The Dog Emperor Has Gained Telepathy - Chapter 69 Extra 4

Chapter 69 Extra 4

Extra 4: First Published on Jinjiang Literature City

Like most families, Crown Prince Xiao Qi’s parents were a combination of a strict father and a gentle mother.

He had the gentlest mother in the world, and also the strictest father in the world.

His mother told him to prioritize his health, while his father told him to prioritize his studies and the stability of the nation.

When he was three years old, his father selected a group of the most outstanding scholars to teach him reading and writing.

At five years old, his father chose the most skilled martial artists to teach him the basics of martial arts.

At six years old, his father discussed with the cabinet about abdicating the throne to him, but faced strong opposition from the ministers.

That night, he overheard his father complaining to his mother: I ascended the throne at five years old. Our Qi’er is already six. Why can’t he take the throne? I think those old fogies in the cabinet are just targeting me, trying to work me to death.
His mother gently coaxed his father to calm down: You are in the prime of your life; it makes no sense to shirk your responsibilities now. Besides, how can the circumstances of your accession back then be compared to now? Be good, don’t make a fuss, alright?
His father fell silent for a moment, then changed the subject: You just can’t bear to part with Qi’er, afraid he’ll get tired.
His mother was taken aback: What kind of talk is that? Of course I feel sorry for you too.
His father then asked: Then, between him and me, who do you feel more sorry for?
His mother: …Are you serious? Aren’t you tired of asking this after all these years?
His father: No, tell me.
His mother: …Fine, I feel more sorry for you.
After that, his parents continued talking, but the little crown prince didn’t hear anymore, as Aunt Xia He covered his ears and quietly led him away.

However, he had deeply sensed his father’s dependence on his mother ever since he became aware of his surroundings.

At first, he didn’t quite understand why his father always seemed to compete with him for his mother’s attention. Then, one Mid-Autumn Festival night, after his mother had drunk too much and fallen asleep, his father took him to admire the moon. With a sigh, his father said: Your father lost his parents in childhood and grew up alone and helpless. For many years, I kept company only with wild beasts. It wasn’t until I met your mother that I truly found someone who protects me, loves me, and has entered my heart. And you, Qi’er, you have your father, your mother, your grandmother, your Aunt Lan Chun, your cousins from the Gu family… and also Steward Yu, Granny Qiurong, Aunt Xia He… So many people love you and accompany you as you grow up. But your father only has your mother. You are much happier than your father was, aren’t you?
The little crown prince nodded, somewhat understanding: Yes.
His father continued: So, isn’t it right that your mother spends more time with me and cares more about me?
The little crown prince nodded: …Yes.
His father looked at him: Then, in the future, when I am with your mother, do you know what you should do?
The little crown prince thought for a moment, opened his round, bright black eyes, and tentatively answered: This child should withdraw and not disturb Father and Mother.
Upon hearing this, his father smiled slightly and patted his head: My son is sensible. This brings me great comfort.
Many years later, the little crown prince finally realized that, according to his mother’s professional definition, his father’s words that night were a form of emotional manipulation (PUA), commonly known as being hoodwinked.
But by the time he figured it out, it was already too late. His father had already placed the imperial seal in his hands, patted his shoulder earnestly while imparting the principles of being a ruler, and then left the capital with his mother to travel and enjoy the scenery across the land.

The young emperor ascended the throne at fourteen, took empresses and consorts at eighteen, and by twenty, he already had a son and a daughter.

When he became a great-grandfather at fifty, his parents, who had spent most of their lives traveling abroad, were also aging and could no longer roam freely. In the end, they chose a scenic detached palace to peacefully enjoy their remaining years.

People have times of reunion, but eventually, they must part.

When the final moment arrived, the first to close her eyes was the Grand Empress Dowager Lu, who passed away in her sleep—free from illness or suffering, serene and peaceful.

According to the records of the Daxing Dynasty: The Grand Emperor and the current emperor were overwhelmed with grief, weeping over her body, fainting multiple times, and losing consciousness. Three days later, the Grand Emperor passed away. Following his final wishes, the current emperor buried them together in the Chongling Mausoleum.

On the eve of the Dragon Boat Festival, the sun shone brightly, and the city bustled with traffic, lively and vibrant.

In a supermarket, Lu Zhizao stood before shelves filled with an array of goods, selecting gift boxes of zongzi, when his phone suddenly rang in his pocket.

Picking it up, he saw it was his mother calling. He answered, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he continued comparing which zongzi gift box looked more exquisite: Hey, Mom, I’ll be back soon, in twenty minutes—
Zhizao! Your sister… your sister, she… His mother’s voice on the other end was hurried and trembling with excitement, but she stumbled over her words, unable to articulate clearly.

Concerned about his sister, Lu Zhizao furrowed his brows, his heart tightening: Mom, don’t panic. What’s wrong with Wanwan?
Ever since Lu Zhiwan chose to return to the Daxing Dynasty four years ago, her body had lost its soul and reverted to a vegetative state. Over the years, Lu Zhizao had paid for her hospital care to maintain her most basic vital signs.

At first, the Lu family struggled to adapt to Lu Zhiwan’s departure again, but time was a healing balm. Knowing that her soul had gone to another era gave them a sense of solace, and gradually, they grew accustomed to having a vegetative family member at home.

After all these years, his mother had never mentioned his sister with such urgency. Her sudden anxiety startled Lu Zhizao, and he feared something had happened to his sister’s health. His heart raced until his mother finally caught her breath and exclaimed tearfully with joy, Zhizao, your sister has woken up! She’s back, she’s really back!
Really? Lu Zhizao’s eyes widened in astonishment at the unexpected news. He hastily put down the gift box and gripped the phone tightly. When did this happen?
Just now! His mother wept with happiness. Your dad and I are at the hospital. She just woke up and is still a bit disoriented. Hurry and come to the hospital!
Okay, I’m on my way!
Lu Zhizao agreed immediately, abandoning his search for the perfect gift box. He grabbed two of them, paid, and rushed excitedly to the hospital.

In the hospital room, the windows were clean, and the summer sunlight streamed in. Lush greenery flourished outside, accompanied by the incessant chirping of cicadas.

Lu Zhiwan leaned against the high pillow, watching her parents’ overjoyed expressions, feeling as though she had just awoken from a long, vivid dream.

A lifetime had passed in the Daxing Dynasty, yet only four years had gone by in the modern world.

She still vividly remembered Xiao Jingting and Xiao Qi, father and son, weeping uncontrollably by her bedside. Little did she expect that the next moment she opened her eyes, she would be back in a modern hospital room.

This stark contrast left her struggling to adjust.

After sitting by the bedside for quite a while longer, Lu Zhiwan finally regained full composure. Looking at the parents before her, she couldn’t help but tear up, her voice choked with emotion: Father, Mother, your unfilial daughter has returned.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Lu were startled by her archaic speech, exchanging bewildered glances.

Lu Zhiwan belatedly realized her wording and somewhat embarrassedly wiped the tears from the corner of her eye: Having spent most of my life in ancient times, my speech has been somewhat influenced… Father… oh no, Mom and Dad, please don’t mind.
Mr. and Mrs. Lu nodded understandingly: We don’t mind, we don’t mind.
The two hovered around their younger daughter, alternately offering her water and food, overjoyed beyond measure.

Seeing her parents’ care, Lu Zhiwan couldn’t help but think of her own children and sighed emotionally: I often heard people say that only when you raise children do you understand your parents’ love. Now I see this is true. Having my own children made me better understand my parents’ love for me… Mom, Dad, thank you for giving me life and raising me, and for tolerating my willfulness before, allowing me to return to ancient times.
Although this semi-archaic way of speaking still felt somewhat awkward to Mr. and Mrs. Lu, seeing their younger daughter’s gratitude moved them deeply.

Their child had grown up and become sensible…

Wait, what did she just say? She had children in ancient times?

Wanwan, you said… you have children? Mrs. Lu looked astonished, her eyes unconsciously scanning her daughter’s flat stomach. In her understanding, her daughter hadn’t even dated or married yet – how could she have children?

Lu Zhiwan knew her parents weren’t fully aware of the different time flow between the two realms, which explained their surprise. Finishing the half cup of warm water in her hand, she glanced at the clock on the white wall: Let’s wait until sister arrives, then I’ll tell you all about my experiences in ancient times.
About half an hour later, Lu Zhizao arrived at the hospital room in a rush, wearing a sharp little suit and eight-centimeter red-soled high heels.

Seeing her sister sitting on the hospital bed drinking milk tea, she clenched her fists and took a deep breath: You heartless brat, you finally decided to wake up! Was ancient times that wonderful? Was that dog man of yours that great, making you stay there for so long!
Lu Zhiwan knew her sister was all tough talk but soft-hearted underneath. Swallowing the bubble tea pearls, she gave her sister a cheeky grin: My days in ancient times were indeed quite comfortable.
Seeing this expression, Lu Zhizao knew this damn girl was truly back. Pretending to be aloof, she snorted: If it was so comfortable, why did you come back?
Lu Zhiwan: I lived to seventy-two in ancient times – that’s considered long-lived!
Lu Zhizao: How wonderful for you, old lady.
Lu Zhiwan: …Mom, look, sister’s bullying me again.
Seeing their daughters bickering the moment they met, Mrs. Lu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: Alright, alright, I think you two must have been rivals in a past life. Zhizao, sit down quickly. Wanwan specifically waited for you to arrive before telling us about her ancient times experiences.
Hearing this, Lu Zhizao curled her lips: At least you have some conscience, remembering to wait for me.
Lu Zhiwan: I’m just lazy and don’t want to repeat myself twice.
Lu Zhizao didn’t bother retorting, simply pulled up a chair and joined their parents in sitting in a row around the hospital bed.

Gazing at the familiar, affectionate faces before her, Lu Zhiwan relaxed her expression, cleared her throat, and began recounting her experiences during her second return to the Great Xing Dynasty to her family in meticulous detail.

The process of calmly and steadily narrating the story of her life felt uniquely profound and wondrous.

Looking back on her life in the Great Xing Dynasty, Lu Zhiwan felt that if life were an exam paper, she would give herself a score of ninety-nine. The one point deducted was for that damned, torturous Plot Gravity.

Yet she had to admit that it was precisely the various hardships brought by Plot Gravity that allowed her to recognize her own heart and understand the depth of her love for Xiao Jingting.

Joy and sorrow always accompany each other—only after tasting bitterness does one truly appreciate the value of happiness.

…In short, I don’t regret going back. Even if she could never return to reality, she was content.

After listening to their younger daughter’s life in ancient times, Lu’s father and mother felt as though they had watched a television drama.

Hearing about their daughter’s grand wedding and coronation as empress stirred their emotions.

Learning of her pregnancy and childbirth, they worried for her and rejoiced with her.

When they heard that their grandson was both adorable and sensible, the elderly couple smiled affectionately and sighed, What a pity we can’t meet him. Otherwise, we would have prepared a big red envelope for Qi’er.
Upon hearing that their grandson had ascended the throne at a young age and become a diligent and wise ruler, while their daughter was taken on travels to enjoy scenic landscapes by her somewhat unreliable husband, Lu’s parents shook their heads disapprovingly: This Xiao Jingting, really—what kind of father acts like that? Qi’er is only fourteen, which in modern times would still be middle school age. To shoulder such heavy responsibilities so early, the child must be under immense psychological pressure.
Unconsciously, the afternoon slipped by.

Since Lu Zhiwan had been in a coma for many years, she needed to remain in the hospital for observation for another week. That evening, the family of four shared a reunion dinner in the hospital room.

After dinner, Lu’s father and mother stayed to chat with Lu Zhiwan for a while longer. Seeing that it was getting late, they drove home to rest.

Lu Zhizao escorted their parents to the elevator and then returned to the hospital room.

Bright moonlight streamed quietly into the room. Her sister lay on the bed, gazing out the window, her profile soft and beautiful, yet her eyes held a serene and timeless depth that belied her age—a reflection of having lived most of her life in another era. Awakening abruptly, her state of mind could no longer revert to that of a twenty-something.

Ahem…
Lu Zhizao coughed heavily twice, pulling her sister back from her wandering thoughts.

Lu Zhiwan snapped out of her reverie and smiled gently at her sister entering the room: Have Mom and Dad left?
Lu Zhizao gave a faint hum of acknowledgment.

Lu Zhiwan waved her hand: Then you should head back early to rest too. I’m awake now—no need for anyone to keep watch overnight.
Who said I’m keeping watch for you? Don’t flatter yourself, Lu Zhizao retorted, yet her steps carried her to the bedside.

Her calm, sharp eyes scanned her sister’s still youthful and lovely face several times, as if hesitating about something.

Lu Zhiwan grew uncomfortable under her sister’s peculiar scrutiny: Sis, why are you looking at me like that?
Lu Zhizao pressed her lips together, pondered for a long moment, and finally spoke: There’s something I’m wondering whether I should tell you.
Lu Zhiwan was puzzled: What is it?
Lu Zhizao looked at her: Do you remember that you originally transmigrated into a book?
Of course I remember.
Lu Zhiwan’s gaze was clear: If it weren’t for that damned Plot Gravity being too powerful, Xiao Jingting and I wouldn’t have suffered so much.
Lu Zhizao hummed in agreement, then said with a serious expression: During the years you were unconscious, I used my connections to find the original novel you read and located the author who created that world.
Lu Zhiwan’s heart skipped a beat—this was something she had never imagined. After all, she couldn’t even remember when she had read that early internet novel, yet her sister had actually found both the original work and its author!

Sis, tell me quickly—what’s the author’s name and where are they from?
Lu Zhiwan immediately became interested, sitting up straight: Once I’m discharged from the hospital, I’m going to ask them directly—doesn’t their conscience hurt giving Zhao Wenshao such an overpowered golden finger!
Unexpectedly, Lu Zhizao’s expression suddenly turned complicated as she looked at her sister: I’m afraid you won’t be able to ask.
Lu Zhiwan was puzzled: Why not?
Lu Zhizao replied calmly: He’s dead.