Chapter 23
Ever since Ji Qingzhou arrived in this world, he had never seen the young emperor throw a tantrum.
Li Cong, though pampered and raised in luxury, had no real bad habits. He was good-tempered and adorably cute—it was hard for anyone not to like him. But it wasn’t until today, over a rabbit that had been stewed, that Ji Qingzhou finally witnessed another side of the young emperor.
The little fellow wasn’t very big, but his crying was loud and forceful. When he cried, he stretched his neck and didn’t even pause to breathe for a long time. Ji Qingzhou stood anxiously by, terrified that the child might hold his breath too long and end up hurting himself.
“I’ll go catch another one for you, alright?” Qin Zheng knelt on one knee beside the boy, coaxing him gently. “Or ten? I’ll catch every rabbit in that forest just for you.”
But the young emperor was fully immersed in his grief and ignored him completely.
Ji Qingzhou, having no experience in comforting children, could only stand helplessly by.
Li Zhan, on the other hand, calmly waited for a while. When he judged the timing to be right, he finally opened his mouth and said, “Stop.”
As soon as he spoke, the young emperor’s wails abruptly ceased. Then he let out a pitiful hiccup.
Ji Qingzhou looked at Li Zhan in disbelief—he hadn’t expected the Regent to be so capable.
“You’ve already eaten it. What good is crying now?” Li Zhan said plainly.
“Hic…” The young emperor hiccupped again. Though he had stopped crying, his tears still streamed down his cheeks.
Ji Qingzhou felt a pang of sympathy. He gently patted the young emperor’s back. The boy leaned against his shoulder, finally quieting down, though he still sobbed now and then—clearly still heartbroken.
On the way back to the palace, the young emperor remained glum. This was the first time in his life something like this had happened. He had finally gotten a pet, barely had time to warm it up in his hands, and then ended up eating it…
Ji Qingzhou felt that the whole thing had been rather cruel to the little one and worried it might leave a psychological scar. So after they returned to the palace, he sought out Tu Dayou for help and asked him to see if he could find another rabbit for the young emperor.
Within a few days, there was news—Tu Dayou had really found one.
“You probably haven’t been to this place before,” Tu Dayou said as he led Ji Qingzhou through a small side gate in the north of the palace. They walked along the palace wall for a bit before turning into a courtyard. “To the west, they raise horses. I’ll bring you there sometime.”
As soon as they entered the courtyard, an inner attendant came out to greet them. Ji Qingzhou recognized him as Xiao Shan from the imperial kitchen. He seemed to have a good relationship with Tu Dayou and often sneaked food and drink their way.
“Most of the live animals we use in the kitchen are raised at estates outside the capital,” Xiao Shan explained as he led them into a shed. “Space inside the palace is tight—we don’t have room for this kind of thing. These few litters of rabbits are just a coincidence. The kitchen’s preparing a new dish: roasted suckling rabbit. They didn’t want to risk transporting them from far away, so we’re raising some nearby as a trial.”
Hearing this, Ji Qingzhou raised an eyebrow. He thought to himself, if the young emperor ever saw a roasted suckling rabbit, he might just faint from rage.
“You’re the one raising them?” Ji Qingzhou asked.
“No, I just like rabbits. I come by to take a look when I’ve got nothing else to do,” Xiaoshan hurriedly explained. “I only showed up early today because I heard you and Brother Dayou were coming. Figured you might have trouble finding someone, so I came to wait.”
Ji Qingzhou bent down to look at the litter of white rabbits that weren’t even a month old yet. He reached out and gently touched one.
Tu Dayou wasn’t interested in rabbits, so he casually asked Xiao Shan, “Where is everyone today? Haven’t seen a single soul.”
“You forgot? It’s time for the quarterly medicine again. Today happens to be their turn to go.” Xiao Shan replied.
Tu Dayou suddenly understood, sighed, and asked, “Why didn’t you go?”
“My turn’s the day after tomorrow. Should be the same day as yours. I checked the inner court’s paperwork—those of us in the imperial kitchen and the ones serving up front all go then,” Xiao Shan said, then turned to Ji Qingzhou. “I’m familiar with raising rabbits. If you need help later, feel free to ask me.”
Ji Qingzhou nodded repeatedly, then picked one of the baby rabbits and carried it away.
Before leaving, he hesitated for a moment and reminded Xiao Shanto have the kitchen reconsider the roasted suckling rabbit dish—just in case it made the young emperor unhappy.
Once they were out, Ji Qingzhou asked Tu Dayou, “That medicine he mentioned… what kind is it?”
“The one you drank before entering the palace,” Tu Dayou replied. “One dose lasts half a year. Just to be safe, we take it every four months—three times a year. January, May, and September, everyone has to go collect their share.”
As he spoke, he sighed again, clearly numb to the whole process by now.
Ji Qingzhou recalled the last time he drank that medicine and felt a wave of discomfort. Ever since then, there hadn’t been so much as a flicker of the response he was supposed to occasionally have. Even though he didn’t need it at the moment, as a man, he couldn’t help but feel a bit dejected.
“Do we all have to take it? Even Master too?” Ji Qingzhou asked.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tu Dayou replied. “If the Inner Attendant Department were in charge of administering the medicine, it would be easy enough to tamper with it. But this matter is overseen by a separate group from the Ministry of Appointments, precisely to prevent the Inner Attendant Department’s servants from doing anything shady.”
Ji Qingzhou thought that made sense. Since the medicine was used to control the bodies of the inner servants, it was essential to ensure every one of them actually drank it. Otherwise, the whole system would be pointless.
“Qingzhou… have you never thought about leaving the palace?” Tu Dayou suddenly asked.
“Haven’t you?” Ji Qingzhou said with a bitter smile as he held the rabbit in his arms. “If we could live as proper men outside, who would ever choose to come in here…”
Tu Dayou turned to look at him and asked, “You… seem to be getting quite close to the Wang Ye lately.”
“I’m His Majesty’s attendant. Even if I wanted to avoid him, I couldn’t,” Ji Qingzhou replied. But something in Tu Dayou’s words struck a chord—an elusive thread of thought he couldn’t quite untangle. So he asked, “Are you trying to tell me something?”
Tu Dayou stared at him for a moment. Finally, he reached out to stroke the rabbit in Ji Qingzhou’s arms and shook his head. “Another time. It’s not the right moment yet.”
Ji Qingzhou didn’t press him further, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Tu Dayou’s gaze carried some deeper meaning.
When the young emperor saw the rabbit Ji Qingzhou had brought, he didn’t seem particularly excited.
“Why is it white?” the young emperor asked.
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t white pretty? Look at its red eyes—so cute.”
“It is pretty,” the young emperor said, “It’s just… I thought it would be gray.”
Ji Qingzhou froze, and for some reason, an inexplicable sense of sadness welled up in his heart. The young emperor was still so little and didn’t yet know how to express disappointment or regret, but at that moment, Ji Qingzhou clearly felt the boy’s sorrow.
The little one still seemed upset…
Even though he was the most privileged person in the entire Dayu Empire, he couldn’t escape the heartache over a rabbit. Human emotions, at times, could resonate across identities. Though most of the time… they didn’t.
“It’s okay. If you don’t like it, we can return it,” Ji Qingzhou said. “It was originally raised by the Imperial Kitchen anyway…”
“Let’s keep it,” the young emperor said. “It looks nice… It’s white, just like you.”
Ji Qingzhou: …
From a distant covered walkway, Li Zhan silently watched the scene, seemingly lost in thought.
Qin Zheng walked over holding a stack of documents. Following Li Zhan’s gaze, he clicked his tongue and said,
“When it comes to coaxing kids, Young Master Ji really has a gift. It’s not easy for our little emperor either. The late emperor passed away early, the empress dowager prays and fasts all day behind closed doors, and you—his imperial uncle—always have a stern face…”
Li Zhan withdrew his gaze and said coldly, “Get back to your work.”
“I was born to be overworked,” Qin Zheng sighed. “Just got into the palace and already working myself to the bone for you… Want me to summon Young Master Ji later? With all the people serving at Yinghui Pavilion, it wouldn’t hurt to add one more.”
At that, Li Zhan frowned slightly but said nothing. Ever since returning from the estate, he had moved from the Imperial Library to work at Yinghui Pavilion, where plenty of inner servants had already been assigned. Ji Qingzhou, however, continued to serve by the young emperor’s side, which meant the two of them saw each other even less now than before.
“You don’t… distrust him, do you?” Qin Zheng asked.
After entering the palace, Qin Zheng had already looked into the backgrounds of everyone working at Yinghui Pavilion and discovered that all the servants Li Zhan had picked had clean records, with almost no ties to the former court or the inner palace factions. Though he didn’t know how Li Zhan had managed to screen them so thoroughly, he knew that anyone who could serve in Yinghui Pavilion must be someone Li Zhan trusted.
“What do you think?” Li Zhan replied, tossing the question back to him instead of answering.
“I don’t understand you,” Qin Zheng sighed. “But since I’m in the palace now, if you’re really not interested, I might make a move. Once I get settled in at the Ministry of Appointments, I’ll find a way to get his servant status revoked and take him out of the palace…”
Li Zhan shot him a cold glance and didn’t respond.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Qin Zheng said. “Sure, I used to like girls, but once someone reaches a certain level of beauty, gender stops mattering. If someone looks like Young Master Ji, I wouldn’t mind that he’s a man… Ah!”
Before he could finish his sentence, he slipped on the steps under the corridor and sent the stack of documents flying.
Li Zhan raised an eyebrow and glanced at him, but didn’t stop walking. Qin Zheng scrambled to pick up the mess and shouted, “Wait for me! Did you just trip me on purpose?!”
But Li Zhan didn’t even acknowledge him, leaving behind only his retreating figure.
The next morning, Ji Qingzhou and Tu Dayou both received notice from the Inner Attendant Department, summoning them to Yan Court to collect their medicine.
“I just took mine last month. Do I still need to go?” Ji Qingzhou asked.
“That I don’t know,” the young eunuch delivering the message said. “The list came from the Ministry of Appointments. But even the batch of inner servants who just entered the palace this March are on the list—it looks like they’ve all been included.”
Ji Qingzhou nodded. He figured the Ministry people had just taken the easy route and lumped all the newly admitted servants into one list with the rest. It made their recordkeeping simpler, but the downside was that people like him had to take the medicine again unnecessarily.
That medicine was no good. Ji Qingzhou loathed taking it from the bottom of his heart, but he had no choice.
Even someone like Yao Chang’an couldn’t avoid it, let alone him.
“Don’t worry,” Tu Dayou said reassuringly. “You took it last time, and nothing happened, right?”
But then he remembered—last time Ji Qingzhou nearly died after taking the medicine…
“No, once we get there, I’ll tell the people in charge of the court affairs. Maybe they’ll cut me some slack,” Tu Dayou said.
Ji Qingzhou nodded, though his heart was heavy with unease.
He had originally come from the story’s timeline after Ji Qingzhou drank the medicine. He always felt that since this medicine was the trigger for his crossing over, it must be extremely dangerous. After all, in all the films and dramas he’d seen, people usually only crossed worlds at the brink of life and death… What if after taking this medicine he crossed back again?
But in the other world, he was already completely dead. Leaving here would just mean death, wouldn’t it?
Lost in chaotic thoughts, Ji Qingzhou followed Tu Dayou to Yan Court. Many eunuchs serving before the throne had gathered, and they lined up in the narrow, shadowy alley of Yanting.
“Brother Dayou, Qingzhou,” a voice called from the front of the line. Ji Qingzhou looked up to see Xiao Shan. Xiao Shan had switched places with someone behind and now stood in front of Ji Qingzhou, smiling at them. “Today the kitchen’s got sweet and sour fish. I saved one for you—will bring it over at lunch.”
Tu Dayou laughed, “You little rascal used to only cater to my tastes, now you’re all about currying favor with Qingzhou.”
“Heh heh.” Xiao Shan grinned, “Didn’t you say Qingzhou was locked up before… ahem, that he was weakened and needs good nourishment now?”
Xiao Shan was only nineteen but had entered the palace early, so his body hadn’t fully grown, standing half a head shorter than Ji Qingzhou. Yet his features were handsome and neat, and when he smiled, his two little tiger teeth showed, making him especially endearing. Ji Qingzhou had always liked him.
As they spoke, a young eunuch who had just taken the medicine came out wiping tears, drawing laughter from those nearby.
No surprise, the sobbing one was a new eunuch, and the laughter came from those seasoned old hands long numb to the pain, who turned that numbness into mocking of the newcomer.
“Some have been here years and still can’t let go,” Tu Dayou sighed, “They know their bodies are already damaged, that they won’t get to marry or have kids like others, but still can’t help holding onto fantasies.”
Hearing this, Ji Qingzhou sighed and looked up at the dim sky, feeling as if all the light in Yan Court had been stolen. The longer he stayed, the colder he felt all over.
“Why is this place called Yan Court?” Ji Qingzhou asked.
“Have you heard people in the common folk call those things ‘birds’?” Tu Dayou said. “This place used to be called Que Court—‘Sparrow Court.’ Later, someone must’ve thought that sounded improper, so they changed it to Yan Court—‘Wild Goose Court.’”
Ji Qingzhou frowned, feeling a sudden wave of nausea for no reason.
Giving a place where eunuchs lived such a name was like constantly poking at their wounds.
Standing in the dark alley of Yan Court, watching eunuchs coming and going one by one, Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but wonder: would his future always drag on like this? Spend his entire life a eunuch in the palace?
But aside from this path, he saw no other direction.
“I’ll go in first.” Xiao Shan smiled at them, then followed the people ahead into the medicine distribution room.
Because there were only a few beds inside, the eunuchs were admitted in shifts. After drinking the medicine, they would sit or lie down for a while. If they felt fine, they came out to register and then left.
Tu Dayou still remembered Ji Qingzhou’s incident and approached the person in charge at the Ministry of Appointments to say a few words, but the official only worked there by the book. Though polite, he wasn’t going to make any exceptions.
“Forget it,” Ji Qingzhou said.
What’s meant to happen will happen; what can’t be avoided won’t be avoided…
They waited a while but saw no one come out of the room. Then suddenly, there was a commotion inside, and the guard at the door was called in. Everyone turned to look, wanting to see what was going on.
For some reason, Ji Qingzhou felt his chest tighten with a terrible premonition.
After a moment, the guard carried someone out. The person’s face was pale and eyes tightly shut. It was Xiao Shan.
“What happened…?” Ji Qingzhou and Tu Dayou stepped forward together.
The guard carrying him didn’t intend to stop. Ji Qingzhou hurriedly reached out to hold Xiao Shan’s limp hand. But when his hand touched the wooden board beneath Xiao Shan, he felt a sticky texture. Looking down, he froze.
Tu Dayou tried to follow inside but was stopped by the Ministry official. He could only give up.
“There’s bleeding…” someone whispered.
“How could that happen on a perfectly healthy person?”
“Could it be…”
“There was something like this last year too, said it lasted for months and no one knew. After taking the medicine…”
The speaker lowered his voice. Ji Qingzhou couldn’t catch all the words, but he distinctly heard the phrase “miscarriage.” When the words fell, the people around made a series of meaningful “tsk-tsk” sounds.
“Qingzhou? Are you alright?” Tu Dayou supported Ji Qingzhou’s arm, worry on his face.
Ji Qingzhou stared blankly at the blood on his fingers.
The suffocating pressure in his chest grew stronger, and finally he bent over, dry heaving.
“The next group, come in,” the guard at the door said.
“Qingzhou, it’s our turn. Are you okay?” Tu Dayou asked anxiously.
Ji Qingzhou shook his head, forcing down the discomfort in his chest, glanced back once at Xiao Shan disappearing into the depths of Yan Court’s alley, then walked toward the medicine room with Tu Dayou.
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