Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The carriage drew to a halt before the Lin residence.

Lin Ting alighted, watching the emperor's carriage vanish from sight before turning to enter the gate.

The next day, he rose early and, en route to the palace, specifically instructed the coachman to take a wide detour along the main road, passing by the Capital Office.

The number of protestors had dwindled by more than half, and a clear path had finally opened before the Capital Office. It seemed most scholars had been swayed by the emperor's words the previous day.

Moreover, he spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. From a distance, he recognized Wang Ya and his companions.

At that moment, they stood before the protesting scholars, seemingly engaged in persuasion.

Some scholars, initially filled with righteous indignation and shouting slogans, gradually lowered their protesting arms under the gentle persuasion of Wang Ya and his group, turning to leave.

Lin Ting rested his chin on his hand, observing from afar for a while before finally letting the carriage curtain fall with a sense of relief.

It seemed the emperor's image had finally begun to shift.

He called out, "Uncle Ma, let's go."

With a crack of the whip, the carriage quietly resumed its journey towards the palace.

Upon arriving at the palace gates, Lin Ting stepped out of the carriage but found no sign of Qingzi waiting to receive him.

As a court official, he was not permitted free entry and exit from the palace. Previously, either Eunuch Qing or Eunuch Zhao would escort him inside.

After waiting at the gate for a while with no one appearing, Lin Ting grew restless. Though he had left early, the detour had taken a considerable amount of time—had he perhaps missed his appointed hour?

He approached the palace guards and inquired, "Excuse me, brother, could you tell me the current time?"

The guard replied respectfully, "Lord Lin, it is already past the *mao* hour (5-7 AM)."

"Oh, I see." Lin Ting nodded in relief. His official reporting time was at the *chen* hour (7-9 AM)—he had arrived early, and the eunuch meant to receive him hadn't even arrived yet.

With a casual wave of his hand, he said, "Then I'll wait a little longer over here." He proceeded to sit on the stone steps beside the palace gate.

No sooner had he settled than a guard approached and announced, "Orders from above state that Lord Lin possesses a jade token personally bestowed by His Majesty, granting him unrestricted access to the palace without requiring our notification. Lord Lin may enter now."

With that, the guards at the gate automatically parted into two rows, leaving a wide passage in the middle.

"Lord Lin, please."

Lin Ting peered inside, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

It wasn't that he worried about being denied entry—if he were truly barred from the palace, he could simply wait for a eunuch to fetch him. If they forgot, he could legitimately go home and sleep in. What a splendid opportunity to shirk work!

He *could* enter, but—he hadn't fully memorized the routes.

In the past, either Eunuch Qing or Eunuch Zhao had led him inside, and he had naturally dozed off along the way—a skill he had perfected in college.

Now, he was alone, faced with endless, winding paths. The palace boasted hundreds of routes, each leading to a different destination. If he took a wrong turn at any fork, he'd be rewarded with an all-day tour of the palace.

He didn't particularly want to go in like this, but since he was already here, he might as well collect his day's pay.

"Alright, alright."

Lin Ting stepped through the palace gates and began navigating the labyrinth based on his limited memory.

After numerous twists and turns, taking two wrong side paths, missing several corners, and even roping in a passing palace maid for guidance, he finally spotted the plaque of Chonghua Hall in the distance, just as his legs were on the verge of giving out.

"Lord Lin, Chonghua Hall is at the end of this path, turn right. This servant cannot approach any closer and must leave you here."

Lin Ting exhaled a long, turbid breath, wiping the sweat from his brow and panting, "Thank you."

The palace maid blushed, shyly saying, "If my lord requires anything else, please feel free to command."

Lin Ting paused. "Actually, I do have one more thing—what time is it now?"

Pei Xingjian had set his reporting time at the *chen* hour. If he was late, his wages would be docked.

The maid, not expecting such a question, looked surprised before answering, "It's not yet the *chen* hour."

Lin Ting patted his chest in sudden relief. "That was close! Still on time for work." Earning this meager salary was truly not easy.

After dismissing the palace maid, Lin Ting stepped inside.

Just as he entered the gates of Chonghua Hall, he suddenly heard an anxious voice behind him. "Oh, Lord Lin! So you're here!"

Lin Ting turned to see Zhao Dehai running over, panting heavily, fine beads of sweat pouring down his face like rain.

Zhao Dehai reached Lin Ting, fanned himself with his horsetail whisk, and, catching his breath, said, "Lord Lin, His Majesty is suffering from a head ailment. Please come with this old servant to the imperial bedchamber at once."

Lin Ting was surprised. Ever since he had started accompanying Pei Xingjian daily, the emperor had been practically steeped in medicine—how long had it been since his last episode?

On the way to the bedchamber, he asked curiously, "What happened? Yesterday, His Majesty seemed perfectly fine."

Zhao Dehai sighed. "After returning yesterday, His Majesty was agitated all night. He got little sleep and rose before the second watch (around 9-11 PM) to review memorials. This old servant noticed his eyes were faintly bloodshot."

Lin Ting quickly said, "Why didn't you call for me?"

Pei Xingjian could outlast even him?

Zhao Dehai instantly gave him a knowing look.

Lin Ting: ??? What was there to know? He had no idea what was going on. Were they even living in the same story?

Seeing Lord Lin's bewildered expression, Zhao Dehai sighed with frustration. "Ah, Lord Lin, no wonder you are the most favored at court by His Majesty. Just as this old servant was about to fetch you, His Majesty stopped me. He couldn't bear to disturb your rest and endured until dawn."

Lin Ting was genuinely impressed. "Bearing what others cannot—no wonder he became emperor."

Zhao Dehai nearly stumbled. This Lord Lin was as dense as a block of wood.

Upon arriving at Xiangning Hall, Lin Ting instructed Zhao Dehai to wait outside and entered alone.

Pei Xingjian sat upright in a pearwood chair at the center, clutching a memorial, his eyes webbed with red veins.

"Ah!" Lin Ting was startled but quickly went over to massage him. During this time, he had specifically sought out a master masseur in the capital to learn a few techniques—now, his skills were highly confident.

Feeling the familiar warmth, Pei Xingjian's tense nerves finally relaxed. "If Minister Lin had come any later, I don’t know if I could have lasted another hour."

So even the master of endurance was nearing his limit.

Lin Ting pondered why Pei Xingjian's head ailment had flared up again and asked,

"Why did it suddenly return today? Was it because of those scholars yesterday—"

Pei Xingjian abruptly gripped his hand.

"Those scholars are steeped in literary theories, yet they are easily manipulated."

The sudden warmth of a hand covering his own, though the touch was light, made Lin Ting's heartbeat skip a beat.

He pursed his lips, assuming the Emperor was worried his massage technique wasn't good enough, and muttered under his breath, "Your Majesty need not hold my hand. I’ve recently learned from a massage master—my technique has definitely improved."

Pei Xingjian hesitated briefly, giving him a somewhat helpless glance before releasing his hand.

The fragrance slowly dispersed in the air, threading its way into their minds and soothing their nerves.

After the time it took for an incense stick to burn, his headache finally subsided.

Lin Ting withdrew his hands, and in the blink of an eye, he saw Pei Xingjian had already risen, preparing to leave. Startled, Lin Ting hurried after him.

Eunuch Zhao, standing guard at the door, immediately expressed concern upon seeing the Emperor emerge. "Your Majesty, please rest here for a while. You barely slept last night—even the hardiest man couldn’t endure this."

"Unnecessary," Pei Xingjian replied coolly, stepping past Eunuch Zhao to leave.

Eunuch Zhao anxiously shot Lin Ting a meaningful look.

Catching the hint, Lin Ting quickened his pace to catch up with Pei Xingjian, tugging at the hem of his robe.

When the Emperor turned, Lin Ting obediently advised, "I believe Eunuch Zhao is right."

Pei Xingjian halted, unmoving for a moment.

Seeing an opening, Eunuch Zhao seized the opportunity, "Your Majesty, staying up late harms the body. Your health has only just improved—don’t ruin it again."

Lin Ting nodded vigorously. Exactly! His plans for early retirement couldn’t be derailed halfway.

Pei Xingjian frowned briefly before relaxing. Their eyes met in a prolonged stare, and he finally sighed.

"Zhao Dehai, guard outside the hall." He turned back into the bedchamber, pausing briefly as he passed Lin Ting to pull him inside.

Lin Ting: ???

...

He was pulled into the chamber by Pei Xingjian. The large door shut, cutting off all outside noise.

Pei Xingjian led him to the central table, pointing at the paper and brushes laid out. "I’ll rest for a while. You practice some large-character calligraphy—I’ll check it when I wake."

Lin Ting froze on the spot, taking a long moment to realize what the man had said before nearly retorting—

*Are you serious?*

Clasping his hands, Lin Ting said, "The sound of my writing might be a bit loud. Perhaps it’s better to wait until Your Majesty wakes before I start."

In response, he was met with an enigmatic smile. "By the time I wake, Minister Lin will likely have vanished."

Lin Ting was left speechless. How did this man know he was always ready to bolt?

Pei Xingjian had already turned toward the bed. "No matter. The sound of your brushwork helps me sleep more soundly."

A herd of imaginary alpacas stampeded through Lin Ting’s mind. This wasn’t about calligraphy—it was to keep him from escaping.

...

The chamber was silent, the ethereal scent of agarwood drifting through the air. The Emperor lay flat against the soft pillows, breathing evenly and soundlessly. Yet, in the quiet space, the occasional *scratch* of a brush could be heard.

Lin Ting sat at the small square table, brush in hand, practicing his characters.

After a long while, a soft sigh escaped from within the room.

Lin Ting scribbled through several pages until his hand ached. Glancing up, he saw the Emperor sleeping soundly on the bed.

Frustrated, he tossed the brush aside, propping his chin on his hand as he idly glanced around.

His gaze eventually landed on the figure on the bed.

When Pei Xingjian slept, the tension between his brows had eased, lacking the sharpness of his waking hours. Moreover, ever since he had been brought back, Lin Ting had realized just how much of a workaholic Pei Xingjian was—unable to sleep? Review memorials. Agitated? Review memorials. Even while traveling? Review memorials. Who in all of Great Yong could outwork him?

Suddenly, the figure on the bed breathed heavier and opened his eyes.

Lin Ting immediately averted his gaze.

Pei Xingjian turned his head, spotting the scattered pages of calligraphy on the table. He sat up and extended a hand toward Lin Ting. "Bring them here."

Lin Ting was absolutely impressed. Even upon waking, the man remembered to check his handwriting. He deserved an award for Most Dedicated Workaholic.

He shoved the pages over unceremoniously. "All my work is here. Take your time reviewing. I’ll call for Eunuch Zhao."

Pei Xingjian caught the sarcastic tone but ignored it, continuing to examine the characters.

After quickly scanning the pages, palace attendants entered with basins and towels.

Pei Xingjian’s gaze immediately locked onto Lin Ting, who was trying to shrink into the background. "Minister Lin, come here."

Like a student called upon by a teacher, Lin Ting shuffled over reluctantly.

Pei Xingjian, torn between irritation and amusement, handed the pages back. "There’s some improvement."

Lin Ting’s heart leaped with joy. He accepted them eagerly—so his efforts had paid off after all!

After reviewing the calligraphy, Pei Xingjian returned to Chonghua Hall to process memorials. Lin Ting remained in the palace until his shift ended, then left with Qingzi.

Back at the Lin residence, Lin Ting washed up and turned in early.

In the middle of the night, he jolted awake from his dreams. After lying still for a while, unable to fall back asleep, he noticed the moonlight outside was particularly bright and got up, pulling on an outer robe.

He walked to the window and opened it, gazing outside when a dark figure suddenly flashed across the rooftop beams.

"Who’s there?" Startled, Lin Ting grabbed the paperweight from the table and hurled it.

*Thud—* The paperweight arced through the air before landing perfectly on the ground.

The shadow had vanished into the night in an instant.

Lin Ting frowned at the speed. "Could it be someone from the Tianxuan Guard?"

Shaking his head, he returned to bed.

In the dead of night, silence enveloped everything.

Lin Ting was sound asleep when he was jolted awake by shouts.

Disoriented, he heard voices outside: "Someone, come quick! There’s a fire!" "Hurry!"

Then came frantic knocking at his door.

"Lord Lin, it’s terrible—the storeroom is on fire!"

Lin Ting bolted upright, hastily throwing on his outer robe before yanking the door open. Servants in the courtyard were rushing toward the backyard with buckets of water.

In the distance, faint flames flickered from the direction of the storeroom.

"All my money—!"