Chapter 2: Favor Come Here, I Will Teach You How to Win Favor

Chapter 2: Vying for Favor

"Come here, I'll teach you how to win favor."

Great Liang Palace, side hall of the Taiji Hall.

Yan Zhi sat at a small desk, cupping his face in his hands, gazing absently at the crushed cream puff.

The Qing State's surrender meant the army had returned victorious, and His Majesty was holding court with his ministers in the Main Hall.

Meanwhile, Yan Zhi had asked to be excused for soiling his clothes with the puff and returned to his room to change.

Now that he had changed, he had no desire to return to the Main Hall.

After all, His Majesty's palace had sixty-four eunuchs and sixty-four maids. Even if they served in rotation, it would be a long, long time before his turn came.

The palace attendants would naturally serve His Majesty tea and refreshments without fail.

Tilting his head, Yan Zhi dipped his right index finger into the cream and put it in his mouth.

Mmm...

His delicate features involuntarily scrunched up.

The once sweet and soft cream had suddenly turned unbearably bitter.

Perhaps it was because of the heat, or perhaps the puff had spoiled in his embrace.

Or maybe...

Because His Majesty was about to hold the Imperial Selection.

The mere thought of it made Yan Zhi's heart ache with bitterness.

He melted dejectedly, draped over the desk like a little goldfish stranded on shore.

His Majesty was about to hold the Imperial Selection.

Soon, the palace would have an empress, imperial consorts, and various noble sons.

Then what was he?

His Majesty didn’t seem inclined to give him any official position and had even explicitly warned him not to try scheming his way into the harem.

He didn’t want to help His Majesty with the selection, nor did he want to meet those aristocratic, comely, and accomplished scions of great houses—who outshone him in every way.

He didn’t want to.

Right now, he just wanted to hide under the covers, bury his head, and weep until he had no tears left.

And cry he would!

Yan Zhi stood up, about to fling himself upon the bed, when a knock came at the door.

"Yan Zhi, His Majesty summons you to the Main Hall."

"Oh... alright." Yan Zhi quickly wiped his tears and schooled his expression. "I’ll come at once now."

Before leaving, he picked up the spoiled pastry and stuffed it into his mouth, swallowing it whole.

Though the puff was bitter, it had spoiled because of his carelessness.

And since His Majesty had given it to him, he didn’t want to waste it.

Cheeks bulging, Yan Zhi chewed and swallowed the puff.

Ah...

Still so bitter!

The palace servant who had come to fetch him waited outside, ready to escort him.

Not wishing to keep His Majesty waiting, Yan Zhi wiped his hands and mouth with a handkerchief and emerged.

"Let’s go."

The palace servant led Yan Zhi as they hurried through the corridors toward the Main Hall.

When they arrived, the doors of the Main Hall were wide open.

A dozen or so court officials knelt in two rows by order of precedence.

On the raised dais, Xiao Cuan reclined indolently against an armrest pillow, one leg propped up.

The imperial desk before him was piled with memorials, and he held one in his hand.

The memorial was long, its folded scroll spilling across his lap.

Skimming distractedly through it, Xiao Cuan remarked, "Liu Xun, unless I'm mistaken, you have a son?"

The minister named Liu Xun quickly rose to reply, "Your Majesty, my son is already married."

"And your grandson?"

"He has just turned three."

"I see." Xiao Cuan paused, then addressed another minister at random. "Bian Ying?"

"My son is slow of wit and ill-mannered. If he could catch Your Majesty's eye, he would be honored."

"Bring him to the victory feast tonight."

"As Your Majesty commands."

Yan Zhi waited obediently outside, listening as His Majesty called out several more ministers, inquiring about their children.

The ministers answered one by one, their expressions and words tinged with barely concealed reluctance.

It was understandable.

Whether they were carefully cultivated young talents or wayward scions, they were all cherished offspring of their families.

As parents, none would willingly send them into the palace.

How nice.

Yan Zhi thought of how, when he had been sold into the palace, his father and stepmother had snatched the silver and fled without so much as a farewell.

Before long, Xiao Cuan had interrogated each official present, ascertaining details ranging from their family members to the landscaping of their estates and the livestock they kept. Laying aside the scroll, Xiao Cuan dismissed them with a gesture. "You may withdraw. At tonight’s victory feast, see that you present all marriageable offspring."

"Yes." The ministers bowed in unison. "We take our leave."

Xiao Cuan glanced up, catching sight of Yan Zhi standing outside the door from the corner of his eye. He beckoned again, "Doggy, come here."

"Yes..."

Yan Zhi bit his lip, lowering his head, not daring to meet the gazes of the ministers.

He feared they would think him...

Baseborn, lacking in manners, impudent.

The Emperor called him "Doggy," and he actually answered.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to be a "Doggy" either, but if His Majesty insisted on calling him that, there was nothing he could do.

Xiao Cuan sat on the high platform, crossing his legs the other way.

He looked down, his gaze amused as he watched Yan Zhi with his lowered head, flushed cheeks, and meek posture—it was simply entertaining.

Such an obedient and compliant Doggy—in this world, or any other, there wouldn’t be a second one like him.

Pondering this, he wiggled his fingers at Yan Zhi again.

"C'mere pup—"

Before the sound even faded, Yan Zhi lifted his head in disbelief.

Then, he tripped over the threshold he hadn’t fully crossed.

"Ah—"

With a *thud*, Yan Zhi landed flat on his face. Instinctively, he turned his head to look at the ministers.

No, he hadn’t meant to fall! He wasn’t someone who disregarded decorum!

But the ministers didn’t dare look at him, merely bowing their heads and hastening their exit.

"Fool."

Seeing him fall, Xiao Cuan’s expression darkened instantly. He cursed, strode forward, grabbed Yan Zhi by the collar, and yanked him upright from the ground.

"What’s going through your head all day? Walking just fine and then suddenly taking a spill?"

Yan Zhi clutched his head, trying to explain, "It was because Your Majesty—"

"You dare blame *me*?" Xiao Cuan was incredulous. "I was sitting several *zhang* (approximately 3.3 meters per zhang) away from you, and you’re blaming *me*?"

"No, it’s because Your Majesty called this servant 'Doggy' and made that 'c'mere pup' sound at me. This servant was distracted, so I—"

"What’s there to be distracted about?" Xiao Cuan retorted. "Peasants call their dogs like that all the time. Why can’t I?"

"But—"

But they were calling *real* dogs. He wasn’t one.

Just then, the ministers exited the Throne Room, and the guards outside closed the doors behind them.

A soft *click* interrupted Yan Zhi’s words.

Now, only the two of them remained in the hall.

Xiao Cuan held Yan Zhi by the collar with one hand, lifting him onto the high jade dais before dropping him beside the desk.

"Prepare the ink. I’ll handle a couple of petitions."

"Yes..."

"Here boy—"

His Majesty was taunting him deliberately.

Yan Zhi opened his mouth, afraid of angering the Emperor, but in the end, he didn’t argue.

He knelt properly, picked up the vermilion inkstick, added a few drops of water into the inkstone, and began grinding the ink with practiced motions.

He intended to yield, but His Majesty refused to let him off. "Weren’t you just defiant? Why the sudden silence?"

"This servant wasn’t." Yan Zhi didn’t know what to say, only managing a small sound to show he could still speak.

"That’s no way for a pup to sound." Xiao Cuan dipped his brush in ink. "Do it properly."

Finally, Yan Zhi couldn’t hold back and whispered in protest, "This servant is not a Doggy."

"If you’re not a Doggy, then what are you?"

Xiao Cuan countered, "Let me ask you—"

"Who feeds you every day?"

"Who gives you the clothes on your back and the things you use?"

"Who do you tag after dawn till dusk?"

Before Yan Zhi could answer, Xiao Cuan answered for him.

"Your food and drink—I provide."

"Your clothes and belongings—also from me."

"During the day, you trot after me like an eager little dog. At night, you worm your way into my bed to serve."

"Isn’t that exactly like a real Doggy?"

"Oh, I don’t sleep with real dogs—but I do allow you in my bed. And when we sleep, you’re not behind me. You’re beneath me."

Yan Zhi’s cheeks burned, his eyes round as coins and bewildered as he stared at Xiao Cuan.

What His Majesty said... sounded irrefutable.

He had no counter at all.

But some stubborn part of him, a small voice, kept repeating—

*I’m not a Doggy, I’m not a Doggy, I’m not a Doggy...*

Xiao Cuan, while scrawling his edicts with flourishing brushwork, reached out and tweaked Yan Zhi’s cheek, giving it a rough shake.

"Woolgathering again? The ink’s gone dry."

Yan Zhi snapped out of his daze and quickly picked up the inkstick, resuming grinding the ink.

Xiao Cuan asked, "Did you hear everything while standing outside earlier?"

Yan Zhi was puzzled. "Your Majesty means..."

"At tonight's victory banquet, those court officials will bring their children. Don’t just focus on eating—observe those noble heirs and learn from them."

"Yes," Yan Zhi replied gloomily.

Xiao Cuan pressed further, "You took so long changing clothes earlier—were you hiding in your room crying?"

"This slave did not."

He hadn’t even had the chance to cry yet.

"Your eyes are red as a rabbit’s, and you still deny it. A pup’s got a stubborn mouth," Xiao Cuan added dryly.

Xiao Cuan snorted lightly, retracting the hand that had been pinching Yan Zhi’s cheek and pulling him closer.

"Instead of wasting time crying in your room or arguing with me about whether you’re a puppy, you’d better get your act together and think hard about how to handle the selection properly—to my satisfaction."

"This slave will do his best to manage it," Yan Zhi mumbled, lowering his eyes.

"After you’ve figured out the selection, think about how you’ll fight for my favor."

"Fight for favor...?" Yan Zhi looked up, confused.

Seeing his reaction, Xiao Cuan seized the opportunity to tease him further.

"Yes, fight for favor."

"Your life now is too comfortable. With only you by my side, I summon you every day."

"But once new faces enter the palace—thousands, tens of thousands, a teeming crowd—even if I saw one person a day, it would take years before your turn comes."

"Then you’ll hide in your room day and night, hugging your pillow, whining like a pup till you flood the palace. And that’s the better scenario."

"In the worse case, if the empress or consorts I’ve appointed catch you—seeing how clueless you are, incapable of this and that—they’ll take against you. They’ll punish you: no food, no water, kneeling in the palace halls. What will you do then?"

Xiao Cuan spun the tale vividly, as if it were real.

Yan Zhi paled at the description. "This slave would beg Your Majesty’s mercy..."

"Beg me? By then, I won’t even remember who you are, much less lift a finger for you. With your frail body, you’d starve inside a week. What then?"

"Then this slave would run away."

"Run? The palace is heavily guarded, patrolled everywhere. Where could you go?"

"Then this slave would just die," Yan Zhi said helplessly. "The tales say, 'If the ruler demands a subject’s death, the subject has no choice but to—'"

"Are you a 'subject'? You’re a puppy."

Not getting the response he wanted, Xiao Cuan suddenly snapped.

"If I won’t remember you then, why don’t you use every trick in your book now—before the newcomers arrive—to fight for my favor and make me remember you? Such a simple concept, and you still don’t get it?"

"Huh?"

Yan Zhi still looked completely lost.

He didn’t know how to fight for favor. He didn’t know how.

"One day, you’ll die of stupidity. One day, I’ll die from your idiocy."

Xiao Cuan tightened his grip on Yan Zhi’s cheek, dragging him close.

"Come here! I’ll teach you!"

Yan Zhi was pulled over and seated on Xiao Cuan’s lap.

Before him was the emperor’s solid chest; behind him, the imperial desk piled high with petitions.

Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, he had nowhere to flee.

Yan Zhi blinked, as if finally understanding something, and deftly reached to undo the hidden clasps on the emperor’s armor.

So that’s what His Majesty wanted.

Seeing him finally catch on, Xiao Cuan’s expression softened.

Pen in hand, he continued reviewing petitions. "You have fifteen minutes—before I finish these urgent reports—to pull out all the stops to please me."

"Yes," Yan Zhi pressed his lips together. "Your Majesty could’ve just said so."

"Right now, it’s you trying to seduce me, not me begging you," Xiao Cuan corrected. "I’m teaching you. Whether you do it or not doesn’t matter to me."

"Oh..."

A soft clink rang out as Yan Zhi set aside the armor’s belt. Just as he was about to reach out, Xiao Cuan grabbed his jaw.

While still reviewing petitions, Xiao Cuan used his thumb to part Yan Zhi’s lips, sliding inside to press down on his tongue, as if mockingly asking, "Did you eat cream puffs earlier?"

"Mmm..." Yan Zhi’s mouth was forced open, his reply slurred. "Your Majesty gave me some."

"Then have another." Xiao Cuan pushed his head down with a hand on the back of his neck. "Use your mouth."

"Same way you eat those cream puffs."