Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty.” Eunuch Zhao shuffled into the warm chamber with quick, measured steps. Seeing the emperor frowning, he couldn't quite gauge the situation and lowered his voice, “Commander Zhuo requests an audience.”

If it were anyone else, Eunuch Zhao would never have dared to interrupt. What outside matter could possibly take precedence over His Majesty?

But Zhuo was the leader of the Xuan Guard, and the emperor's assignments to him were top priority. Any slightest movement had to be reported immediately—any delay would bring punishment upon them all.

Pei Xingjian slept lightly and had been roused the moment Eunuch Zhao entered. Pressing his temples, his head pulsed with dull pain as he said in a deep voice, “Let them in.”

Eunuch Zhao went back outside to usher them in, bringing in the Minister of Works as well, who had been waiting for the emperor to wake.

By the time the group entered, Pei Xingjian had already been helped into his formal robes by the attendants and was stepping out of the warm chamber.

Perhaps due to the brief rest, his eyes now appeared clear, his posture upright—no longer bearing the marks of his headache's torment.

Outside, the rain sheeted down. Pei Xingjian gazed at the gray mist formed by the endless downpour, a sense of foreboding settled in his chest.

The Imperial Astronomers had predicted this heavy rain would arrive within the next two days.

As soon as the two entered, Minister of Works Zhao Yi knelt and said, “Your Majesty, the water level in Luoshi Village has risen. Given the current rainfall, flooding seems imminent.”

Immediately after, Zhuo also knelt and reported, “Your Majesty, Lord Lin and Young Master Yan have gone to Luoshi Village.”

Lightning split the leaden sky, illuminating the room for an instant before darkness swallowed it again.

A stabbing pain lanced through Pei Xingjian’s head once more. Dismissing them with a wave, he leaned back in his chair, brows tightly knit.

The Chonghua Palace was eerily silent. Eunuch Zhao hardly dared to breathe. Observing the emperor’s expression—lips pressed into a thin line, face gone pale—he recognized the familiar signs of an impending headache.

“Your Majesty,” Eunuch Zhao whispered, “should we summon Lord Lin back?” Without Lord Lin present, he felt uneasy.

Eyes bloodshot and glaring, Pei Xingjian restrained himself and said, “No need.”

These past few days, he'd come to rely too much on Lin Ting.

Perhaps this was exactly what whoever was pulling the strings wanted—to make him reliant on Lin Ting, thinking they'd discovered his vulnerability to achieve some hidden goal.

But he wasn't that powerless pawn anymore. He had endured a decade of pain; their schemes were bound to fail.

Eunuch Zhao grew more anxious watching the emperor's bloodshot eyes.

He had cared for His Majesty ever since he was brought out of the cold palace. Back then, the emperor had no backing, no influence—nothing compared to those princes with powerful maternal families. Instead, he'd often borne their bullying.

Living day after day in a web of deceit, surrounded by people with ulterior motives, the emperor had grown up deeply suspicious.

Now, having finally found a “cure” for his headaches, he remained convinced that Lord Lin’s closeness was part of some scheme.

Having lived most of his life in the palace, Eunuch Zhao prided himself on recognizing all kinds of people. The candor in Lord Lin’s eyes couldn't be feigned.

Wanting to speak in Lord Lin’s favor, he said, “This old servant has followed Your Majesty for over a decade. If Your Majesty has any doubts about Lord Lin, simply assign more Xuan Guards to watch him. He remains within Your Majesty’s control—why make yourself suffer over it?”

Outside, the rain hammered down, each drop like a hammer blow to the heart.

After a long silence, Pei Xingjian suddenly ordered, “Prepare the carriage.”

***

By the time Lin Ting and the others arrived at Luoshi Village, the rain had intensified.

Yan Ji lifted the carriage curtain, but within moments, the doorway was soaked, water creeping across the floorboards.

“I’ve never seen rain this heavy in all my life,” he said worriedly, his voice nearly drowned out by the downpour drumming against the carriage roof.

Peering outside, he found he could barely see three steps ahead, beyond which was nothing but white mist. He immediately dropped the curtain and turned to Lin Ting. “Perhaps we should turn back and return once the rain eases.”

Lin Ting also looked out through the gap in the curtain. The village was veiled in white, the rising mist enveloping Luoshi Village completely.

This was no ordinary rain. Lin Ting grabbed an umbrella and moved to step out, but Yan Ji grabbed his sleeve.

“Lord Lin, the rain is too heavy. For your own safety, let’s wait it out.” Though the emperor had granted them extra time, the villagers wouldn't be easily persuaded. He was anxious too, but Lin Ting was slender, clearly untrained in martial arts. If the storm winds caught him, not only would they fail to save his grandfather, but he'd also have no way to account for it to the emperor.

But Lin Ting was determined. Without turning back, he said, “It’s fine. The rain is too heavy—I’m worried about flooding in Luoshi Village. I need to check.” With that, he stepped out of the carriage.

In an instant, the driving rain soaked through his shoes. Even with the umbrella, he was drenched within moments.

Seeing this, Yan Ji grabbed a large umbrella and hurried after him.

At the village entrance, they saw the Qu River surging dangerously under the storm, its waters already level with the banks. Wind and rain churned the surface, breaching the banks to flood the fields.

“Water—the water’s coming in!” a villager shouted. “Everyone, run!”

In an instant, doors flung open across the village as the residents poured out, grabbing whatever valuables they could carry, fleeing toward the entrance.

The rain had saturated the ground. Every step sank ankle-deep into the mire before being yanked free, sending mud flying. Footprints left clear marks, only to be erased moments later by the relentless downpour.

Though the rain was torrential, only Lin Ting's party bothered with umbrellas. Everyone else braved the storm as they hauled their belongings. In the chaos, someone lost a shoe but had no time to retrieve it, running barefoot through the mud.

In this life-or-death moment, terror showed on every rain-lashed face.

Before their eyes, the river overflowed into the crop fields, then spilled onto the village paths.

“This is a flood,” Yan Ji said suddenly, barking orders to bring the carriage nearer so the villagers could temporarily store their valuables inside.

When he turned back, he saw Lin Ting had already handed his umbrella to a servant, rolled up his pants, and dashed into the rain.

“Lord Lin—!” Yan Ji called out, but Lin Ting was swallowed by the rain's curtain. He quickly turned and instructed, “Hurry and fetch the Capital Prefect—bring physicians too.” After this rain, every household would suffer losses, and illness would spread like wildfire. An epidemic might even break out.

“Chicken—chicken!”

Lin Ting rushed over, snatching up a chicken that had fallen from a basket and stuffing it back inside. Next, he grabbed a duck that had escaped. “Duck—duck!” Then he heard barking and realized a dog was still tied to a post near the village path.

“And the dog!” Lin Ting ran over, untying the rope. The dog yapped frantically at him.

Lin Ting clamped its mouth shut and shouted, “Stop barking! Get to higher ground!” The dog seemed to understand, scampering toward higher ground with the crowd.

Lin Ting pressed forward and spotted the village chief hobbling behind with his cane, the floodwaters snapping at his heels like a beast.

The water had already reached knee-height, making every step a struggle. Seeing the chief fall behind, Lin Ting waded against the current. A villager passing by tried to pull him along. “Young man, the flood’s coming! Why are you going further in?”

“The chief’s still back there!” Lin Ting shouted, pushing through until he reached the old man. Turning, he bent slightly. “Chief, climb on my back.”

The chief’s sodden robes hung on his gaunt frame. He pushed at Lin Ting weakly, his trembling voice barely audible over the rain. “Go on without me, young man. I’m old—I’ll only slow you down.”

Another villager, doubling back, helped hoist the chief onto Lin Ting’s back before rushing off to retrieve his own belongings.

“It’s fine,” Lin Ting said, plodding step by step through the churning brown water. The flood had risen past his knees, submerging the village path entirely. He could only follow the villagers blindly, inching forward.

By the time he carried the chief to higher ground, Lin Ting was drenched from head to toe. His heavy robes clung to him, so he stripped off the outer layer, leaving only a thin white underrobe.

“Waaah—!” A child’s sudden wail drew everyone’s attention. A little boy, who had wandered off to play in the fields, now stood chin-deep in the rising water, clutching a wooden post and crying desperately.

“My child, my child!” A village woman suddenly shrieked and tried to run toward the flooded area, only to be held back by the crowd. “It's suicide—the whole village is underwater!”

“Woman, mind our things. I'll go save the child,” a burly farmer barked, just as he saw a young man dive into the water and swim toward the child.

“Who is that?”

“That's the fellow who came by last harvest.”

“No, the rain is too heavy. That young man might get swept away!”

Yan Ji had just cleared the carriage and was about to search for Lin Ting when he spotted the figure swimming farther into the floodwaters. His gut clenched in terror.

“Why is he going even deeper?”

Lin Ting muscled through the torrent to reach the child. He was grateful he had learned to swim in the past and that his skills remained intact since coming to this world—otherwise, someone unfamiliar with water would have been carried away long ago.

He peeled the kid's death grip open. “Little one, don't be afraid. Put your hands on my back.” The floodwaters surged, pushing them farther away.

The kid was hysterical, all snot and screams, only wailing instinctively, unable to comprehend Lin Ting's words.

Out of options, Lin Ting forcibly freed the child's hands and wrapped the kid's arms around his neck in a chokehold. Then, he swam with the current toward the shore.

By the time they reached the bank, villagers pulled the child to safety.

Running on empty, Lin Ting saw hands reaching for him but found himself unable to lift his own. His body, pushed beyond its limits, gave out, and he collapsed backward, his vision tunneling to black.

Was he really going to die like this? Lin Ting wondered.

Just before his eyes closed completely, a shadow swooped in his peripheral vision. Then, he felt a force pulling him upward. Moments later, the river's pull disappeared.

Muffled shouts cut through the haze—“Lord Lin,” “drowning”—but he couldn't tell how much time had passed before he was laid on a hard surface.

His thoughts were cotton-thick, as if he needed to do something, but he couldn't remember what.

After what seemed like an eternity, his thoughts gradually cleared. Then, he heard a familiar voice calling, “Lord Lin, Lord Lin...”

Lin Ting slowly opened his eyes to meet glacial eyes burning with fury, their gaze piercing and oppressive. The weight of that stare could crush stones.

A bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the dim carriage.

Lin Ting froze, his voice hoarse. “Sire?!”