Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Aaaah—"

A scream tore through the cold, gloomy silence of the prison. Several dozing jailers jolted awake, tumbling off their stools. As they scrambled to their feet, the prison gates swung open, flooding the area with daylight.

After the blinding flash, three figures stood at the entrance—or rather, two flanking the one in the middle, dragging him along.

The one in the middle kept complaining: "Why is life so unfair? Others get titles and high offices while they're young, but here I am, only nineteen, already being thrown into prison!"

"I'm just a university student! I haven't even finished experiencing campus life!"

"Heavens, is this fair?"

The man in the middle rambled on, leaving the jailers utterly baffled.

One of the older jailers squinted through his clouded eyes at the figures by the door. The two flanking the prisoner wore embroidered robes adorned with qilin motifs, carried swords at their waists, and wore jade pendants strung with pearls and gold filigree.

The Tianxuan Guard!!!

In the blink of an eye, the Tianxuan Guard had brought the prisoner before them.

"Sir, may I ask what crime this man has committed? Which cell should we put him in?" the old jailer asked hastily, bowing with a raspy voice.

Only then did he notice that the prisoner was an exceptionally young man, dressed in fine clothes, his eyebrows arched defiantly, his expression full of defiance. The old jailer immediately understood—this was likely some noble's son who had offended the emperor and been thrown into prison.

The Tianxuan Guard ignored them, walking past to unlock a cell.

"How dare you open a cell without permission!" a younger jailer protested angrily, only to be yanked back by the old jailer. "Quiet! That's the Tianxuan Guard!"

At the mention of the name, the young jailer paled and immediately shrank behind the old man, falling silent.

Meanwhile, Lin Ting felt dizzy. Before he could react, he was flung onto a pile of straw.

"Ow!" He scrambled up just in time to see the Tianxuan Guard slam the cell door shut. He rushed forward, gripping the bars and shouting, "Sirs, since we're acquainted now! Can't you at least move me somewhere nicer? It's freezing in here, no heating at all! At least bring that fire over—I can't take the cold!"

The jailers on the other side thought to themselves: *This young master clearly had no idea how good he had it—this was already the best cell in the prison, with fresh straw. The stuff they slept on wasn't even new!*

But the Tianxuan Guard didn’t spare Lin Ting a single glance. After locking him in, they turned and left, only pausing to order the jailers, "Keep a close eye on him."

"Yes, yes!" The jailers nodded repeatedly.

Once the guards were gone, the old jailer shuffled over to Lin Ting’s cell. The boy was still full of energy now, but that wouldn’t last long. The prisoner in the neighboring cell had come in wailing about injustice too, but within days, he’d fallen silent. Anyone locked up in these cells had angered the emperor—getting out alive was near impossible.

The old jailer shook his head and went back to his warming wine.

Having yelled until tired to no avail, Lin Ting finally gave up and sat down cross-legged.

The straw beneath him was at least fresh, and a small skylight above let in a thin beam of sunlight, illuminating a tiny patch of the floor. Right now, he sat directly in that only patch of light.

The jailers sighed in relief at the sudden quiet—only for it to be shattered moments later by a mournful voice:

"Poor little cabbage, withering in the field~"

"A lonely little sprout, with none to share~"

They turned to see the young man bathed in sunlight, his pale skin glowing, long lashes casting delicate shadows, his glass-like eyes shimmering like stars.

The jailers gasped—he was stunningly handsome.

After singing his self-composed lament for a while, Lin Ting finally grew tired.

Oh well. Life was unpredictable. If he lived, he lived; if he died, that's that. Maybe when the executioner's blade falls, he’d just wake up back home.

He was about to lean against the wall to rest when a voice suddenly came from the other side: "Young friend, what brings you here?"

"Who?" Lin Ting bolted upright. "Since when can walls talk?"

"Fear not, young friend. I am not the wall. I’m in the cell next to yours," came the aged voice again.

Lin Ting frowned. "Next to me? Was there someone there before?" He’d been too disoriented earlier to notice his surroundings.

The man on the other side seemed momentarily speechless before finally saying, "I saw the Tianxuan Guard bring you in. Did you also offend His Majesty?"

*Also?*

Lin Ting immediately pressed against the wall. "Old uncle, were you thrown in here for offending the emperor too?"

The man gave an affirmative hum.

Lin Ting leaned back against the wall, muttering, "Then… is there any way out for us?"

A long silence followed. Finally, the old man said, "Those imprisoned by His Majesty’s order enter standing… and leave lying down."

Lin Ting’s heart grew cold. "So the only way out is in a coffin?"

Wait—no. Even if Pei Xingjian wanted him dead, he’d at least need to drain his blood first. Otherwise, where would the emperor find his cure? That meant he still had some use.

His thoughts racing, Lin Ting asked, "Old uncle, what brought you here?"

"The same as you—I offended the emperor."

The man paused before continuing, "Young friend, have you heard of Luoshi Village in the outskirts?"

Lin Ting hadn’t. Fortunately, the old man continued without waiting. "Luoshi Village sits by the Qu River. In recent years, rising water levels have caused frequent flooding downstream. After His Majesty took the throne, the Ministry of Works proposed building dikes near the capital to divert the river. But the project requires land, so the entire village must relocate."

"The Ministry of Revenue prepared compensation for the villagers and even built new houses in the city. Yet, the villagers refused to leave and clashed with the soldiers stationed at the village entrance. They are good, hardworking people. I believed we should explain things to them patiently, persuade them to move."

The old man sighed. "But His Majesty ordered the City Patrol and the Ministry of Works to force them out immediately—those who resisted were to be executed on the spot."

"What?" Lin Ting was stunned. "They’d be killed for refusing to leave?"

"Alas, this old man could not sway His Majesty. Instead, I gave him a headache and displeasure. I am ashamed."

"Wait—" Lin Ting suddenly remembered—Pei Xingjian had spent half a month in Caihua City. "Old uncle, who are you? And how long have you been here?"

"This old man is called Yan Que. By my count of days and nights, I have been here for over a month."

Prime Minister Yan! Lin Ting recalled now—in the dream he’d had after transmigrating, this very incident had appeared. After Pei Xingjian took the throne, his cruelty mostly targeted court officials, but the Luoshi Village incident became a catalyst for public anger.

In the dream, despite the prime minister’s protests, Pei Xingjian had sent the City Patrol to forcibly evict the villagers, leading to violent clashes. Blood soaked the grass at Luoshi Village’s entrance, and when the imprisoned prime minister heard of it, he cried, "This old man is useless! I failed to advise His Majesty and save the people in their hour of need!" before dashing his head against a pillar.

This act ignited fury among Great Yong’s scholars and officials. What had the villagers done wrong? What had Prime Minister Yan done wrong? If the tyrant could disregard lives for his goals today, what would stop him from trampling them for amusement tomorrow?

Anger and fear spread from the capital to every corner of Great Yong…

"Wait—where is the, uh, emperor at with this now? Are the villagers still there?"

Prime Minister Yan shook his head. "I have been here for over a month. I know nothing of the outside world."

Lin Ting reflected on the journey so far, guessing the emperor had been forced to Jiangnan over that prophecy before he could take action. Otherwise, upon their return to the capital, the citizens wouldn’t have been gawking at them like they were some spectacle.

In other words, there was still a chance to make things right.

Lin Ting stood up, brushing himself off, and said, "Prime Minister Yan, rest easy. I’ll make sure the villagers of Luoshi Village are safe."

Yan Que thought the kid was all talk. "You’re locked in this prison just like me. How do you plan to get out?"

Lin Ting just laughed it off. "No worries. Bet you someone will come for me soon." He took a whiff of himself—the faint medicinal fragrance still clung to him, though now mixed with the scent of straw after rolling around in the cell.

Hearing this, Yan Que shut right up. The young had this inexplicable self-assurance, much like his own son—or even himself in his youth, didn’t know their ass from their elbow.

Lin Ting waited and waited until the candle burned down to a nub on the guards’ table outside. Finally, the sound of the door opening reached his ears. Light came flooding in, illuminating a corner of the dim cell.

When he saw the two figures at the entrance, Lin Ting broke into a grin.

He waved at them. "Hey fellas, it’s you again! I told you not to rush. See? You’re back already."

The two Tianxuan Guard members unlocked the cell door. "His Majesty’s migraine’s acting up again. We’re here to take you back."

Lin Ting stood, brushing off the dust. "Right, let’s roll."

This time, he wasn’t dragged out between them but strutted out like he owned the place. Passing Yan Que’s cell, he saw the old timer’s gobsmacked look and grinned. "Prime Minister Yan, I’m off now. I’ll come back for you in a few days."

Yan Que’s beard twitched, but he said nothing.

-

The Chonghua Palace was packed with people on their knees. A small patch of floor near the desk was wet, a copper basin overturned beside it. A young maid at the back trembled, quietly sobbing. Behind the imperial desk, Pei Xingjian held a sword upright, its polished surface reflecting the room’s scene and casting a glaring halo over Zhao Dehai’s prostrate form.

You could hear a pin drop.

Pei Xingjian gripped the sword as the familiar stabbing pain surged again—like his veins were pumping lava, scorching as if he were pressed into a searing cauldron, tearing at his flesh and veins.

Everyone before him blurred, like they’d been dunked in blood, crimson from head to toe. If he thrust the blade into them, would the spurting blood make the scene even more vivid?

Blood… blood…

Pei Xingjian stepped toward one of the eunuchs, his footsteps thudding like death’s drumbeat. The eunuch, catching sight of the emperor’s boots approaching and the glint of the sword, completely lost his shit and scrambled backward in terror.

"Your Majesty, spare me! Please, spare me!" When he looked up, the emperor’s eyes like black holes met his, bloodshot and shadowed by disheveled hair—both eerie and hauntingly beautiful.

The sword flashed. The eunuch’s throat seized, and he passed out cold.

Just then, a frantic voice called from outside: "Where’s His Majesty? Let me in!"

Zhao Dehai could’ve kissed the ground in relief. Their lifeline had arrived.

-

Lin Ting stepped inside and froze at the horrifying sight before locking eyes with Pei Xingjian’s probing gaze. He froze like a deer in headlights.

*Wait, how far has this escalated? Can he still recognize people? Don’t tell me he’ll just slice me in half—*

A tug at his pants made him look down. Zhao Dehai, still flat on his face, whispered, "Mr. Lin, hurry! His Majesty’s already not recognizing anyone."

*Ah—?! Just like that? No protection? No armor or something?!*

Suddenly, Pei Xingjian strode straight toward him.

Lin Ting was glued to the spot. *What do I do now?*

Pei Xingjian stopped before him, like he’d seen something fascinating, and abruptly seized his wrist.

The emperor wore only a thin robe, sleeves rolled up, veins pulsing along his arms.

Lin Ting blinked. "Ohhh, you want me to treat you again, right? Then lie down—*ahh!*" The world spun before he could react as he was shoved onto the bed.

His brain short-circuited as a shadow loomed over him—Pei Xingjian pinned his wrists above his head and leaned down.

Lin Ting: ???

*Holy crap holy crap—is this dude gay?!*