Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Zhao Dehai had only ducked into the kitchen briefly, but when he returned to the east wing, the room was empty—not a soul in sight, just dust motes dancing in the light.

It seemed the person hadn’t gone far, yet he felt an odd emptiness within. Unable to shake his worry, he stepped outside and bumped into Zhuo. "Minister Zhuo," Zhao Dehai called out, noticing Zhuo seemed headed toward the Vaulted Pavilion. "Mind if I join you?"

Zhuo nodded curtly, and the two made their way to the Vaulted Pavilion.

As soon as he entered, Zhao Dehai reported, "Your Majesty, as per your orders, the guards outside Lin Ting’s quarters have been withdrawn."

Pei Xingjian, still engrossed in a memorial, didn’t look up. "Hm?"

Zhao Dehai held a favorable impression of Lin Ting and hoped to leave a good impression of him with the emperor. "Mr. Lin was thrilled when he heard the news, gushing thanks for Your Majesty’s generosity. But when I went back in, he was already gone—likely off wandering some courtyard."

The imperial retreat had been built during the reign of the previous emperor and later expanded under the late emperor, doubling in size. It boasted scenery for every season, with winding streams and arched bridges... At this time of year, every turn revealed a new view. To truly appreciate it all would take days.

Since the emperor had granted Lin Ting the freedom to roam, he was allowed everywhere except a few highly restricted areas. Clearly, His Majesty placed great importance on this "medicine."

Pei Xingjian neither confirmed nor denied it. He set aside the finished memorial, letting Zhao Dehai stack it with the others. "If only he truly thought that way," he remarked.

Sure enough, Zhuo cut in, "Your Majesty, after leaving the wing, Lin Ting headed toward the rear courtyard—specifically, the Spring Radiance Garden. He then circled the low wall nearby."

Zhao Dehai felt a chill of dread. The Spring Radiance Garden was the retreat’s rear garden. Visiting it alone was harmless, but the low wall surrounding it connected directly to the outer streets.

If Lin Ting climbed over from there and vanished into the crowd... Zhao Dehai didn’t dare dwell on the thought.

He forced an awkward smile. "Your Majesty, this—"

But Pei Xingjian was already on his feet, striding past him. His dark green outer robe swirled with icy precision, like a blade slicing through frost.

Zhao Dehai's heart skipped a beat as he hurried to follow. He mentally kicked himself—should've kept his mouth shut...

-

After leaving the eastern wing, Lin Ting headed straight for the more secluded areas, marveling at how vast the emperor's residence was. He had lost count of the courtyards he passed along the way. Each courtyard had its own unique scenery—some elegant and serene, others vibrant and fiery—but they all shared one common feature: ridiculously high walls.

He couldn't fathom the purpose of such high walls. For someone like him, without martial skills, even walls half the height would be insurmountable, while for those with martial prowess, the walls wouldn't make a damn difference. Fortunately, there wasn't a single guard in sight along the way, likely all stationed near the emperor.

After walking for what felt like forever, he finally spotted a vast garden after passing through a moon gate. It was peak bloom season, and the air was thick with floral fragrance. Best of all—this courtyard was surrounded by low walls and tucked away in a secluded spot, making it a perfect escape.

Lin Ting circled the wall until he found the lowest section, which only reached his shoulders.

"This is the spot."

He placed his hands on the wall, pushed off with his legs, and hoisted himself up.

But just as he peeked over the edge, he froze in terror and clung to the wall.

Holy shit, why was it so high on the other side?

Beyond the wall lay a dimly lit alley, and beyond that—freedom. But—who could explain why the other side appeared to be a full half-height higher than the courtyard? Jumping down would be self-mutilation.

Seriously, did the emperor even elevate the ground in his courtyards? Talk about extravagance.

Lin Ting steadied himself against the wall, then gingerly felt around with his foot before quickly pulling it back.

Hell no—that drop was terrifying. He didn’t have the guts to jump.

"What are you doing?" A voice snapped out of nowhere, catching Lin Ting off guard. Startled, he lost his balance and went ass-over-teakettle into the courtyard.

"Ah—" With a yelp, Lin Ting face-planted right in the flowers.

He brushed the flowers off his head and tilted his head back, only to see Pei Xingjian standing calmly five steps away, with the Tianxuan Guard and Eunuch Zhao behind him.

Zhuo swiftly stepped forward and hauled Lin Ting up.

Pei Xingjian narrowed his eyes at him. Lin Ting had just eaten dirt. Rain had fallen a few days prior, and the soil was still damp, coating him from head to toe, making him look like a street urchin at dawn.

“You wanted to leave?” Pei Xingjian asked.

Lin Ting’s hands were held behind his back by Zhuo, like a criminal being grilled. Standing at a lower position, he tilted his head up slightly and realized the emperor’s expression was tense, his eyes blazing with fury, lips pressed tightly together—as if a single wrong word from him would earn him a death warrant.

Lin Ting’s lips twitched. He was genuinely afraid—after all, they said tyrants had no sense of proportion, and he certainly didn’t want to die. But if he claimed he hadn’t wanted to leave, the man likely wouldn’t believe him and might even think him a pathological liar, making his situation worse.

With tyrants, one couldn’t apply normal reasoning.

Pursing his lips, he croaked, “Yes.” The word lacked conviction, barely more than a hum in his throat. But Pei Xingjian’s sharp hearing caught it.

The moment he spoke, the tyrant smiled. Truth be told, when Pei Xingjian wasn’t terrifying, he was quite handsome—his sharply upturned phoenix eyes a clear inheritance of royal genes, his bearing alone marking him as extraordinary. Now, clad in a flowing brocade robe, his posture as straight as a pine tree, he looked every bit the noble scion, in a class of his own.

“Then go back and think harder,” Pei Xingjian said with a wave of his hand. “Take him back and clean him up.”

Lin Ting was hauled away once more.

Back in the side chamber, Lin Ting bounced back fast. Since escape was impossible, he might as well roll with it. He said to Eunuch Qing guarding the door, “Could you fetch me something to eat?”

A shadow darted by the doorway. Within moments, Eunuch Qing knocked and entered, followed by a line of palace attendants carrying dishes, which they laid out across the table.

“Mr. Lin, the meal is ready. The kitchen has no hot water at the moment, but it’s being heated and will be brought shortly.”

Lin Ting shooed them away, and the attendants silently withdrew. He wasn’t born yesterday—it was just that the constantly heated water was reserved for the emperor. If he wanted some, it had to be specially boiled, hence the delay.

But he wasn’t in a hurry. Grub first.

Meanwhile, Qingzi, having left the side chamber, hurried to the Vast Heaven Pavilion, where he found Zhao Dehai standing guard at the entrance.

“Master.”

Zhao Dehai flicked his horsetail whisk. “His Majesty is waiting for you inside. Go in quickly.”

Qingzi hastily entered. Having grown up under Eunuch Zhao’s guidance, this was his first time meeting the emperor alone, and his stomach was in knots.

Fortunately, Pei Xingjian paid no mind to his nerves. Setting down his brush as the man entered, he asked, “What is Lin Ting doing?”

Qingzi carefully weighed his words. The emperor’s tone was indifferent, as if merely making casual conversation, so he replied, “Your Majesty, Mr. Lin returned to his chamber and immediately ordered a full meal from the kitchen.”

Pei Xingjian quirked an eyebrow. “He’s certainly carefree.” With that, he dismissed Qingzi. “Keep an eye on him. If he escapes again, it’s your head.”

Qingzi dropped to his knees in fright, babbling promises.

Only after leaving did he realize his back was soaked in cold sweat. Approaching Eunuch Zhao, he said respectfully, “Master, His Majesty is—” Suddenly, a hand covered his mouth. Zhao Dehai hushed him. “The emperor’s thoughts are not for us to guess. Mind your station—that’s what matters. Understood?”

This journey to the southwest had taken them all by surprise. It wasn’t that they doubted they’d find the person with the unique fragrance—it was that no one had expected the emperor, upon finding him, to grow even more displeased, his brow furrowed more often than before, his suspicions deepening.

Not that they blamed him for his wariness. Given the Nine Princes' bloodbath for the throne, paranoia had been necessary for survival. But now, the so-called prophecy of the Daoist priest and this southwestern expedition stank to high heaven.

It was all too convenient—as if tailor-made for His Majesty.

Qingzi dared not say more. Nodding, he turned and left.

Lin Ting, having finished his meal, slumped in his chair, waiting for the hot water to arrive. Old-school baths were truly cumbersome, but at least he still had the shaggy wolf-tail cut from his scholar days—a quick rinse did the trick.

He dismissed all the attendants, including Qingzi, insisting on bathing alone. Stripping off his clothes, he sank into the water.

The day's events had been too bizarre. Lin Ting soaked in the misty warmth, the hot water soothing his tense muscles. His nerves gradually relaxed, and his eyelids grew heavy. He forced himself to wash for a while but eventually succumbed to exhaustion, resting his head against the tub's edge and closing his eyes.

*Knock, knock, knock—*

"Lord Lin! Lord Lin!" A frantic voice suddenly called from outside. Lin Ting jolted awake, realizing the sky had darkened. The room's main door rattled violently under urgent knocking.

Lin Ting raised his voice. "What is it?"

Qingzi sounded on the verge of tears. "Mr. Lin, please come out quickly! His Majesty—His Majesty's migraine has returned!"

Lin Ting immediately stood and rushed to open the door.

Qingzi stood panic-stricken at the threshold, several Tianxuan Guard members behind him, their expressions grave.

"Let me put on some clothes first." Lin Ting turned back, grabbing his outer robe and pulling it on as he walked. "Take me there."

The eastern wing lay to the east of the Azure Pavilion, but these courtyards were vast. After a few steps, the Tianxuan Guard grew impatient with Lin Ting's slow pace and simply grabbed him, carrying him over using qinggong (lightness skill).

Lin Ting: "..."

Inside the pavilion, Zhao Dehai stood guard by the table while Pei Xingjian frantically rubbed his temples, eyes tightly shut, clearly in agony.

The Tianxuan Guard deposited Lin Ting inside and withdrew, leaving only the three of them in the room.

"Your Majesty," Lin Ting called softly.

Zhao Dehai rushed to him as if a drowning man clutching at straws. "Mr. Lin, you're finally here! His Majesty's headache—please, come quickly!"

Lin Ting covered the distance in quick strides, but the moment he reached Pei Xingjian, the man seemed to sense his presence and opened his eyes.

As Lin Ting moved behind Pei Xingjian, about to press his hands to the emperor's temples, his fingers were abruptly seized.

"How dare you! Who permitted you to come?" The voice was strained with suppressed fury.

Pei Xingjian's grip was strong—his palm broad but lean, knuckles digging painfully against Lin Ting's fingers, the force making them ache. *How is he this strong?!*

And his temperature was unnaturally high. It wasn't even summer, nor were there heated floors in the room, yet Pei Xingjian's skin burned against Lin Ting's, making him instinctively want to pull away. But the moment he shifted, the grip tightened further. A cloyingly heavy fragrance emanated from Pei Xingjian's hand, as if the scent had seeped deep into his bones from prolonged exposure.

Zhao Dehai quickly interjected, "This old slave summoned Mr. Lin."

Pei Xingjian then noticed Lin Ting standing behind him—a grave offense against imperial decorum. He muttered another low rebuke: "How dare you."

But Lin Ting, unfamiliar with ancient protocols, only noted that Pei Xingjian's voice had softened. Under the candlelight, the emperor's radiant and striking appearance overshadowed his usual brooding demeanor, diminishing much of his intimidating presence—at least to someone like Lin Ting, who had never been conditioned to revere imperial authority. So he didn't move.

Pei Xingjian's temples throbbed violently, his grip tightening further.

"Ah—" Lin Ting let out a pained noise. He hadn't expected Pei Xingjian, even in such agony, to retain such strength. If this weren't the emperor, he would've slapped the man's hand away by now.

Pei Xingjian turned his head slightly, catching sight of Lin Ting's furrowed brow and his fingers reddening from the crushing grip—clearly in pain, yet forcing composure, obediently awaiting further orders.

His cropped hair, still damp, dripped water.

A drop landed on Pei Xingjian's hand, startling him back to awareness. *Just a powerless little street urchin. Whoever sent him—could I truly not handle this?*