After Being Reborn as the Chief Eunuch Chapter 24

Chapter 24

After nearly a month, Ji Qingzhou stepped into that room once again.

The suffocating musty smell inside was still as strong as ever, but now it was mixed with the heavy scent of medicine and a faint trace of blood.

“Tu Dayou, Ji Qingzhou…” Sitting beside the table in the corner was a junior medical officer from the Imperial Physician Courtyard. On the table before him sat a medicine bucket, from which he poured out two bowls of medicine and said to the two of them, “These are for you.”

Tu Dayou had drunk this medicine more times than he could count. He stepped forward, picked up a bowl, and drank it down in one go.

A clerk from the Ministry of Appointments watched him closely until he finished, then found Tu Dayou’s name in the register and marked it.

“Ji Qingzhou…” the junior medical officer called out again. “This one’s yours.”

Ji Qingzhou stood dazed, staring at the uncleaned bloodstains on the bed in the corner. In his mind, he kept seeing Xiao Shan’s face—so pale it looked devoid of blood. He still didn’t understand what exactly had happened to Xiao Shan, but an unexplainable sense of fear and unease gripped him.

“Ji Qingzhou?” The medical officer raised his voice, calling out to him again.

Ji Qingzhou snapped out of it, walked to the table, and reached for the bowl. As the pungent medicinal smell hit him, the nausea he had just barely suppressed surged back up. Unable to hold it in, he bent over and dry-heaved violently.

The clerk from the Ministry of Appointments beside him sighed impatiently. Tu Dayou cast the man a glance, then took the bowl from Ji Qingzhou’s hand with one hand and supported him with the other. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” Ji Qingzhou forced himself to stay conscious despite the dizziness. “Just need a moment to recover.”

Seeing this, Tu Dayou set the bowl down and helped him over to sit on a nearby bed.

The medical officer, seemingly used to scenes like this, didn’t look surprised and continued distributing medicine to the other eunuchs. Who knew how many bowls of this medicine he had handed out already, and of those, how many truly drank it willingly? Most, even if they knew they had to, still couldn’t help but feel resentful.

But in the end, no one could escape it. If nothing else, just look at the Ministry of Appointments clerks assigned to supervise the drinking—they were unyielding, and no one could slip past their watchful eyes.

Yinghui Pavilion.

Li Zhan sat at his desk, organizing documents. Qin Zheng lounged nearby, flipping through something.

“Of all the Six Ministries, I’m most familiar with the Ministry of War,” Qin Zheng began. “Forget about the ties they have with my father—just me walking in with this face, and someone’s bound to pay attention.”

Li Zhan replied, “Precisely because you’re familiar with them, there’s no need for you to get involved.”

“True, your reputation in the Ministry of War is bigger than mine anyway,” Qin Zheng said. “It’s just a shame… after all my calculations, do we seriously not know a single familiar face in the Ministry of Appointments?”

Li Zhan responded flatly, “The late emperor deliberately gave the Ministry of Appointments to my fourth brother, while entrusting the Ministry of War to me, exactly so we’d check and balance each other.”

“That’s just because you were too honest. Back when Prince Heng was still a child and couldn’t handle anything, I told you to use the opportunity to plant some people in the Ministry of Appointments, but you refused. Now look, it’s finally come back to bite us, hasn’t it?” Qin Zheng shook his head.

Seeing Li Zhan remain silent, Qin Zheng leaned in closer. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while. You never used to bother with all the messy affairs at court, and you wouldn’t even place people in the palace. So why the sudden change? What made you shift your thinking?”

Li Zhan glanced at him and asked, “What do you think?”

“You’re not… aiming for the throne, are you?” Qin Zheng lowered his voice conspiratorially.

Li Zhan’s expression didn’t change, but he let out a faint sigh.

The moment Qin Zheng said it, he realized he’d gone too far. Li Zhan was now the regent, second only to the emperor. What used to be harmless jokes now required a certain degree of caution.

Just then, a palace servant came to report that the young emperor had arrived.

Li Zhan instinctively looked toward the door and saw that entering with the emperor was the eunuch Tang Yi. Tang Yi carried a wooden cage filled with straw, and inside it, a small white rabbit was munching on grass.

“Imperial Uncle, come see my rabbit!” The young emperor rushed over, climbed onto Li Zhan’s lap, and ordered Tang Yi to place the cage on the desk. Tang Yi, seeing it was the regent’s personal desk, hesitated, feeling it inappropriate to set the cage down.

Li Zhan said, “If you keep swinging it around like that, you’ll kill it.”

“Ji Gonggong said the same thing,” the young emperor replied. “I just wanted to show it to you.”

Li Zhan looked at the rabbit for a moment, then lightly coughed and asked, “You didn’t go to your palace studies today?”

“I did go,” said the young emperor. “I just got back. The tutor even praised me today.”

Li Zhan opened his mouth as if to ask something, but held back.

Qin Zheng, noticing, asked instead, “Where’s Ji Qingzhou? Why isn’t he here attending to you?”

“Replying to Young Master Qin, Ji Gonggong went to Yan Court today to collect medicine,” Tang Yi answered.

Li Zhan frowned slightly upon hearing this and asked, “What medicine?”

“Oh… it’s the medicine that eunuchs have to drink every four months,” Tang Yi replied.

Everyone was aware of the rule that eunuchs from the Inner Attendant Department had to regularly take medicine, but people like Li Zhan and Qin Zheng, due to their elevated status, rarely had any reason to get involved. As such, they had never paid it much attention. Only now, prompted by Tang Yi, did they suddenly realize what was going on.

“Didn’t he just enter the palace last month?” Li Zhan asked.

“Yes… but his name was still on the list issued by the Ministry of Appointments,” Tang Yi said. “This is an old rule. All newly-entered eunuchs are subject to it. Everyone who joined in March is on the list this time as well.”

Li Zhan unconsciously rubbed his fingers along the edge of the table. A flicker of coldness passed through his eyes.

Just from those few words of Tang Yi’s, he had already guessed the trick behind it.

The Ministry of Appointments must have lumped all the new eunuchs together out of laziness, disregarding their physical condition entirely. Though he didn’t know all the details, he’d heard that the medicine was extremely potent—especially harsh on those who took it for the first time. Their health would deteriorate rapidly in a short span.

And now, the Ministry was forcing these eunuchs to take a second dose in just a few weeks.

It was truly… a complete disregard for human life.

Yan Court.

Ji Qingzhou had sat on the bed for a while, trying to recover, but the air was thick with the nauseating stench of medicine and blood. Instead of improving, his complexion had only grown worse.

Worried about Ji Qingzhou’s condition, Tu Dayou tried to negotiate again with the Ministry official, hoping to let Ji Qingzhou take the medicine on another day. But the official assumed he was trying to help him cheat and responded with extreme hostility, his tone crass and offensive.

“What business is it of yours whether he drinks it or not? You’ve taken your medicine and had your name recorded—now get out and wait outside. Stop clinging on here,” the official said.

“I’m speaking to you respectfully,” Tu Dayou replied. “My junior’s not well. If he drinks this today and something happens, will you take responsibility? Besides, he already took it just a month ago—you only need to check the records to confirm.”

The official didn’t want to argue and reached out, trying to shove Tu Dayou out.

Tu Dayou shook off his hand and snapped, “We’re all doing the Emperor’s work. Don’t get too arrogant!”

“Tu Gonggong, I know you’re favored by Chief Steward Yao, but don’t think you can use the Emperor to pressure me,” the official retorted. “I’m just doing my job today—it’s not for my own benefit. If you keep interfering, don’t blame me for reporting you for obstructing official duties!”

Ji Qingzhou, struggling to suppress his dizziness, stepped forward and grabbed Tu Dayou’s arm. He spoke up: “It’s fine. I’ll drink it now.”

The guards nearby didn’t want the situation to escalate further and quickly stepped in to smooth things over. At last, the official’s tone softened slightly.

“Here, your medicine,” said the medical officer, bringing the bowl over himself, thinking it best to get it over with quickly and be done with the mess.

Ji Qingzhou raised the bowl and drank. But the bitter taste was overwhelming. After just two sips, his stomach churned violently. He lost control and vomited, the bowl slipping from his hands—still half full—and crashing to the ground.

“Qingzhou…” Tu Dayou looked on in alarm, gently patting Ji Qingzhou’s back to soothe him.

The official, however, sneered sarcastically. “Of course—raised like some pampered little young master. Such a fuss over a bowl of medicine. What’s next? Should we go find you a wet nurse to feed it to you?”

His words were a gross insult and mockery to Ji Qingzhou.

Tu Dayou’s temper flared instantly, and he nearly struck the man.

But Ji Qingzhou quickly grabbed him and held him back. He then raised his eyes to look directly at the foul-mouthed official.

The man’s face was full of disdain—at first. But the moment he met Ji Qingzhou’s gaze, he paused.

The youth had delicate, refined features, and normally, there was a soft and gentle air about him that made him approachable. But now, his reddened eyes from vomiting, paired with his pale face, gave him a sharp and imposing look.

“You…” The official, for some reason, felt a flicker of guilt. He averted his eyes slightly and muttered, “What are you staring at me for? I didn’t make the rules. It’s been this way since the ancestors’ time!”

Mentioning the ancestors seemed to give him back some confidence.

“Heh…” Ji Qingzhou let out a cold laugh and looked at him again—his gaze even sharper now, full of cold pressure. “Since you’re so eager to talk about ancestral rules, then let’s have a proper discussion about them, shall we?”

Everyone turned to look at Ji Qingzhou. Except for the official, the rest wore expressions of amusement, clearly eager to see what kind of spectacle this young noble was about to put on.

“Why don’t you tell me,” Ji Qingzhou asked, “how exactly was this rule established?”

“All eunuchs in the palace must report to Yan Court every four months to collect medicine,” the official replied. “It’s a rule everyone knows.”

Ji Qingzhou let out a faint laugh. Using Tu Dayou’s arm for support, he spoke slowly and deliberately, “Then please do me a favor—check and see: has it been four months since I last took the medicine?”

“You…” The official immediately realized he’d fallen into the youth’s trap. The Ministry of Appointments had altered the list out of convenience, and under normal circumstances, there wouldn’t have been any problems. After all, the only ones likely to be affected were newly-entered eunuchs—people with no status or backing, who wouldn’t dare raise a fuss.

But Ji Qingzhou was different. He might not have an official rank yet, but he wore a blue robe.

And Ji Qingzhou had pinpointed the core issue with striking precision, leaving the official completely at a loss for words.

“This has always been the rule. If others can handle it, why can’t you?” the official argued stiffly. “You’re all people who’ve been castrated anyway. What difference does one more dose make?”

Ji Qingzhou took a deep breath, forcing down the tightness in his chest, and said coldly, “One more dose may not make much difference… but you were the one who brought up the rules. If the Ministry of Appointments can cite rules, why can’t the Inner Attendant Department?”

The surrounding eunuchs, who had already been enraged by the official’s earlier “castrated and childless” remark, instantly felt a shared sense of outrage. Upon hearing Ji Qingzhou’s words, they all voiced their agreement in unison.

The official’s face turned incredibly sour. Humiliated and furious, he snapped, “In the end, this is just about you not wanting to drink the medicine. What, are you like that dog who just brought shame to the palace earlier—pregnant with some wild man’s bastard and scared to take it?!”

Ji Qingzhou had been holding back his emotions all this time, but now the official had crossed the line. Not only was he slandering him, but he had also dragged Xiao Shan’s name through the mud. His fury surged up uncontrollably. He raised his fist, ready to punch the man.

But his strength had long since drained away. Before his hand could strike, someone caught his arm.

“Young Master Ji sure has a temper,” a voice said with a teasing lilt.

Ji Qingzhou turned to look and saw Qin Zheng winking at him with a smile.

“I’m taking him with me. Everyone else, disperse.” Qin Zheng grabbed Ji Qingzhou and began walking out without the slightest regard for the Ministry personnel.

The official, already furious from Ji Qingzhou’s defiance, now saw Qin Zheng trying to take someone away without explanation. He immediately stepped forward to block them and demanded, “And who might you be, barging in to interfere with the Ministry’s duties?”

“I really can’t stand you bureaucrats with your constant talk of ‘official business’—acting like no one else is in government,” Qin Zheng said coldly. “You want to talk rules? Fine. Let me show you what real rules look like.”

He pulled a document from his sleeve and flashed it before the official. “You, a mere eighth-rank official of the Ministry of Appointments, dared to slander a sixth-rank chief eunuch of the Inner Attendant Department? That’s insubordination. According to protocol, you should be caned twenty times in court!”

The official froze as his eyes fell on the seal on the document—it bore Li Zhan’s personal stamp. It was a handwritten decree, issued on the spot.

The decree stated: Ji Qingzhou is hereby appointed as the Chief Eunuch of Yinghui Pavilion, sixth rank…

“Well, well, a sixth-rank chief eunuch,” Tu Dayou said with exaggerated solemnity to the official. “That makes Ji Gonggong two and a half ranks above you.”

The official’s face turned as pale as death.

Then Qin Zheng added coolly, “As for your Ministry’s negligence in altering the medicine collection schedule—well, that’s none of my concern. Your superiors will deal with you for that.”

Having said his piece, Qin Zheng didn’t bother with the man anymore. He gave Ji Qingzhou a meaningful glance and led him out.

Ji Qingzhou leaned on Tu Dayou’s support as they left the building. Finally, he breathed in fresh air, and the tightness in his chest eased a little—though his face still looked ghostly pale.

The three of them exited Yan Court together. Along the way, many of the eunuchs who had watched the drama unfold now looked at Ji Qingzhou with new eyes—most of them with admiration. After all, they had long been oppressed by the Ministry’s arrogance and were full of resentment. This was the first time someone had dared to stand up for them and push back.

Even though none of them could escape taking the medicine, just watching a Ministry man suffer a loss felt like sweet relief.

“Your face looks awful. Did you already drink some of the medicine?” Qin Zheng asked, glancing at Ji Qingzhou.

“I only managed two sips—most of it came back up,” Ji Qingzhou replied. “Still… thank you for stepping in today.”

Qin Zheng quickly said, “Oh no, don’t thank the wrong person. That decree was handwritten by Wang Ye himself. The words I spoke—he told me to say them. I’m just the delivery guy.”

Ji Qingzhou blinked, genuinely surprised.

He hadn’t expected the Regent to care about such a trivial matter—let alone send someone to intervene on his behalf.

“Wang Ye said your health was already fragile, and he was worried that taking another dose of that medicine would harm your body even more, making it impossible to recover later,” Qin Zheng said. “But I only realized today how hard you are to deal with. Even if I hadn’t come, just by yourself, you could’ve thrown the whole place into chaos. I actually saved myself a lot of trouble.”

“It was nothing more than a few sharp words,” Ji Qingzhou replied.

“Is your body alright?” Qin Zheng asked.

“It’s nothing… probably just… the medicine smell got to me,” Ji Qingzhou said, taking a breath and pausing in his steps. Suddenly, he bowed deeply to Qin Zheng and said, “It’s already improper of me to trouble Young Master Qin like this today, but I still have one more thing… I’d like to ask your help with.”

Qin Zheng chuckled lightly and said, “Alright… but this favor, I wouldn’t dare take credit for. Just add it to Wang Ye’s tab.”

Ji Qingzhou finally let out a breath of relief. He knew that meant Qin Zheng had agreed to help.

Yinghui Pavilion.

Qin Zheng animatedly recounted to Li Zhan the entire scene he had witnessed at Yan Court, emphasizing how that Young Master Ji had provoked the supervisor into a furious rage. “You should’ve seen it—he looks so delicate and gentle, but where does all that presence come from? It’s a pity you weren’t there. That supervisor’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot!”

“That does sound like something he would do,” Li Zhan said with a barely perceptible upward curve of his lips.

“Now I finally understand why you took a liking to him,” Qin Zheng continued. “And it’s not just that pretty face—if you put him on the court one day to spar with those righteous officials, I reckon it’d be a spectacular scene.”

“When did I ever say I took a liking to him?” Li Zhan asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

“If you didn’t, why go through all that trouble writing a personal decree just to have me bail him out?” Qin Zheng said. “And now we’ve offended the Ministry of Appointments once again.”

But Li Zhan didn’t care—after all, he and his fourth brother, Prince Heng, were never close. The Ministry of Appointments was under his brother’s control, and no matter what happened, they’d never stand on the same side as Li Zhan. So whether he offended them or not didn’t concern him in the slightest.

“Oh right, there’s one more thing,” Qin Zheng added. “Young Master Ji asked me a favor, and I didn’t have the heart to refuse, so I agreed on my own.”

Li Zhan’s brows furrowed slightly at that. A hint of curiosity appeared on his face, as if he were eager to know what could be so important for the youth to ask of him directly.

Office of Judicial Review Prison.

Ji Qingzhou and Tu Dayou followed a guard through a dark, damp corridor and were finally led into a temporarily used room. The room had only a small window, and because it hadn’t seen sunlight for years, it was filled with a suffocating mustiness, mixed faintly with the smell of blood.

The stench reminded Ji Qingzhou of Yan Court they had just left. His stomach churned, and he had to forcibly suppress the nausea.

“Xiao Shan?” As the two approached a corner of the room, they saw a curled-up figure lying on a frayed straw mat.

Ji Qingzhou reached out and pressed a hand to Xiao Shan’s neck. He felt a faint warmth and pulse, and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Hearing voices, Xiao Shan turned his head with difficulty to look at them. Ji Qingzhou froze—Xiao Shan’s face was even paler than when he had been carried out earlier. The hair on his forehead was soaked with cold sweat, sticking messily to his skin, making his face look completely bloodless.

“You… why are you here?” Xiao Shan asked weakly.

“Qingzhou asked Young Master Qin… He arranged for us to come in. We can’t stay long, just for a short while,” Tu Dayou knelt beside him and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Are you still in pain?”

Xiao Shan looked disoriented, probably from excessive blood loss. He seemed like he might faint at any moment, but he still forced himself to stay conscious and said to Tu Dayou, “I’m fine… you should leave now, don’t… don’t get dragged down by me.”

“What are you saying?” Tu Dayou replied. “You’re in this state, and you’re still worried about dragging us down?”

Xiao Shan managed a weak smile, then closed his eyes and rested for a while, clearly exhausted.

Ji Qingzhou’s eyes fell on the bloodstains on Xiao Shan’s robes, and he murmured, “He needs a doctor.”

“I know,” Tu Dayou said. “But…”

But even this visit had only been possible because of Qin Zheng’s help. Asking for a doctor to treat Xiao Shan was out of the question. This was the Office of Judicial Review, which had nothing to do with the Inner Attendant Department. They might not even get another chance to see Xiao Shan again, let alone find someone to treat him.

“Xiao Shan, exactly what happened…” Ji Qingzhou began to ask.

Tu Dayou cut him off with a glance—clearly signaling not to bring it up in front of Xiao Shan.

Ji Qingzhou understood and removed his outer robe, gently draping it over Xiao Shan. The boy was shivering from blood loss, but once he felt a bit of warmth, he opened his eyes again and gave Ji Qingzhou a grateful look.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. Ji Qingzhou and Tu Dayou sighed—they guessed it was probably the guards coming to chase them out.

But just as they stood up, they saw Qin Zheng walk in—with an imperial physician following behind him.

“Young Master Qin…” Ji Qingzhou’s eyes lit up with uncontained joy at the sight of the doctor.

Qin Zheng came to his side and whispered into his ear, “Wang Ye was right.”

“What?” Ji Qingzhou asked instinctively, not quite hearing him.

Qin Zheng leaned in again and said softly, “I’m just the errand boy, same as always. Don’t bother owing me anything—put it on Wang Ye’s tab.”

Ji Qingzhou was briefly stunned but didn’t press further.

The imperial physician walked over to Xiao Shan and pressed a hand to his forehead, then pulled out a pulse pillow and took his wrist. After a while, he summoned a junior medical officer and turned to the others, saying, “Would you all please step outside for a moment?”

Everyone obeyed and left the room to wait outside.

“Brother Dayou,” Ji Qingzhou said, remembering Tu Dayou’s expression when he’d asked about Xiao Shan’s condition earlier, “do you know what illness Xiao Shan has?”

Tu Dayou instinctively glanced at Qin Zheng. Seeing that the latter seemed unconcerned, he knew there was no need to hide it from Ji Qingzhou anymore.

“He took that medicine… and because the effects were too strong… he miscarried,” 

“…What do you mean?” Ji Qingzhou looked completely confused.

“You don’t know what a miscarriage is?” Qin Zheng jumped in to explain. “It’s when someone is pregnant, but the child dies in the womb. That’s called a miscarriage.”

Ji Qingzhou: …

Of course he knew what a miscarriage was. But…

But Xiao Shan was a man!

How could a man possibly be pregnant?

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