Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 80

Chapter 80: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (29)

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Something major happened in the capital.

 

The Emperor’s full-blooded younger brother, who had been lost to the outside world, was found on the fifteenth day of the eighth month in the third year of Ping Wu.

 

In the eastern part of the capital—especially the northeastern area closest to the Imperial Palace—were the mansions of the most powerful nobles and officials.

 

Among them, the largest residence in Shengye Lane had long stood empty. Now it had been fully renovated and designated as the princely estate of the newly titled Prince Yuan.

 

All of the arrangements followed the highest standard—just below the Emperor himself, second only to one, above all others.

 

A seven-courtyard mansion, with countless living quarters, plus rare pavilions like the Fragrant Snow Lodge, the Rain-Listening Pavilion, the Lake-Heart Pavilion, the Moon-Inviting Terrace. With clear waters and green hills, it was practically a royal garden unto itself.

 

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that when the newly named Prince Yuan, Shui Que, saw the design plans from the Ministry of Works, he felt he could practically row a boat around his own estate.

 

Duan Zhang still worried it wasn’t grand enough. He scrutinized the blueprints over and over, and still wasn’t satisfied.

 

“Xiao Yao, do you like exotic animals? How about we build you a menagerie in your estate?”

 

In front of this long-lost younger brother, Duan Zhang had completely dropped the air of an emperor. He even used casual, intimate language—”you” and “I.”

 

Shui Que sat at a dark lacquered table in the Zichen Hall, feeling more or less overwhelmed.

 

Just moments ago, this was still the palace where Cabinet Ministers discussed matters of state. Now it was being used to make decisions about the renovations to his princely residence. It all felt rather dreamlike.

 

Faced with Duan Zhang’s question, he could only obediently smile and reply, “I’ll… I’ll listen to Imperial Brother.”

 

Duan Zhang’s voice was gentle, utterly unlike the strict and stern demeanor he showed during Cabinet meetings, where his cold expression was enough to command awe. Now, he answered Shui Que’s hesitation with patient warmth, “Alright, then we’ll build the menagerie to the north of the Lake-Heart Pavilion. A bit farther from the inner quarters—though the beasts are interesting, they’re still noisy animals.”

 

He had gone to great lengths to get Shui Que to stop calling him “Your Majesty,” and to instead say “Imperial Brother” without fear.

 

“Earlier, during the southern tribute missions, they presented a sacred beast from Nanyang, said to resemble our own legendary qilin by two or three parts,” Duan Zhang added. “Once your estate is finished, I’ll have it sent to your residence.”

 

He looked at Shui Que the same way one would look at a child. Children were often fond of curious little things—Duan Zhang himself had been no exception. When he was young, he often played in the royal menagerie in the palace, which inevitably delayed his studies.

 

Shui Que, having grown up elsewhere, had never experienced such joys.

 

Duan Zhang suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He made up his mind then and there to build a menagerie for Shui Que within the Prince’s residence.

 

Today was a day of rest. He wore a dark-colored informal robe and marked locations on a scroll submitted by the Ministry of Works, occasionally asking Shui Que for his opinions in a warm and gentle voice.

 

The afternoon sunlight streamed in like ink flowing over water, spilling through the lattice windows.

 

Were it not for the golden bricks underfoot and the dragons and phoenixes adorning everything in sight, their interactions would have been no different from that of any ordinary pair of brothers.

 

Shui Que hummed along, brushing off Duan Zhang’s questions with vague responses like “Whatever elder brother thinks,” while silently calling out to his system.

 

【77, you never mentioned before entering this world that my role was as a long-lost prince?】

 

System 77 had no idea what was going on either, but it tried its best to comfort its host: 【There must be a bug in the world setting. Don’t worry, host, I’m reporting it as an emergency right now!】

 

Shui Que, still dutifully thinking about his mission, asked helplessly: 【Then what happens to my storyline progression?】

 

System 77 stammered: 【Host, don’t think about the plot for now. I’ve applied for an emergency protocol. I’ve secured 81% of your current progress. Just treat it as an early vacation while the bug is being fixed!】

 

It muttered, 【After all, host, you’ve been working hard for a long time.】

 

If not for the presence of the Overseer, System 77 would have cursed out the main system—what kind of garbage world assignments had it been given? Full of flaws and riddled with bugs!

 

It conveniently omitted the fact that due to its own low rank as a system, it couldn’t even get good roles or decent storylines.

 

Shui Que, suddenly and passively granted a vacation, felt genuinely lost. Since the fifteenth of August, it had all felt like a dream.

 

Even though Duan Zhang knew Shui Que had lost his memory, he patiently explained the royal secrets to him in private.

 

It turned out, Shui Que was the youngest son of the now-deceased Empress Dowager. When he was born, both his mother and elder brother were walking on thin ice in the palace. The royal court was filled with danger. The former empress eyed them like a hawk from above, while outside the palace, the late emperor was suppressing the Wei family. Marquis Anyuan was under siege from both ends, barely able to protect himself, and could only manage minimal support for his adopted sister.

 

To protect Shui Que’s life, his mother had no choice but to entrust him to a Su family cloth merchant outside the palace.

 

That merchant owed his life to Marquis Anyuan, so he readily agreed. Coincidentally, that same year, the merchant’s wife gave birth to a son the same age as Shui Que. The whole family settled in Suwu Prefecture using silver gifted by the Marquis. From then on, the wife and son lived in seclusion. Even when they went out, they always wore broad-brimmed hats, claiming to have only one son to avoid suspicion.

 

After outlasting the late emperor and all his half-brothers, Duan Zhang had fought his way to the throne. Once he had real power, he immediately began searching for the Su family.

 

He had been just over ten when his little brother was born. The only thing he remembered was the token his brother carried—an imperial gift of white jade his mother had received. A longevity lock had been crafted from pure silver, and a small leaf was carved from the white jade and hung at its base.

 

“Let the little one fly free from the palace, like a bird,” his mother had said.

 

“Zhang’er, when you grow up, don’t forget your little brother.”

 

Duan Zhang had never forgotten her dying wish.

 

After ascending the throne, the first thing he did was posthumously honor his mother as the Empress Dowager. The second was to secretly investigate the whereabouts of the Su family.

 

There were no portraits of his younger brother, no name—only the jade pendant.

 

Eventually, he learned that the Su family of three had been killed by bandits. Duan Zhang couldn’t sleep that night. He knelt before his mother’s memorial tablet, consumed by dread.

 

Thankfully, no body had been found, and the longevity lock had not surfaced. That meant there was still a glimmer of hope.

 

Even though Shui Que bore little resemblance to the late emperor or the Empress Dowager, perhaps due to the bond of blood, Duan Zhang had recognized him at first sight.

 

He gently stroked Shui Que’s jet-black hair. “Thank heaven… truly, the heavens still watch over me.”

 

After lunch, Shui Que dozed off. With someone murmuring softly nearby like a lullaby, his head slowly tilted and came to rest on Duan Zhang’s shoulder.

 

The chief eunuch serving them wanted to move him to a side chamber to rest more comfortably.

 

But having served Duan Zhang for many years, he was sharp enough to hesitate for just a moment—and sure enough, the next instant, the emperor personally picked up Prince Yuan and carried him to his usual resting place.

 

The emperor had finally found his long-lost brother. Naturally, he preferred to do things himself, and clearly took joy in it.

 

The side chamber’s dragon bed was covered in soft imperial brocade.

 

Duan Zhang gently brushed the hair away from Shui Que’s face and whispered, “Xiao Yao, we’re the only blood relatives each other has left.”

 

He had grown up in the palace and, as a child, had been harmed by his half-brothers. For years, he was forced to ingest slow-acting poison. By the time it was discovered, the damage to his health was irreversible. Now, as he aged, he could only manage up to three hours of state affairs each day before exhaustion overtook him.

 

Duan Zhang would never be able to father children of his own.

 

……

 

The construction of Prince Yuan’s residence had received multiple personal edicts from the emperor, insisting on excellence. With the emperor’s own handwritten notes increasing the scope of the work, even though the craftsmen of the Imperial Works Department labored day and night, the residence would not be completed until after the New Year.

 

So Duan Zhang had the East Palace cleaned and prepared. Within a single day, the place had taken on a brand-new look.

 

And thus, Shui Que, a newly minted prince, ended up living in the East Palace—traditionally reserved for the Crown Prince—in a manner entirely out of step with protocol.

 

Many stubborn old ministers submitted memorials, advising against such an improper arrangement.

 

Duan Zhang ignored them all. With no change in expression, he marked the memorials with a sweeping “Reviewed.”

 

This was precisely where his newly promoted censor, Cui Shixin, came into play with greater authority and responsibility.

 

Before long, verses and essays began circulating through the capital—anonymous writings, of course.

Naturally, they extolled the brotherly affection between the emperor and Prince Yuan.

 

The language was clear and accessible, allowing even commoners to understand. The emotions were genuine and moving, leaving readers in tears.

 

They spoke with certainty—at the time of Prince Yuan’s birth, there had been divine omens: radiant lights and multicolored clouds formed from birdsong. He was a child of great fortune, sent to live among the common folk for a time, only to one day return and bring prosperity to Darong Kingdom.

 

When Shui Que heard his young eunuch attendant reading these verses aloud, he was so embarrassed that his fingers curled up into fists.

 

Cui Shixin had really laid it on thick…

 

Of course Shui Que knew the author was Cui Shixin. The man was now his elder brother’s top scribe. Beyond overseeing the conduct of officials, his other job was to shape public opinion.

 

He had even told Shui Que he’d spent ages refining the piece, initially wanting to include Qi Chaojin and Wei Yan in the story—branding them as the chief culprits who delayed Prince Yuan’s return to the royal family.

 

But considering those two were favorites of the emperor and pillars of his court, he had backed off.

 

Besides, Shui Que had told Duan Zhang that when he had wandered into Changzhou, it was Qi Chaojin who took him in. Cui Shixin had looked after him too. Later, Wei Yan offered him a place to stay in the capital.

 

Hearing that, the emperor was delighted and said he had truly not misjudged his loyal subjects.

 

And so, rewards poured into the residences of all three men.

 

The emperor must have assumed that they were simply Shui Que’s close friends.

 

Cui Shixin had no choice but to give up.

 

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that Shui Que realized he hadn’t seen Wei Yan in days.

 

But he had seen Marquis Anyuan.

 

At the family banquet in the palace arranged by Duan Zhang, only the members of the Wei family were invited.

 

Marquis Anyuan, who had just returned in time for the Mid-Autumn Festival, was already over forty years old. After years of defending the northern borders and clashing with the nomadic Shuo Dan army, his temples had turned gray, yet his body remained sturdy and powerful, with broad shoulders and a thick waist.

 

He looked like he could lift ten Shui Ques with ease.

 

When the Marquis saw him, his brows lifted and his eyes lit up with joy. He opened his arms and called out warmly, “Ah, Xiao Yao, it’s your uncle. Come here to Uncle.”

 

Shui Que obediently stepped forward. “Uncle.”

 

Marquis Anyuan pulled his nephew into a tight embrace, squeezing him so firmly it was almost hard to breathe, before finally letting go.

 

His eyes were red, and his voice choked with emotion. “The moment I saw you, I thought of Sister Yun.”

 

That was the name of Shui Que’s mother consort—just a single character, Yun.

 

Though she was his sworn sister, military men valued loyalty and righteousness. Her father had died saving his own father, so Marquis Anyuan had always treated her like a real sister.

 

The entire Wei family had been her and her children’s support system.

 

Unfortunately, beauty often met a cruel fate.

 

At the family banquet, reminiscing led to sorrow, and eventually, Marquis Anyuan and his mother ended up weeping in each other’s arms.

 

Shui Que, seated beside Duan Zhang, felt completely overwhelmed and could only do his best to comfort his uncle and grandmother.

 

As the banquet was drawing to an end, Shui Que suddenly remembered something. “Wei Yan… Why didn’t my two cousins come?”

 

Marquis Anyuan looked awkward. He stroked his beard and explained, “The two of them accidentally injured themselves recently and are recuperating at home.”

 

Shui Que was doubtful.

 

What had Wei Yan and Wei Zhao been up to?

 

How could they both be injured at the same time?

 

While their family banquet was filled with warmth and harmony, the ancestral hall of the marquis’ residence was cold and desolate.

 

Wei Zhao’s knees had turned bruised and numb from kneeling for so long. Trembling, he asked, “Brother, I got caught sneaking into a brothel, but what about you? Why were you punished?”

 

It didn’t make sense.

 

Compared to him, their father clearly favored Wei Yan and saw him as a source of pride.

 

White candles flickered in the ancestral hall, casting dancing shadows of flame.

 

Wei Zhao couldn’t bear to look at the bloody, mangled whip marks across Wei Yan’s back and waist.

 

Wei Zhao had only been punished to kneel from afternoon until night, and already his knees felt like they weren’t part of his body anymore.

 

But his older brother Wei Yan had endured flogging, with wounds left untreated, kneeling for two nights and a day, without a single bite of food or drop of water. And yet, he still remained fully conscious, kneeling upright like a pine tree.

 

In the dim light, half of Wei Yan’s face was hidden in shadow. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I suggested to Marquis Anyuan that our Wei family should become even more closely tied to the royal family.”

 

Wei Zhao instantly understood what he meant. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Brother… you’re actually serious?!”

 

“I never joked about this.”

 

Wei Yan’s gaze burned with intensity.

 

……

 

Shui Que had thought he was merely staying in the Eastern Palace for a short while.

 

Every day, he ate well, drank well, and without stepping outside, he had performers from the Entertainment Bureau and various theater troupes come to stage all kinds of shows—illusion acts, operas, costume plays…

 

There were even people sent outside the palace to deliver freshly printed serialized novels from the bookstores directly to him.

 

He had so much to read that he couldn’t finish it all in one day, and the same went for food.

 

Shui Que genuinely felt like he was on vacation.

 

But after a few days—

 

A young eunuch suddenly woke him softly at the fifth watch of the night.

 

“Your Highness, it’s time to wake up. His Majesty is already waiting outside.”

 

Shui Que couldn’t even open his eyes.

 

Outside the sleeping chamber came the sound of a suppressed cough, followed by the concerned voice of the chief eunuch worrying about His Majesty’s health.

 

Still concerned about his imperial brother, Shui Que groggily forced himself to leave the bed.

 

He let the palace servants help him wash up, dress him, and fix his hair.

 

He wore a round-collared, narrow-sleeved robe embroidered with a landscape of rivers and mountains, with rich brocade trim. Around his waist was a double-wrapped silver-inlaid belt, and on his head, a golden crown adorned with jade rings and cloud patterns.

 

The whole outfit was designed for ease of movement.

 

But back when he had lived in the palace before, the servants always dressed him in wide-sleeved, flowing robes.

 

Was there something special about today?

 

When Duan Zhang saw him emerge, he swallowed the itch in his throat.

 

“Still not fully awake?” He gently brushed the corner of Shui Que’s eye—still damp from just washing up, eyelashes wet.

 

Duan Zhang said, “When I was still a prince, I had to get up at the fourth watch and be at the study hall by the fifth to wait for the teacher’s morning lectures.”

 

Shui Que was too sleepy, his words thick with drowsiness. “Mmm-hmm.”

 

“Imperial Brother, you’re amazing.”

 

Thank goodness he wasn’t a prince. Now that he was back, he only needed to be a carefree royal prince (conferred title prince).

 

Duan Zhang glanced around the Eastern Palace.

 

“Let’s eat first,” he said. “Since you’ve been wandering outside all these years, you’ve gotten out of practice with the six arts of a nobleman. I’ve arranged some teachers for you.”

 

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the autumn air was cool.

 

Shui Que woke up completely in an instant.

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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