Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Not well." Lin Ting said, his conviction that the man was mentally unstable solidifying once more.

"If Your Majesty has no further commands, I shall take my leave." Without waiting for Pei Xingjian's reply, he turned and walked out, bumping into table legs and doorframes along the way.

Zhao Dehai, waiting by the door, heard a series of clatters from within. He worried that the Emperor and Lord Lin might have come to blows—how could Lord Lin’s frail frame possibly stand against the Emperor? Just as he was about to fetch help, the main door suddenly swung open, and Lord Lin rushed out, bypassing him without a word and quickly disappearing.

That hurried figure seemed more like someone fleeing in panic.

Zhao Dehai: ??? What on earth just happened???

-

Lin Ting ran all the way back to the Chancellor's residence, gulped down a pot of tea from the table, and let out a long breath.

He had always maintained that a tyrant was a tyrant precisely because their actions defied normal human understanding. Look at what Pei Xingjian had just said. His origins were indeed a mystery, and while he had tried to explain, he knew the explanation sounded utterly implausible. But if he, a fine young man, were to be confined to the tyrant’s chambers day after day, what would that look like? It would be nothing short of house arrest!

Could the tyrant possibly harbor such a peculiar preference?

Lin Ting shivered. In his opinion, it was all the fault of that strange, alluring scent he emitted. If not for that, would he have been forcibly brought here?

He then instructed a servant to bring several incense sticks and a small incense burner into the room. He lit them with a fire striker, and as the flame licked the incense, blue smoke began to waft gently.

Passersby saw wisps of blue smoke curling from the window of Lord Lin’s room, where he was kneeling, facing the heavens, muttering prayers.

The servants whispered among themselves: "What is Lord Lin doing?"

"Who knows, it's all very mysterious."

"Could Lord Lin be communicating with spirits?" "Who cares? Lord Lin saved our household. I’ve heard that powerful people often have secrets they can’t share with outsiders. As long as we do our jobs well, that’s enough."

"Shoo, stop gawking."

After burning incense and praying, Lin Ting felt a little more at ease. Since he was already here and couldn’t return anytime soon, he might as well accept his fate.

That peculiar "system" had told him to save the tyrant. In the dream he’d seen, the tyrant was beheaded on horseback, enemy forces invaded, burning, killing, and plundering. People were slaughtered or violated, the scene utterly unbearable. Now that he was in Great Yong, for the sake of a peaceful and happy future, he had to persuade the tyrant to curb his impulsive killings.

Lin Ting made a wish to the Bodhisattva: let him live well, at least without the constant threat of the tyrant’s sword at his neck or chest. How many lives did he even have to squander like this?!

The incense smoke rose straight up, as if agreeing to his request.

Lin Ting’s heart lifted, and he made another wish: once the tyrant’s headaches were cured, he would retire to the mountains, living as a wealthy, carefree man, preferably never seeing Pei Xingjian’s stormy, mercurial face again.

Then, the rising smoke suddenly twisted and swayed, as if shaking its head.

Lin Ting: "...Hmph!" After all his hard work for them, they couldn’t even grant him this one small request? How was this any different from working for a slave-driver?

If he didn’t retire to the mountains, what else could he do—become the emperor’s right-hand man? He couldn’t even read most of the characters here. As if the emperor would ever appoint him!

Then the smoke seemed to pause for a moment before straightening again.

Lin Ting: "...Heh heh!!!"

He was utterly exhausted.

Putting the incense burner away, he just made it in time for lunch at the Prime Minister’s residence. Lin Ting cast all his worries aside and wolfed down two bowls of rice. Well, he’d eaten little in the morning and was starving.

Lady Yan, her usual melancholy lifted, kept piling food into Lin Ting’s bowl. After all, Lin Ting was younger than her son yet had already achieved so much—his future was boundless. She even said he could stay at the Prime Minister’s residence as long as he liked. When she learned of his background, she nearly burst into tears, almost pulling him into adopting him as her godson.

In the end, it was the rational Yan Ji who stopped her. Though he’d never entered court, he knew this much: high-ranking officials forming close bonds was never a good thing. Especially under their current emperor, who slaughtered without hesitation. If the emperor found out, their heads would roll.

Lin Ting finally managed to extricate himself from Madam Yan's enthusiastic hospitality and returned to his room. He immediately asked the servants to fetch some children's handwriting practice sheets, ink, and brushes. Facing the curious and probing gazes of the servants, Lin Ting said mysteriously, "I have my own use for them."

The servants were so bewildered that they quickly gathered all the requested items.

Then Lin Ting dismissed everyone and began practicing calligraphy.

He thought to himself that to survive in this world, reading and writing were essential—otherwise, he might be tricked one day without even realizing it. Fortunately, his small courtyard was out of the way, and few people usually came by.

Lin Ting spent the entire afternoon in his room. During dinner, Yan Ji suddenly suggested, "Tomorrow, let's visit the new settlement of the Luoshi Village villagers. That way, we can give my grandfather an account."

Ah, right—Prime Minister Yan was still imprisoned. Back then, Pei Xingjian had said he would release the prime minister once the villagers were relocated. Yet, the day was nearly done, and still no word.

Lost in thought, Lin Ting decided to find time the next day to go to the palace and check.

Ugh, what a pain—another trip to the palace.

-

Night fell, with a clear moon and sparse stars, a warm, gentle breeze.

After washing up, Lin Ting lay down on the bed, ready to turn in.

His mind wandered to the next day's palace visit, which inevitably led him to think about facing Pei Xingjian again. And the moment he thought of Pei Xingjian, what he'd seen that morning at Shuhua Pool suddenly flashed in his mind.

According to novels, nine out of ten emperors were ripped, and the tenth had an exceptionally great one. Though he had expected Pei Xingjian to be fit, he hadn't anticipated just how fit. How did an emperor, who spent his days buried in paperwork with a work schedule like a 24/7 job, maintain such a physique?

And in the misty water, that area looked pretty—

Holy shit! Lin Ting suddenly realized what he was thinking. He blinked in confusion, staring at the bed canopy.

"Ah—"

"What the hell, what was I just thinking?" Lin Ting bolted upright, clutching the corner of his blanket in horror. "I'm totally straight!"

He glanced down at his own stomach—flat, with just a faint two-pack. Truly, comparing yourself to others is a recipe for misery. He must have been so traumatized by Pei Xingjian's physique that it lingered in his mind. Starting tomorrow, he would begin training—he was determined to get himself an eight-pack.

Having rationalized it, Lin Ting settled down and fell asleep.

Then, in the middle of the night—

"Ah—!" A scream split the night air, startling the dozing guard dog, which let out an angry bark. Who dared disturb its sleep?

Lin Ting sat huddled in the corner of his bed, clutching the blanket. He had just had a dream—in it, someone with rock-solid eight-pack abs had appeared, and he had even reached out to touch them, marveling at their smooth texture. But when he looked up, Pei Xingjian's face suddenly loomed over him, jolting him awake.

Shivering under the covers, Lin Ting concluded that one should never lay eyes on abs too magnificent—otherwise, they'd haunt your dreams.

-

Early the next morning, Yan Ji came to fetch Lin Ting. They had agreed to visit the new settlement of the Luoshi Village villagers that day.

After three knocks, the door finally opened, revealing a face that looked completely drained of energy.

Yan Ji jumped back three steps in shock. "Lord Lin, what happened to you?"

Lin Ting opened the door wider and said, "Nothing serious. Just a bad night's sleep."

Yan Ji relaxed slightly—at least it wasn't due to anything unspeakable.

Lin Ting went inside and poured tea for both of them. After gulping down two cups, he finally seemed a bit more alive.

"Were there mosquitoes at night?" Yan Ji asked. It was March or April, springtime, when everything's blooming—mosquitoes were particularly active, and sleepless nights due to their buzzing were common.

"The estate has bug-repelling herbs. I'll have the servants prepare some. Lighting them in the room for two hours each night should keep the mosquitoes away."

"Thank you," Lin Ting murmured exhaustedly, humoring Yan Ji's remark. After all, he couldn't very well explain that he'd been so distracted by the emperor's torso the day before that he couldn't sleep all night. If he said that, how would that look? Would they even be able to have a pleasant conversation after that?

After breakfast, they headed to the relocated village of Luoshi. The new settlement built by the court was located in Que'er Alley in the eastern part of the city, close to the city gates—doubtless to facilitate the villagers going in and out to tend their crops.

When they arrived, they saw the villagers busy at work. Though they had moved, the entire village still lived together, and their bonds remained strong. When they spotted Lin Ting, they warmly invited him in for tea.

"Our lives are better than before," a peasant woman said. "The fields the court gave us are easier to farm."

A man behind her gestured excitedly, "This year, our harvest will be a third more than last year's!"

...

Seeing them so happy, Lin Ting felt relieved.

Before leaving, the village chief pulled out a handful of silver ingots from his pocket and said, "My lord, this is the silver that man gave us before. We've been thinking these past few days about handing it over to you."

By rights, this silver was tainted and should have been turned over. But Lin Ting had some personal considerations—after all, the villagers had suffered partly because of the Marquis of Anding and that Mr. Wang. Without those two inciting them, the villagers might have moved long ago.

So he waved his hand and said, "Chief, you keep this silver. The court won't hold you accountable for it."

These villagers had been through enough—having endured a flood, with so many things still needed for their homes. This money could count as restitution from Mr. Wang and the Marquis of Anding.

The villagers had never seen such a kind official before and profusely thanked Lin Ting, the court, and the emperor.

Lin Ting was pleased. The panic among the Luoshi villagers over the "tyrant" had been perfectly resolved. Surely this meant the tyrant's death was even further away now? He had crossed over here without even a system to guide him, so he had no clue what stage the plot was—he could only guess.

After leaving New Luoshi Village, Lin Ting made his way back to the palace—Prime Minister Yan was still languishing in the dungeons, and he needed to get him released.

Upon entering the palace, Zhao Dehai reported that the emperor had just risen and was currently bathing.

Lin Ting meant to wait outside Xiangning Hall, but Zhao Dehai insisted on pulling him inside.

Behind a screen embroidered with golden dragons, a faint silhouette could be seen. Just as Lin Ting entered, the figure behind the screen rose from the bathtub. Reflexively, Lin Ting shut his eyes, only to stumble and nearly fall.

Fortunately, he caught himself on Zhao Dehai in time—otherwise, he would have taken a spill right there. What a disgrace that would have been!

"Your Majesty, Lord Lin is here," Zhao Dehai announced.

The figure behind the screen inclined his head, pulling on a robe with both hands, the loose fabric covering most of the broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Lin Ting waited a few breaths before Pei Xingjian emerged from behind the screen, properly attired.

Clad in dark blue brocade robes, his damp hair hung down, and his eyes were streaked with red—as if suffering from a headache.

Lin Ting glanced at Zhao Dehai.

Zhao Dehai nodded. In the past, when the emperor's headaches began, he would take medicinal soaks. Sometimes it helped suppress the pain in the early stages, but more often than not, it only slowed the worsening. The end result was always the same.

Pei Xingjian sat on a pearwood chair and looked up at Lin Ting.

The man seemed cowed by yesterday's exchange, standing behind Zhao Dehai with lowered eyes, hands wringing anxiously in front of his stomach as if deeply conflicted.

"Lin Ting, come here," he said.

Lin Ting went rigid, visions of yesterday's dream flooding through his mind. He really didn’t want to go over, but he had no choice but to obey the emperor’s command.

As he approached, a familiar medicinal scent wafted over, soothing the stabbing pain in Pei Xingjian’s head. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Once the headache abated somewhat, he said, "I thought you wouldn’t dare come back."

Lin Ting lifted his face, shadows beneath his eyes betraying his lack of sleep.

"Your Majesty, the task I promised to complete is done. As for Prime Minister Yan—"

Pei Xingjian had already guessed why he was here. Tapping the desk with a finger, he called out in a low voice, "Tianxuan Guard—release Yan Que."

The Tianxuan Guard acknowledged the order and left.

Lin Ting let out a relieved breath. With his purpose here fulfilled, he began thinking about leaving.

Pei Xingjian read him like an open book. "Want to go back?"

Lin Ting nodded.

Suddenly, Pei Xingjian stood up. A potent medicinal scent rushed into Lin Ting’s nose, and he recoiled. Memories of yesterday came rushing back, and his gaze unconsciously lingered on Pei Xingjian’s abdomen. When he finally looked up, he met Pei Xingjian’s cold, icy gaze and immediately averted his eyes.

Please tell me he didn’t notice me staring. That would be beyond mortifying.

Pei Xingjian’s headache had abated, and he was in a good mood. With a regal gesture, he said magnanimously, "Dismissed."

Lin Ting’s eyes widened. The tyrant was in such a forgiving mood today?

He hurriedly followed Zhao Dehai out.

When Zhao Dehai returned to the hall, he saw the emperor dipping his brush in ink, the strokes on the paper light and flowing.

Two palace attendants stood behind him, carefully drying his damp hair with cloths.

Zhao Dehai approached quietly and said, "Your Majesty, this old servant noticed Lord Lin had shadows beneath his eyes—it seems he didn’t sleep well last night."

Pei Xingjian rolled up the thin sheet of paper and handed it to Zhao Dehai, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Young people have too much fire in them. Go pick some restoratives from the imperial stores and send them to him."

Zhao Dehai froze for a moment before understanding clicked. Ah—so that’s how it is.

A knowing look crept into his eyes.

My, Lord Lin, you truly—