Chapter 32
This was the first time in Ji Qingzhou’s life that he had ever “admired” someone’s… from such an alarming angle.
And it was far too close for comfort—so much so that he was completely stunned, frozen in place and unable to react for quite a while.
It wasn’t until a cool, indifferent voice sounded from above his head, asking, “Have you seen enough?” that Ji Qingzhou snapped out of it.
His face flushed a deep red in an instant. He hurriedly pulled back his shocked gaze, stood up, and stepped back two paces.
The atmosphere was painfully awkward.
Li Zhan, however, remained unfazed. His expression was calm and composed. He casually took the cloth Ji Qingzhou had been holding and wrapped it around his waist, then turned away from the pool without so much as a ripple in his demeanor.
After such an unexpected moment, Ji Qingzhou had forgotten most of what Li Zhan had said earlier. All the doubts and confusion he’d had were now in complete disarray, leaving only a mess of tangled thoughts swirling around in his head.
Li Zhan dried off and changed into fresh clothes by himself this time, not asking Ji Qingzhou for help again. Ji Qingzhou also had no face left to offer assistance. He simply stood off to the side in a properly disciplined posture, too embarrassed to make a sound.
When the two of them returned to the front courtyard, Qin Zheng was grinning playfully as he chatted with a young inner attendant, clearly telling jokes.
The moment Qin Zheng laid eyes on Ji Qingzhou, he keenly noticed that the flush on the youth’s face hadn’t entirely faded. He immediately sidled up, threw an arm over Ji Qingzhou’s shoulder, and teased, “That quick, huh? You two already…”
Ji Qingzhou dodged away from Qin Zheng and followed behind Li Zhan, but Qin Zheng wasn’t about to let this teasing opportunity go.
“Wang Ye always takes a short nap after his bath. Did you go along to keep serving him afterward?” Qin Zheng joked.
Ji Qingzhou came to a halt, looking completely mortified.
“Come on, tell your big brother—just how far did the two of you go?” Qin Zheng asked with a face full of curiosity.
“What do you mean ‘how far’? We didn’t do anything,” Ji Qingzhou replied helplessly.
“I know you’re shy. I’ll just ask Wang Ye later.” Qin Zheng smirked.
“Don’t go around asking things like that. It’s*really embarrassing, okay?” Ji Qingzhou said, nearly on the verge of breaking down.
Qin Zheng was always making these greasy, over-the-top jokes. Ji Qingzhou had never taken them seriously—he knew this was just Qin Zheng’s personality, more talk than anything harmful.
But sometimes, even if the speaker meant nothing by it, the listener could still take it to heart.
After hearing it so often, Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but start feeling oddly guilty about it all.
Especially after today’s mortifying episode… the awkwardness only grew heavier.
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing.” Qin Zheng finally backed off a little, though his hand was still resting on Ji Qingzhou’s shoulder. “Let’s talk about something real. You’ve always understood Wang Ye pretty well, haven’t you? Let me ask you something…”
Ji Qingzhou looked at him warily and said, “When did I ever say I understood Wang Ye?”
“That’s not the point,” Qin Zheng said. “Wang Ye is already twenty-two this year. Do you know why he still hasn’t gotten married?”
Ji Qingzhou was briefly stunned. Then he replied, “You’re the same age as Wang Ye, aren’t you? And you haven’t married either.”
“I’m a shameless flirt. No woman can handle me. I don’t want to ruin some respectable family’s daughter. Wang Ye’s nothing like me,” Qin Zheng replied.
Ji Qingzhou thought about it and realized it was true. The Regent was elegant, dignified, and held immense power. Countless noble families in the capital were eager to marry their daughters into his household. Yet over all these years, the Regent hadn’t made a single move. Most noble sons in the capital married by sixteen or seventeen. By that standard, Li Zhan’s age was already considered quite late.
Ji Qingzhou recalled that in the original book, the Regent never married—not even by the end.
But why was that? What was his reason for remaining single?
He thought hard but couldn’t remember. It was probably written in the book, but when Ji Qingzhou read it, he had no patience. He’d skimmed through at lightning speed, only focusing on the parts related to himself. Everything else he’d glossed over. Because of that, he had missed out on a lot of useful details.
Ever since he transmigrated, Ji Qingzhou had regretted that more times than he could count. If only he could read the book again—he’d definitely memorize the entire thing, word for word.
“I never asked you—do you like men or women more?” Qin Zheng suddenly asked.
“Young Master Qin, I’m a eunuch,” Ji Qingzhou said with a weary expression, reminding him.
“So what if you are? Eunuchs are still people. Eunuchs still have feelings and desires!” Qin Zheng retorted.
“Eunuchs with feelings and desires are executed,” Ji Qingzhou said sternly. “Young Master Qin, please don’t get me into trouble.”
Qin Zheng let out a small laugh. “That depends on who you desire. If it’s you, then…”
“Young Master Qin!” Ji Qingzhou interrupted, frowning. “Please don’t joke about things like this anymore. I’m just a servant. I only hope to live a quiet, peaceful life.”
Hearing that, Qin Zheng finally sobered up a little. He stared at Ji Qingzhou, a scrutinizing look in his eyes. Ji Qingzhou met his gaze calmly, but for just a split second, he caught a flash of guardedness in Qin Zheng’s eyes.
Ji Qingzhou silently reminded himself: Qin Zheng had never been as easygoing as he appeared.
Even if he acted carefree and laughed with him every day, deep down, he still didn’t fully trust Ji Qingzhou.
Maybe… that was exactly why Li Zhan kept him close.
But Ji Qingzhou had a clear conscience. He had no reason to fear.
After a short nap, Li Zhan went to the study to deal with memorials.
The young emperor wouldn’t stop being restless, so Ji Qingzhou prepared some brush and ink on a nearby low table to let him draw and stay occupied.
“Liang Kingdom is sending a diplomatic mission to the capital next month. Leading the group is their young prince,” Li Zhan said, tossing a document to Qin Zheng. “You’ve dealt with him before. Take someone from the Ministry of Rites and handle the reception.”
Qin Zheng glanced at the document, raising an eyebrow. “That the same kid I made cry last time?”
“No hitting this time,” Li Zhan said.
Qin Zheng set the document aside, clearly not very interested. Instead, he wandered over to watch the young emperor draw. The boy was scribbling all over the paper with a calligraphy brush, and the result looked like complete nonsense. Once Qin Zheng joined in to mess around, the poor drawing became even more of a disaster.
“Grind the ink…” Li Zhan suddenly said.
The study instantly fell silent. After a moment, Ji Qingzhou finally reacted and hurried over to the desk to help Li Zhan grind the ink.
“Add some water…” Li Zhan spoke again.
Ji Qingzhou was briefly startled, then realized the inkstone had nearly dried out from over-grinding, so he quickly added a bit of clean water.
He had never served anyone in matters of brush and ink before, so he was already unfamiliar with this sort of task. On top of that, the earlier embarrassment kept distracting him—his mind kept wandering. And for some reason, every time he got close to Li Zhan, his mind would involuntarily recall that scene he had witnessed…
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but wonder—why did that image keep replaying in his head?
Later, he came up with what he thought was a fairly reasonable explanation: envy!
Humans inevitably envied the things they didn’t have—and even felt jealousy.
In other words, he was “bitter” or “green with envy”…
He used to be a perfectly normal man. But ever since crossing over and becoming a eunuch, even though everything was still technically “in place,” he hadn’t had a single proper physical reaction in almost two months.
At first, Ji Qingzhou had been overwhelmed by the shock and novelty of transmigrating, so he didn’t dwell too much on the changes in his body. But as more time passed, that sense of loss in his heart only grew heavier.
Especially after today—after seeing Li Zhan up close like that—the shock to his system was immense.
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help sighing inwardly. If only his… could somehow go back to normal!
But then he thought again—with his current build, even if he went back to normal, he could never compare to Li Zhan…
That thought left him feeling even more dejected.
This awkward and uncomfortable feeling inside Ji Qingzhou lasted for several days before it gradually faded. Fortunately, Li Zhan hadn’t called on him to assist with bathing again. Otherwise, Ji Qingzhou was genuinely worried his mentality might collapse.
In the past few days, Ji Qingzhou had also grown quite familiar with the people in Yinghui Pavilion.
As the chief eunuch, yet someone who never acted superior, he was well-liked by the attendants of Yinghui Pavilion.
Ji Qingzhou had always been curious about the eunuchs here. Given how cautious Li Zhan was, earning his trust should have been incredibly difficult. So what had these people done to win his favor, to the point where Li Zhan personally brought them into Yinghui Pavilion?
When Ji Qingzhou inquired, he was surprised to find out that most of these people had no prior connection to Li Zhan.
Take Wei Yuanfeng, for example. He had been in the palace for several years, always quiet and dutiful. He never went out of his way to impress others or flatter superiors, which left him stuck doing the dirtiest and most tiring jobs in the cleaning department.
Even when he was summoned to serve in Yinghui Pavilion, he had no idea what he had done to deserve it…
And it wasn’t just Wei Yuanfeng. Ji Qingzhou discovered that most of the other attendants in Yinghui Pavilion had similar backgrounds.
Honest, low-profile, without entanglements—such people were certainly easier to trust. But how had the Regent found all these people so easily? Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but wonder. Li Zhan had no real foundation in the palace before—if he had, he wouldn’t have been so cautious about even eating in the palace!
Yet in just over a month, he had accomplished what others would’ve thought impossible.
Not only had he recruited so many clean-background attendants, he had also moved into Yinghui Pavilion openly and with dignity. Even the court officials who had loudly objected had been subdued into obedient silence…
Was there some crucial piece he had overlooked?
Ji Qingzhou racked his brain but couldn’t figure it out…
“Ji Gonggong, someone’s asking for you outside,” a young eunuch came to report.
Ji Qingzhou’s thoughts were interrupted. He got up and followed the messenger out of Yinghui Pavilion, only to see Tu Dayou standing at the door with a grin, a young eunuch standing behind him.
“Brother Dayou, why didn’t you come in?” Ji Qingzhou smiled the moment he saw Tu Dayou.
“This Yinghui Pavilion isn’t like the Imperial Study. We can’t just waltz in whenever we like,” Tu Dayou replied with mock seriousness.
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but laugh and lightly shoved his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Tu Dayou reached out to neaten the collar of Ji Qingzhou’s red eunuch robes, gave him a once-over, and said, “Not bad. You haven’t lost weight.”
“I can’t speak for anything else in Yinghui Pavilion, but they certainly don’t skimp on food,” Ji Qingzhou replied.
“Then you probably won’t need the person I brought today,” Tu Dayou said, stepping aside slightly to reveal the young eunuch behind him, who lifted his head to look at Ji Qingzhou.
Ji Qingzhou was momentarily stunned at the sight—and his eyes instantly turned red.
“Xiao Shan?” Ji Qingzhou stepped forward and held Xiao Shan’s shoulders, giving him a careful look. Though his complexion was still a little pale, it no longer looked sickly. He must have recovered a good deal in recent days.
Xiao Shan smiled at him, wiped his eyes with a hand, but was too emotional to speak.
Tu Dayou gave Xiao Shan a gentle nudge on the back and said, “Don’t cry out here. Go inside and talk slowly.”
With that, he waved to Ji Qingzhou and turned to leave.
Ji Qingzhou was briefly dazed, not quite processing everything yet. Xiao Shan explained, “Chief Steward Yao transferred me from the Imperial Kitchen to Yinghui Pavilion. He said there’s a small kitchen here, and if Wang Ye ever wants something special, I can help prepare it.”
Xiao Shan had worked in the Imperial Kitchen for a long time. While he wasn’t quite at the level of an imperial chef, his cooking was more than decent.
The small kitchen in Yinghui Pavilion had always been unused—Xiao Shan’s arrival was a perfect fit.
Only now did Ji Qingzhou realize—Xiao Shan had officially become part of Yinghui Pavilion.
No need to ask—though it was Chief Steward Yao who made the transfer, there was no way it happened without Li Zhan’s consent.
“Did Wang Ye request you himself?” Ji Qingzhou asked as he led Xiao Shan inside, having Wei Yuanfeng arrange a place for him to stay, while also bringing him back to his own room. “Back when Young Master Qin told me not to worry, I figured maybe Wang Ye would spare your life, but I never expected…”
Seeing Xiao Shan safe and whole in front of him again left Ji Qingzhou overwhelmed. He had never dared hope Xiao Shan would come out of it unscathed. He had thought the best outcome would be a broken leg—or being expelled from the palace.
After all, Xiao Shan’s offense under palace law was a capital crime.
“He Man took the blame for me and was beaten with twenty rods,” Xiao Shan said with reddened eyes. “Originally, the Office of Judicial Review planned to beat him to death, but that day someone was executed on the steps of the throne room. I heard it frightened many court officials into illness. So Wang Ye issued a decree that the Office of Judicial Review must not be overly harsh—unless it was high treason, punishments should be reduced to caning and pay deductions. No more random killings.”
Only then did Ji Qingzhou realize—he had thought Li Zhan’s decree had merely been to warn off the ministers from meddling in his move to Yinghui Pavilion. But now he realized it had also cleverly protected Xiao Shan and He Man.
It was a masterstroke—using a small action to protect two lives.
“Brother Dayou told me that if it weren’t for the distraction caused by Yinghui Pavilion, our case would’ve stirred up a storm across the capital,” Xiao Shan said. “Court officials have always been harsh toward the Inner Attendant Department. After all, we serve His Majesty directly—any disloyalty could cause a major disaster.”
Ji Qingzhou gave a cold laugh. “It’s not just about that. But never mind—it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that you’re alive.”
“Mhm.” Xiao Shan sniffled, eyes still red. “You and Wang Ye saved both me and He Man. From now on, I—”
Ji Qingzhou raised a hand to stop him mid-sentence. “Don’t say those overly formal words… Now that you’re in Yinghui Pavilion, what about He Man?”
“I don’t know,” Xiao Shan said. “Brother Dayou wouldn’t let me ask. He only told me He Man’s still alive. I don’t even hope to see him again… As long as I know he’s alive, that’s enough.”
Ji Qingzhou nodded and didn’t press further.
The Office of Judicial Review had already shown rare mercy—it was impossible to expect them to let the two continue their relationship in the palace.
Whether to eliminate future trouble or to avoid giving others leverage, only one of them could stay in the palace. As for where He Man had been sent—whether expelled or exiled somewhere—there was no way the Office would tell Xiao Shan.
“As long as you’re still alive, fate will bring you together again someday,” Ji Qingzhou patted Xiao Shan’s shoulder gently and tried to comfort him.
Xiao Shan nodded hard, forcing a smile at Ji Qingzhou, but he still couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up and spilled from his eyes.
Ji Qingzhou reached out and pulled Xiao Shan into his arms. Xiao Shan rested his head on Ji Qingzhou’s shoulder and began to sob softly, suppressing the sound so he wouldn’t cry out loud.
In that moment, Ji Qingzhou suddenly recalled his conversation with Qin Zheng.
Eunuchs are still human. Eunuchs still have emotions and desires…
But right now, he felt that maybe not having them would actually be better.
After Wei Yuanfeng brought Xiao Shan away to settle him in, Ji Qingzhou headed to the study.
Li Zhan was frowning as he marked up a memorial with his brush. When he noticed Ji Qingzhou enter, he lifted his eyes slightly but didn’t say anything.
Ji Qingzhou walked up to him, lifted his robes and knelt down, giving Li Zhan a formal bow.
Li Zhan’s brush paused. He looked up at the youth, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“Thank you, Wang Ye, for intervening and saving them,” Ji Qingzhou said, and then bowed deeply once more.
“It was just a minor effort,” Li Zhan replied. “They were lucky that the incident happened right after I moved into Yinghui Pavilion. If not for that coincidence, I wouldn’t have involved myself at all.”
Ji Qingzhou didn’t look disappointed upon hearing that. Instead, he said sincerely, “Then I still thank Wang Ye for that ‘minor effort.’”
He bowed once more. Seeing this, Li Zhan finally put down his brush and looked at the youth. “It’s just a tactic to win hearts. You’re clever enough to know that. Why act so ceremoniously?”
“Whether it was easy for Wang Ye or not, the result was still a matter of life and death for me,” Ji Qingzhou said.
“Get up. No more bowing,” Li Zhan said.
Ji Qingzhou knew when to stop. He stood up and, without needing to be told, walked over to the desk to help Li Zhan grind ink.
Li Zhan’s gaze fell on Ji Qingzhou’s slender, pale hands. He gave a light cough and asked, “Did he tell you everything?”
“Yes,” Ji Qingzhou answered. “So… Tang Yi died because of this?”
“Not entirely,” Li Zhan replied. “If he could bury His Majesty’s rabbit today, he could bury His Majesty himself tomorrow. I’ve said before—I can allow people to have their own ambitions, but the bottom line is the emperor.”
Ji Qingzhou glanced up at Li Zhan when he heard that—only to unexpectedly meet the man’s eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, but in his heart, he felt a trace of unease. It was true that after spending time with Li Zhan, he had come to realize the man wasn’t as violent or cruel as he had first imagined. But this version of Li Zhan—calm, calculating, and capable of balancing grace with authority—was even harder to grasp.
And for some reason, from the bathhouse conversation to today’s words, Li Zhan seemed to be repeating one message: Don’t have any improper thoughts about the young emperor.
Why was he warning him again and again?
Was Ji Qingzhou not already treating the young emperor well enough?
Time passed quickly.
After some rest and care, Xiao Shan’s health had mostly recovered.
Lately, he often cooked small, special meals for Ji Qingzhou at Yinghui Pavilion. As a result, Ji Qingzhou no longer looked quite so thin. Even his previously sharp chin had gained a little roundness.
Ji Qingzhou had been rather excessively skinny before. Now that he’d put on a bit of weight, it didn’t make him look chubby—instead, he looked healthier, and his complexion was noticeably better. His face stood out even more than before.
Since that day, Xiao Shan never brought up He Man again.
Naturally, Ji Qingzhou didn’t mention him either—he didn’t want to bring up anything that would make Xiao Shan sad. But every so often, he would catch Xiao Shan staring blankly into space, eyes red and expression full of quiet sorrow.
By the end of May, something happened in the capital’s outskirts—neither too big nor too small.
An old Wang Ye who had been staying in his countryside estate to escape the summer heat suddenly fell gravely ill and nearly didn’t make it.
Several imperial physicians from the palace were sent out, and after a full night of chaos, they managed to save him. But afterward, the old prince’s mind seemed to have become a little muddled.
This old Wang Ye was the uncle of both Li Zhan and the late emperor. When the former emperor was alive, he had greatly relied on this elder. But after the emperor’s death, the old Wang Ye was grief-stricken and withdrew from political affairs. As the capital became increasingly hot in late May, Li Zhan had deliberately arranged for him to stay in the countryside estate to escape the heat. No one had expected the old man to fall critically ill there.
Given the severity of the illness, Li Zhan naturally had to go and visit.
This time, he also brought the young emperor along.
Initially, Li Zhan hadn’t intended to bring Ji Qingzhou. But the young emperor insisted, begging and pestering until Li Zhan finally relented.
“If you don’t want to go, there’s no need to force yourself,” Li Zhan said to Ji Qingzhou before they departed.
Ji Qingzhou was puzzled. “Why would I be unwilling?”
Li Zhan stared at him for a long moment. Seeing no sign of pretense in his expression, he said nothing more.
Throughout the journey, Li Zhan appeared unusually conflicted. Several times, he seemed to want to say something to Ji Qingzhou but stopped each time before the words left his lips.
Only when they arrived at the estate did Ji Qingzhou understand why Li Zhan had asked that question…
Ji Qingzhou stepped out of the carriage, holding the sleeping young emperor in his arms. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he felt a sharp gaze fall upon him. Then, a youth strode quickly toward him and suddenly grabbed his arm.
Startled, Ji Qingzhou’s first reaction was to assume he was under attack. But when he took a closer look, he saw that the young man was quite handsome and wore a light green cloak. He looked familiar somehow.
“Who told you to come here?” the youth asked with a furrowed brow.
Ji Qingzhou, still cradling the young emperor, looked confused—as if asking silently, “And who might you be?”
“Was it Third Brother who sent you?” The youth’s expression grew angrier. “I knew it… I just knew…”
Before the youth could finish his sentence, Li Zhan appeared beside Ji Qingzhou. He naturally took the young emperor from Ji Qingzhou’s arms and, without a word, positioned himself between the two, partially shielding Ji Qingzhou behind him.
Li Zhan stood a full head taller than the young man. Just standing there, he exuded an intimidating presence. The youth involuntarily took a step back, but his gaze passed over Li Zhan’s shoulder and remained fixed on Ji Qingzhou behind him. That look in his eyes was layered and complex, impossible to decipher at first glance.
Ji Qingzhou’s mind spun rapidly. And then, he suddenly remembered who this was.
At the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet, it had been this very youth who had stared at him intently. He’d even asked Tu Dayou about his identity back then.
He was Prince Heng—
Li Zhan’s younger brother!
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