Chapter 24

Chapter 24

After applying the ointment, Pei Xingjian withdrew his hand.

The warm sensation vanished instantly. Lin Ting clenched his fingertips, then released them.

What was this? Why did he feel a pang of reluctance?

Pei Xingjian had already turned to leave. Reaching the doorway, he realized the other hadn’t followed and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Lin Ting, come along.”

Lin Ting’s thoughts snapped back. He saw Pei Xingjian standing in the doorway, light streaming past him, making him appear even more imposing.

He glanced twice, then pulled down his sleeve and followed.

On the way to court, Pei Xingjian asked, “How fared those men from last night?”

Zhao Dehai explained, “Vice Ministers Wang and Li of the Ministry of Works injured their hands. Fortunately, the imperial physicians treated them promptly, so they can still attend court today. Vice Minister Geng of the Ministry of Personnel was merely startled and took leave today.”

Pei Xingjian’s expression remained placid. “Go to the storeroom and find some tonics to send over.”

Zhao Dehai assented, “Understood.”

Upon arriving at the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Lin Ting immediately sensed an unusual chill in the atmosphere.

He looked down; the ministers below all appeared to have slept poorly. He mused that they had likely all heard the news of the emperor’s headache episode last night, which had injured several officials.

Especially among the array of crimson and violet robes, two even had their hands wrapped in white bandages—a clear sign of having endured someone’s ‘mistreatment.’

When the emperor ascended the dais, the officials instantly fell silent, standing uneasily.

Pei Xingjian swept his gaze across the hall before settling on the two injured ministers. “Vice Ministers Wang and Li, are you well?”

The two men, startled by being named, shook their heads repeatedly. “Your humble servants are well, Your Majesty. Thank you for the timely treatment.”

Pei Xingjian said, “Yesterday, my migraine flared, and I inadvertently harmed you. I have already ordered some tonics to be sent.”

The two ministers expressed their gratitude once more.

Meanwhile, the surrounding officials were inwardly stunned. In the past, the emperor had always been highly resistant to, even evasive about, discussing this issue. Whenever someone was injured, everyone pretended nothing had happened, leaving the unfortunate to suffer while the rest trembled in fear.

Who could have imagined the emperor would one day personally offer compensation?

Moreover, in previous episodes of his headache, bloodshed had been inevitable. Yet last night, only three were injured, with no irreversible consequences.

The ministers, thoroughly conditioned by years of this, inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they were left alive, that was enough. They weren’t greedy—not at all.

-

The court session continued its usual tedium.

Below the dais, ministers took turns speaking.

Lin Ting listened for a while, realizing everyone’s speech was laced with classical allusions he couldn’t comprehend.

Recalling the Great Yong’s writing system, he sighed inwardly—who knew transmigrating would render him functionally illiterate?

As he listened, he began to feel drowsy.

Pei Xingjian was attentively listening to the ministers’ reports when soft snoring suddenly came from beside him.

He glanced sideways and, sure enough, saw Lin Ting bobbing his head like a pecking chick.

Pei Xingjian was about to tap the table to alert him but noticed faint dark circles under the man’s eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well the night before.

He swallowed hard, but in the end, said nothing and averted his gaze.

Below, the Minister of War was reporting, “Last month, the Yelang Kingdom continuously dispatched small teams to harass our Great Yong’s borders. The Dingguo Army seized the opportunity to launch an attack and decisively defeated the Yelang forces…”

*Clang!*

A sudden loud noise interrupted the Minister’s words. The officials below craned their necks curiously, only to see Lord Lin, near the Son of Heaven, kneeling beside the dragon throne, one hand pressed to his forehead, his lips downturned as if aggrieved.

The exposed part of his forehead, visible through his fingers, was red, as if he had bumped into something.

Every official present was shrewd. Considering the hard objects near Lord Lin, the only possible culprit was the Emperor’s dragon throne. As for how he had managed to bump into it, the dark circles under his eyes explained everything.

The officials instantly grew apprehensive.

A guard dozing off during court—this was no small matter!

The hall fell silent in an instant, everyone staring at Lord Lin in horror.

Lin Ting wanted to cry. Having slept poorly the night before, he had grown drowsy after standing for less than half an hour. He might have endured it, but the ministers’ droning sounded like gibberish to him.

And gibberish was the most sleep-inducing thing of all. Before he knew it, Lin Ting had closed his eyes.

He jolted awake—from pain—and found himself sprawled on the ground. He had no idea what had happened, but his forehead throbbed fiercely, the pain sharp enough to make his eyes water.

Wincing, he looked up to see Pei Xingjian standing right in front of him, his brow furrowed, expression stern.

Lin Ting froze. A glance from the corner of his eye confirmed that court was still in session.

Meaning he’d not only dozed off in court but also crashed into the dragon throne.

He swallowed hard and whispered, “Your Majesty, this subject was wrong.” *This is bad—really bad. I messed up in front of everyone—will I be dragged out and beaten now?*

Pei Xingjian’s chest burned with anger. Negligence was the least of his offenses—if he pursued the matter, Lin Ting could even be charged with imperial disrespect.

But seeing Lin Ting’s eyes glistening with tears, on the verge of falling, his forehead red from the impact, Pei Xingjian’s anger gradually dissipated.

Lin Ting’s skin was naturally fair; even the slightest bump left a mark—a trait hardly fitting for a former street urchin.

With a wave of his hand, Pei Xingjian said, “You’re dismissed.”

After a pause, he added, “Apply the ointment.” At this rate, one jar of jade dew salve might not be enough for him.

The officials below were stunned that the Emperor had let Lord Lin off so easily. Their eyes lit up at Lin Ting.

*Who said Lord Lin was useless? He’s wonderful! Ever since he entered the palace, His Majesty hasn’t had a headache episode in court for days.*

A few elder officials, deeply moved, nearly wept—*Look at this peaceful court session. It’s been years since we’ve seen one like this.*

-

When court adjourned, Pei Xingjian rose and left.

Lin Ting, waiting in the back, heard the commotion ahead and hastily swallowed the peach blossom cake in his hand. He clapped his hands clean and wiped his lips with a handkerchief. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure in imperial yellow striding forward.

As Pei Xingjian passed by, his gaze flickered to the corner of Lin Ting’s mouth. “Hungry?” he remarked flatly.

Lin Ting wiped his mouth again but found nothing. He had swallowed the cake a second before Pei Xingjian arrived and had even wiped his lips thoroughly with the handkerchief—how had the man noticed? It didn’t make sense.

Straightening up, he admitted, “A little.” Then, sneaking a peek at Pei Xingjian’s face, he ventured, “Your Majesty, when is lunch?” They’d rushed out that morning, and Lin Ting had only managed a bowl of porridge, a plate of side dishes, and two pear blossom pastries. The palace’s pastries were far more refined than those outside—the pear blossom pastries melted in his mouth, their rich flavor lingering on his tongue. Now, barely after morning court, he was already hungry again.

Pei Xingjian studied him intently. “There’s still an hour until noon,” he said.

The spark in Lin Ting’s eyes instantly died.

Pei Xingjian glanced at him again and suddenly called for Qingzi, “Tell the imperial kitchen to prepare some pastries.”

Qingzi immediately left upon receiving the order.

Lin Ting’s eyes brightened again in an instant.

He’d always said Pei Xingjian wasn’t the kind of boss who exploited his subordinates. As the saying goes, “A worker needs good tools to do his work well.” How could anyone work efficiently if they weren’t even well-fed?

Seeing Lin Ting’s eyes nearly crinkle into a smile, Pei Xingjian calmly averted his gaze and left with Eunuch Zhao.

Lin Ting quickly followed suit. That little treat had him reenergized to work again!

Back in Chonghua Hall, Pei Xingjian was about to review memorials when he noticed Lin Ting lingering at the door.

He waved his hand. “Come here.”

Lin Ting obediently stood by his side, playing the perfect decorative attendant.

Soon after, the imperial kitchen delivered the pastries.

The pastries were fresh, their mouthwatering scent filling the air.

The serving eunuch knew they were for Lord Lin, so he deliberately placed the tray closer to Lin Ting’s side.

After all, it was common knowledge that the Emperor had no sweet tooth. Over the years, the pastry chefs in the imperial kitchen had been left with little to do, pulling out all the stops day after day, hoping His Majesty might deign to take a bite. But their Emperor was not one to compromise—he’d rather let the pastries sit untouched than indulge.

Now that a pastry-loving official had arrived in the palace, the chefs were nearly overjoyed.

Lin Ting’s gaze was glued to the pastries. He had always had a sweet tooth—sweets could lift his spirits. In the past, whenever he felt down, he would buy some pastries to cheer himself up.

The heart may ache, but the mouth should feast!

After waiting a while and seeing Pei Xingjian’s attention fixed on the memorials with no intention of touching the pastries, Lin Ting wet his lips eagerly and asked, “Your Majesty, aren’t you going to eat any?”

Pei Xingjian looked up from the memorial, meeting Lin Ting’s eyes, which were entirely focused on the pastries.

Briefly, he couldn’t decide whether to feel annoyed or amused.

He hadn’t been hiding the memorials—if Lin Ting had been curious, he could have easily glanced at their contents. But this man seemed utterly uninterested in official business, caring only for delicious food and amusing pastimes.

Surely he hadn’t entered the palace just to steal a chef.

“I won’t eat. You have them.” He pushed the tray slightly toward Lin Ting.

Without hesitation, Lin Ting picked up a piece and took a bite.

Back in Caihua City, he had heard people say that the palace’s pastries were truly in a class of their own. As he savored the taste, he found it matched the rumors perfectly.

If given the chance, he’d love to take a palace chef back with him—enjoying a different feast every day.

Pei Xingjian was reviewing a memorial, brush about to write, when a tiny pastry speck suddenly fell onto the document. His brow furrowed.

Lin Ting looked down and saw the speck as well. He stopped rubbing his hands and shoved them into his sleeves.

That was the pastry’s fault—it had nothing to do with him!

A vein twitched at Pei Xingjian’s temple. “Take that outside,” he said.

Lin Ting was more than happy to oblige. Carrying the tray, he sat down on the steps outside the hall.

What could he do? He had strong work principles. Since it was work hours, he couldn’t just leave Chonghua Hall. Sitting on the steps still counted as being within the hall’s premises—perfectly reasonable.

Once settled, he noticed the guards standing rigidly at attention. After a moment of hesitation, he secretly pulled out a storybook from his robe.

Heh heh, working hard at hardly working!

Inside the hall, Zhuo was still reporting, “During Your Majesty’s absence in the southwest, the Empress Dowager visited Chonghua Hall multiple times. The maids and eunuchs were all questioned.”

Silence filled the hall for a moment.

Eunuch Zhao whispered, “Your Majesty, the guards outside Chonghua Hall are heavily stationed. It’s just that…”

“Should we probe the situation?”

After a long pause, the Emperor at his desk waved his hand, signaling Zhuo to leave.

Eunuch Zhao fell silent and stood aside.

Pei Xingjian reviewed a few more memorials before rubbing his temples and leaning back. Suddenly, he noticed the figure sitting at the entrance—his shoulders shaking, his upper body quaking. He stared for a while.

Eunuch Zhao, keenly sensing the Emperor’s gaze, also looked outside. Seeing Lin Ting trembling incessantly, a thought struck him:

“Sire, could it be… Lord Lin is crying?”

Pei Xingjian paused mid-rub and asked, puzzled, “Why would he cry?”

Eunuch Zhao replied, “Perhaps Your Majesty ordering Lord Lin to leave Chonghua Hall made him feel he had displeased Your Majesty!”

Was that so?

Pei Xingjian frowned, then suddenly stood and walked around the imperial desk to see for himself.