Chapter 93 Close Attendant

Chapter 93: The Close Attendant

Xiao Shao had the man brought back to his residence and settled in a side courtyard before heading to his study.

Dismissing the servants, he spread out a sheet of paper, lifted his wrist, and painstakingly reconstructed the torn letter word by word.

In the thirty-sixth year of Yongtai, the governor of Jiangzhou submitted a memorial accusing Qi Chen, the Salt Censor of Hedong, of colluding with local magnates to embezzle two million taels of silver from the treasury.

The revelation rocked the court. The Ministry of Revenue immediately conducted an overnight audit and opened the Hedong treasury for inspection, only to find the heaps of silver had vanished—the vault stood completely empty.

This treasury was designated for salt and iron taxes. Qi Chen, as the Salt Censor, had taken the vault key just two days prior under the pretext of reviewing the accounts.

Shortly after, the Eastern Depot raided the censor’s residence and hauled Qi Chen off to prison. Despite relentless torture and questioning, Qi Chen insisted he had only inspected the vault once with the governor and never opened it again. His subordinates corroborated his testimony. Yet, with only one entrance to the vault, how could such a massive sum disappear in just two days without passing through the main gate?

After three days of unyielding interrogation, leaving no inch of skin unbroken, Qi Chen still refused to reveal the silver’s whereabouts. He then took his own life in prison, leaving no witness.

The emperor, enraged, initially ordered the execution of Qi Chen’s entire lineage and their corpses left to rot in the open. Only the pleas from the crown prince and empress spared the lives of his wife, daughters, and young children.

But with Qi Chen dead, the three million taels of silver vanished without a trace.

Such an enormous sum could fill multiple granaries. Qi Chen had lived frugally, owning only a single property during his lifetime. The Eastern Depot turned every stone in Jiangzhou, digging three chi deep, yet found no sign of the silver.

The case was shelved, becoming a cold case.

Xiao Shao had heard of this incident in his past life, but back then, he was merely an idle prince, indifferent to court affairs, spending his days on horse racing and cricket fights with Yuan Yu and Xie Guanghong. Only now, upon piecing together the truth, did he grasp what had happened.

He casually tucked the letter beneath an incense burner just as Fu Dehai entered, bowing hesitantly. "Your Highness, the one you retrieved has fallen ill—quite severely. Should we call for a doctor?"

Normally, such trivial matters wouldn’t warrant disturbing Xiao Shao, but since the prince had personally gone to the Directorate of Ceremonial to bring the man, Fu Dehai was uncertain.

Xiao Shao asked, "How bad is it?"

"His wounds are inflamed, and he’s come down with a fever."

Just as Xiao Shao was about to respond, a maid hurried in and curtsied. "Your Highness, Lord Yuan Yu sent word inviting you to the Xiangyun Pavilion this evening to listen to the pipa."

At this, Fu Dehai immediately fetched a cloak to drape over Xiao Shao.

During the years following Qi Yan’s downfall, Xiao Shao had been at his most dissolute, frequenting pleasure houses to take in music, seeking out every master pipa player in the capital. In the past, he would have accepted Yuan Yu’s invitation without hesitation.

But now, Xiao Shao pushed Fu Dehai away, suddenly finding the idea uninteresting.

Having already been emperor, he had grown weary of even the finest pipa performances in the capital. Instead, the thought of watching Qi Yan suffer seemed far more entertaining.

Back then, that haughty eunuch—a mere servant unfit for the grand stage—had carried himself with the poise of a crane. When Xiao Shao returned to the capital, Qi Yan had stood atop the Ninefold Hall, reading imperial decrees while looking down upon the ministers. He had spoken nonsense with an air of feigned sorrow, his eyes half-lidded in mock melancholy, that cursed tear mole clinging to the corner of his eye, as if begging to be gouged out.

Xiao Shao despised being looked down upon.

Now, he wanted to see what such a man looked like in illness.

Would he burn with fever, delirious and tearful, begging his master for mercy and a physician?

Suddenly intrigued, Xiao Shao said, "Tell Yuan Yu to wait. The pipa performance won’t start so early. Let’s go take a look at the side hall first."

The side hall stood in the farthest corner of the estate. Though remote, it was well-maintained with annual renovations and far from desolate.

Since Qi Yan had been personally brought in by Xiao Shao, Fu Dehai hadn’t dared to treat him too harshly. The hall was fully furnished, with a brazier burning, making it far more comfortable than the Directorate of Ceremonial.

As Xiao Shao stepped inside, he found Qi Yan curled up on the bed, buried under two thick quilts. Wrapped tightly, his eyes were shut as if in deep slumber. He truly did seem far from conscious.

Fu Dehai wanted to help him up to perform the kowtow, but Xiao Shao raised his hand to stop him, asking, "Even if you prop him up, he’s still unconscious. I have no interest in watching a comatose man bow. How long has he been like this?"

Fu Dehai replied, "Ever since he was carried down from the sedan chair, he’s been like this—burning with fever, drifting in and out of delirium."

Xiao Shao half-sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out the section of quilt pressing against Qi Yan’s face and replacing it with his own cool hand, tracing it upward along his cheek.

He pinched the gaunt cheek, raising an eyebrow. "Qi Yan, wake up?"

No response.

Xiao Shao leaned closer. "Should I call a physician? Do you want medicine?"

Still no response.

He narrowed his eyes. "Your document—get up and rewrite it, and I’ll deliver it to His Majesty for you?"

Of course, it was a lie. The emperor was already furious—handing over a petition now would only add fuel to the fire.

Qi Yan remained unresponsive.

Out cold.

Xiao Shao withdrew his hand.

A feverish body radiated heat, and his cool touch had inadvertently provided relief from the heat. When Xiao Shao tried to pull away, Qi Yan frowned slightly in his sleep, clinging to it, reluctant to release it.

"..."

Now he’s clinging to Xiao Shao’s hand.

The lingering heat of his skin remained on Xiao Shao’s fingertips. He shook his hand, unnerved.

Watching Qi Yan struggle was amusing, but seeing him half-dead ruins the fun. Xiao Shao felt indifferent. "Go, fetch him a physician. Don’t let the fever cook his brains. At the very least, he needs to stay lively for the next few years."

Fu Dehai stepped forward. "What about the medicine?"

Xiao Shao was fastening his cloak, not even looking up. "Use it. Give him the best. With a mansion this large, how could we possibly lack medicine for him?"

Xiao Shao was reckless, but not foolish. In his past life, he hadn’t aimed for the throne and thus stayed uninvolved. But in this life, destined to grasp for the highest power, he couldn’t let Qi Yan perish in his hands.

Qi Yan’s father had indeed been convicted of a crime, but Qi Chen had also been a celebrated Confucian scholar of his time. Qi Yan himself had achieved top honors in the imperial examinations, earning a prestigious rank. Both men held some reputation among the reformist faction.

The treasury embezzlement scandal had caused an uproar, and even now, many officials believed the evidence was insufficient—that Qi Chen had been innocent.

Back then, the crown prince had chosen Qi Yan, a eunuch of dubious origins, precisely to gain favor among the reformist faction. Now that Xiao Shao had intercepted him, at the very least, he had to keep up pretenses and ensure Qi Yan was treated decently.

Leaving all matters of the side hall to Fu Dehai, Xiao Shao rode out to his engagement. He’d never learned restraint—his steed, Xiaofeilian, neighed as its hooves pounded down the street. Xiao Shao reined in sharply outside the Xiangyun Pavilion and ascended to the reserved balcony.

Yuan Yu and Xie Guanghong were already waiting in the private booth, the dishes long since served. Xiao Shao sat across from them and toyed with his food.

The melancholy pipa melody drifted up from below. Yuan Yu sighed. "Ah, in a few days, we’ll have to go back to the imperial tutors. I really don’t want to go."

Xie Guanghong said, "Who does? I’m too old for this."

Xiao Shao was still a prince without a fiefdom, and thus required to study. Though he was of age, the empress, considering him unruly and reluctant to part with her youngest son, insisted on keeping him for two more years to reign in his wildness before allowing him to leave for his fiefdom.

Yuan Yu and Xie Guanghong, both descendants of meritorious officials, had grown up fooling around with Xiao Shao and were likewise forced by their fathers to attend the imperial tutors.

Xiao Shao chuckled. "Let’s go. We’re only going to mess around."

They were a bunch of rich wastrels—what could they possibly learn from books? Not giving their tutors an aneurysm was already a miracle. While the teacher lectured from the podium, they passed notes and played with crickets beneath their desks. The notes flew back and forth, and their textbooks were half-torn to pieces.

Yuan Yu nudged his arm and asked, "Xiao Shao, I heard you took in Qi Yan? Bring him along next time. The old tutor keeps sighing about him. Seeing him as your personal attendant might just give the old man a stroke!"

Qi Yan was renowned for his literary talent and was the youngest Tanhua in the dynasty. Whenever Xiao Shao and his friends drove their tutor red-faced with rage, the old scholar would stroke his beard, pace around, and mutter, "Such disgrace to scholarship, such disgrace!" Then he would drag out one or two prodigies to contrast with them, as if to highlight how utterly hopeless they were.

As luck would have it, Qi Yan was one of those "whiz kids" pulled out for comparison.

Such "poster boys" were always resented. Just hearing his name made Xie Guanghong grit his teeth.

Xiao Shao glanced at Xie Guanghong and said cryptically, "Careful with that neck of yours."

Xie Guanghong blinked. "My neck? What's wrong with my neck?"

Xiao Shao brushed it off casually. "Nothing. Just reminding you to sleep carefully—don’t get a stiff neck and crack it."

What he didn’t say was that in his past life, Xie Guanghong’s neck had indeed been broken by Qi Yan.

Back then, Xiao Shao had already been enfeoffed as a prince and sent to guard the frontier at Daning, thousands of miles from the capital. By the time the news reached him, Xie Guanghong’s seventh-day mourning rites had already passed. The emperor had ordered an investigation, but Xie Guanghong’s corpse had rotted away in the Eastern Depot’s dungeons, eventually wrapped in a straw mat and tossed onto a barren mountain to be devoured by dogs.

And at that time, Qi Yan had been the Eastern Depot’s director.

The order had come from the emperor—Qi Yan wasn’t the mastermind. Xiao Shao couldn’t pin it all on him, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

He remembered how, stranded thousands of miles away, he had sent someone to retrieve the remains. By the time they found Xie Guanghong, wild dogs and vultures had picked his bones clean, leaving only half a skull behind. It was said his blackened eye sockets had stared emptily at the sky, maggots wriggling in the decaying red flesh—a sight straight out of a nightmare. The hasty burial that followed had only Xiao Shao’s bracelet as a lone grave good.

Later, as the past faded into dust, Xiao Shao, now emperor, tried to investigate—only to find all records burned, leaving no trace of the truth.

Of course, there was no need to tell Xie Guanghong any of this now. What exactly had happened back then? Why had the Xie family suddenly fallen from grace? What role had Qi Yan played? Xiao Shao would uncover it all, one by one.

They shot the breeze until, full of food and booze, Xiao Shao rose to return to his residence.

Leading Xiaofeilian (Night-Soaring Steed) into the estate, he ran into the physician just finishing his examination. The old man carried his medicine box, tugging at his beard between sighs.

Xiao Shao asked, "You were here to see Qi Yan?"

The physician bowed. "Indeed, Your Highness."

Handing the riding crop to a servant, Xiao Shao pressed, "Well? What’s wrong with him?"

The physician replied, "His qi and blood are drained, hounded by outside ailments and inner turmoil. His illness is severe. The punishment he endured damaged his organs—it’s no quick fix. But these aren’t the main issues. With careful recuperation, he could recover seventy or eighty percent. However..."

Xiao Shao frowned. "However?"

"However, the patient himself... has no will to live."

Xiao Shao’s brow twitched.

Just days ago, Qi Yan had written a letter pleading for an audience with the emperor to clear his name. How, in just two days, had he lost even the will to live?

The physician sighed softly and added, "Your Highness, pardon my frankness—do you want him to live?"

Xiao Shao found the question odd. "Of course I do... Why ask?"

The physician explained, "When I examined him, he woke and asked, ‘Did His Highness take me in to be his personal attendant?’"

Xiao Shao’s frown deepened. "Spit it out. What did he mean?"

"The way he looked, it was like... he wished to serve you. That thought alone seemed to put a spark back in him."

Xiao Shao's brows arched even higher.

...Qi Yan wanted to be his personal attendant?

What the hell?

Xiao Shao already had Fu Dehai. New palace recruits usually needed time to adjust, starting with menial work.

...But menial work?

Xiao Shao rubbed his chin. Put Qi Yan on menial work, and he’d drop dead.

The man could fall critically ill just by sleeping peacefully in a side chamber—hauling water or chopping firewood would surely kill him. He’d keel over right in front of Xiao Shao.

Bringing a former Tanhua into his residence only to have him perish within days would have the censors roast him alive.

As he entered the estate, Xiao Shao declared, "Alright, fine. Let him. If he wants to be my personal attendant, so be it. Inform Fu Dehai to have Qi Yan come to the study tomorrow to handle my ink and brushes."