her hand, she held a hairdryer, tilting her head as she looked at him.
Her voice was soft, tinged with a playful eagerness. “A Yu, can I help you dry your hair?”
Gu Chengyu paused mid-wipe, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
The young girl was usually pampered by him and rarely took the initiative to do things like this.
“Being so obedient today?”
“I’ve always been obedient.” Su Qianqian’s cheeks flushed slightly.
She reached out and gently pushed his shoulder. “Come on, sit still.”
“And besides...”
She shook the hairdryer in her hand, flashing a soft smile. “After I finish drying your hair, we still have some important business to attend to.”
“Important business?” Gu Chengyu’s interest was piqued. He dropped the towel and settled down on the bench at the foot of the bed.
This height was perfect for Su Qianqian to dry his hair.
“Yes, important business.”
Su Qianqian nodded as she adjusted the hairdryer to its lowest setting.
Gu Chengyu relaxed under her care, his eyes narrowing comfortably.
Focused on drying, Su Qianqian spoke, “It’s about the romance scenes between Lin Wan and Qi Heng in ‘Flames of War.’”
“We’re shooting in a couple of days. I want to rehearse with you, get into the right mood.”
“Didn't you say last time that I have to like you first, then pretend to like someone else?”
“Just tonight, okay? I won’t have time in the next few days.”
She paused, then added, “Fang Qing printed out the character profile for Qi Heng. It’s right next to you.”
Gu Chengyu glanced at the middle of the bench, where a neatly bound booklet lay.
“Alright.” He agreed simply.
Stretching out his long arm, he easily took the booklet and flipped it open.
From Lin Wan’s perspective, their romantic scenes with Qi Heng totaled just three.
The first was during their youth, when he devoted himself to teaching her, and she admired and adored him.
The second was at eighteen, when she vowed never to betray him.
The third was the final scene — facing each other through the flames, dying together.
So, at this moment, Qianqian didn’t yet know how deeply Qi Heng loved her.
The hairdryer hummed softly.
Gu Chengyu’s mind was already immersed in the world of the last monarch.
In the first scene, as he taught the young Lin Wan, he sensed her sincerity and affection.
He also felt her kindness and purity.
He thought then: such a pure soul shouldn’t be a cold blade or a sacrifice under the weight of royal power.
So, while teaching her, he also trained many others.
But none were as outstanding, kind, or loyal as she was.
Impure souls couldn’t pass the scrutiny of the new faction’s self-proclaimed righteous core members; they were seen through at first glance.
He couldn’t trust those who were disloyal.
In the end, he chose her.
The second scene showed her kneeling on the cold stone floor, lifting her small face with unwavering eyes as she declared her vow of eternal loyalty.
His expression remained stern.
Only he knew how fast his heart was pounding.
He told her: You must succeed.
But in his heart, he was saying: You must come back alive.
Every encounter after that was through letters.
One piece of good news after another arrived.
He should have been happy, but behind each victory, he could see her bleeding heart.
Because he understood her—and also understood those righteous reformists.
So he knew she had given her true heart to earn their trust.
He felt deeply sorry.
But things had come to this point; no matter which side she was on, she couldn’t turn back.
The final act was the last battle.
When he learned she had betrayed them, he was actually relieved.
This rotten monarchy and palace—he had long since wanted to leave them behind.
But behind him were many who still believed in the monarchy and were fighting for it with their lives.
So he couldn’t reveal a single true thought.
After all, he was Qi Heng, the last sovereign of the Qi family.
Bearing this name meant carrying its honor and responsibility.
As expected, he lost—and he lost happily.
He set fire to the palace that symbolized glory, and to the last bloodline of the Qi family.
As the flames rose, he stood atop the high platform—and there, he saw her.
She was already twenty-one.
Three whole years had passed since they last met.
He watched her step by step walk into the sea of fire.
He wanted to shout, to tell her to turn back, to return to the reformists.
But before the words escaped, he already knew her nature—once the truth was revealed, she would never survive by hiding with the reformists.
So she came back.
He watched her finally collapse at the foot of the steps.
She was dead.
He himself was overcome by thick smoke, unable to breathe, slowly collapsing atop the high platform.
In his fading consciousness, he reached out slowly toward her.
He wanted to tell her: I’m sorry for ruining you.
He also wanted to say: Thank you for coming back, for letting me see you one last time.
And finally, he wanted to say: I don’t blame you. I love you.
Qi Heng loved her.
The last sovereign raised his hand—and then slowly let it fall.
He, the woman he loved, and the monarchy—all vanished into the flames.
The sound of the hairdryer stopped.
Gu Chengyu had just finished turning the last page.
If he imagined Lin Wan as Su Qianqian, he felt as if he was about to suffocate.
“All done!” Su Qianqian turned off the hairdryer, happily smoothing his now fluffy, dry black hair, a little proud.
“Ah Yu, let’s change clothes and rehearse, okay? Just those three emotional scenes.”
Gu Chengyu exhaled deeply, the complex emotions in his eyes fading away.
He stood up and pinched her moist, delicate cheek. “Alright, let’s go change first.”
“After the rehearsal, I have something to tell you.”
