Chapter 43
In front of the throne room, a gentle breeze swept through, carrying with it the midday heat of summer.
Yet Ji Qingzhou couldn’t help but feel a chill run through him.
He hadn’t expected that the person Tu Dayou had previously been loyal to… was Prince Heng.
Prince Heng was only sixteen or seventeen, still a youth barely past childhood—how could he have had the nerve to go up against the Regent?
And what’s more, what Prince Heng had instructed Tu Dayou to do was to take the Regent’s life!
This young man before him had truly been willing to raise a hand against his own elder brother?
All those palace intrigue dramas hadn’t lied!
“Surprised?” Prince Heng smiled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Ji Qingzhou forced himself to calm down and said, “Is that what Wang Ye wanted to tell me?”
“What, you think that’s not enough?” Prince Heng raised a brow.
“If Wang Ye has said all you need to say, then this servant will take his leave.” Ji Qingzhou gave a bow, intending to depart.
But Prince Heng stepped swiftly in front of him, blocking his way. The smile faded from his lips, replaced by a touch of mockery as he said, “Tu Dayou was willing to risk his life to serve me for your sake, and yet you personally handed him over to the Office of Judicial Review… Ji Qingzhou, I’m quite curious—what kind of unspeakable relationship do you have with him? Don’t tell me you eunuchs…”
“Your Highness Fourt Prince.” Ji Qingzhou could tell the next words out of his mouth would be offensive, and quickly cut him off. “Please watch your words.”
“Watch my words? A servant like you is teaching me how to speak?” Prince Heng sneered. “Is that how you speak to Third Brother too, with no regard for rank?”
Ji Qingzhou drew a deep breath, lifted his robes, and was about to kneel in apology—but Prince Heng grabbed his arm.
“You’re going to kneel just because I said a few words? Ji Qingzhou, you really are…” Prince Heng dropped the cold sneer and swapped it for an expression of wounded disappointment.
Ji Qingzhou was utterly speechless. This Prince Heng had a serious case of adolescent dramatics. Whenever he tried to speak properly, he would get snide and sarcastic, and the moment something didn’t go his way, he’d get all moody and theatrical. Truly impossible to deal with! Thank the heavens the Regent had a completely different temperament—if he were like this, serving him would be unbearable.
“Don’t go. Stay and talk with me for a while,” said Prince Heng.
Ji Qingzhou: …
Here we go again…
“Tu Dayou begged me to help you leave the palace,” Prince Heng said. “You didn’t really want to stay by Third Brother’s side, did you? You wanted to get out too, isn’t that right?”
Without waiting for Ji Qingzhou to reply, he went on, “You’re a man—how could you be willing to stay in the palace and become some half-man, half-woman freak…”
Ji Qingzhou: …
What do you mean, “half-man, half-woman freak”? There’s no need for personal attacks!
Eunuchs are human too, okay?! Why the name-calling?
“Third Brother wants to make you his own. He sees that you’re useful. He wants you to assist him, to watch as he takes the throne…” Prince Heng said slowly.
Ji Qingzhou was startled by those words. What a damning thing to say! If someone overheard this, just the memorials from the censors would be enough to drown you! No matter what else could be said, Ji Qingzhou knew one thing for sure—Li Zhan had no desire to become emperor. If he did, there’d be no throne left for the young emperor.
It was people like Prince Heng, always suspicious, always viewing others through the lens of their own crooked thoughts, who created these rumors. Ji Qingzhou figured that many of the court ministers probably shared such doubts, though none dared to voice them aloud in Li Zhan’s presence.
At that moment, Ji Qingzhou actually felt a pang of sympathy for Li Zhan. No wonder the Regent, having been reborn, now acted with such sweeping decisiveness—he no longer cared a whit about the opinions of the court officials. He’d moved into Yinghui Pavilion just because he said he would. Ji Qingzhou figured that in his previous life, Li Zhan must have suffered quite a few injustices; no matter how cautious and restrained he had been, he was still constantly accused of harboring ulterior motives. So this time around, he probably thought: why bother enduring it anymore?
Say what you want—he had a clear conscience, and didn’t fear casting shadows.
“I don’t think the same way as Third Brother. I can help you leave the palace…” Prince Heng looked at Ji Qingzhou with a burning gaze. “As long as you’re willing, once you’re out of the palace, you can return to being a normal man. You won’t have to serve anyone anymore… I… I promise I’ll treat you well.”
Ji Qingzhou: …
So he wouldn’t be serving Li Zhan anymore, but would serve you instead?
If he left the palace just to follow Prince Heng, wouldn’t that be like jumping into a pit of fire?
Not to mention that Prince Heng had a strange temper and a terminal case of adolescent delusion, the real problem was that if Li Zhan ever decided to take action, he could have him thrown into prison in the blink of an eye. Ji Qingzhou had worked so hard to pull Tu Dayou out of that pit—how could he willingly jump in himself?
“Your Highness Fourt Prince…” Ji Qingzhou began.
But Prince Heng seemed to know what he was about to say. He raised a hand and gently brushed it near Ji Qingzhou’s lips, saying, “No need to reject me just yet. Go back and think about it carefully before giving me an answer.”
After speaking, Prince Heng gave Ji Qingzhou a deep look, then turned and walked toward the palace gates.
Only then did Ji Qingzhou let out a sigh of relief and head toward Yinghui Pavilion.
On the way back, Ji Qingzhou kept turning over Prince Heng’s words in his mind.
To be honest, the idea of leaving the palace was a little tempting. Who wouldn’t want to go back to being a normal man? Even though he was now the chief steward, if given the choice, Ji Qingzhou would still prefer to leave and live as an ordinary person.
Power and status weren’t things everyone yearned for.
At least, Ji Qingzhou didn’t care much for such external possessions…
But he knew that, with his identity, getting out of the palace would be extremely difficult. Not even Li Zhan could defy the rules and simply let him go. After all, he wasn’t just a criminal—he’d been convicted by an imperial edict from the late emperor himself. Anyone who released him in defiance of that edict would be committing a grave offense against the deceased sovereign.
This was a society where the monarch’s will was law. To go against the emperor’s edict was to challenge the entire authority of the court.
That said… such a thing might actually be something Prince Heng was capable of doing.
After all, this was someone who had tried to poison the Regent at a palace banquet. If he could try to murder his brother, what was violating a dead emperor’s edict to him? The logic of someone with a chūnibyō mind couldn’t be measured by common sense—and that was precisely why Ji Qingzhou absolutely refused to get involved with him.
Who knew when that lunatic might suddenly go off the rails?
When Ji Qingzhou returned to Yinghui Pavilion, Li Zhan had already finished his meeting.
Seeing him writing a document, Ji Qingzhou went over on his own to grind the ink.
“Did something happen at the palace school?” Li Zhan asked without looking up.
“Replying to Wang Ye, no, nothing happened,” Ji Qingzhou said.
Li Zhan glanced at him, then asked, “Then why did you come back so late?”
Ji Qingzhou paused, his hand briefly stilled. “I ran into Fourth Prince in front of the throne room,” he replied.
“Old Fourth?” Li Zhan’s brows furrowed. He asked in a cold voice, “What did he say to you?”
“He… Fourth Prince said he wants to help me leave the palace,” Ji Qingzhou admitted, not daring to hide it from Li Zhan. If Li Zhan heard about it from someone else, it would only breed suspicion. It was better to be honest now. “He also told me… Tu Dayou used to serve him.”
Upon hearing that, Li Zhan put down his brush, looked up at Ji Qingzhou, and asked, “Do you want to leave the palace?”
“I…” Ji Qingzhou hesitated. His expression said it all.
A trace of unreadable emotion flickered in Li Zhan’s gaze before he said quietly, “If you truly wish to leave, once the time is right, I will find a way… I won’t keep you trapped here your whole life.”
“Really?” Ji Qingzhou looked up, surprised.
The joy in his eyes was unhidden—he didn’t even try to mask it.
Li Zhan looked at him for a moment and gave a low reply: “Mm.”
“Thank you, Wang Ye!” Ji Qingzhou quickly bowed deeply.
He knew Li Zhan was a man of his word. Since he had promised, it wasn’t meant just to placate him. As for what exactly constituted “the right time,” Ji Qingzhou didn’t ask further—they had an unspoken understanding.
“What else did Old Fourth say to you?” Li Zhan asked again.
Ji Qingzhou thought for a moment. Prince Heng had said some things that were rather inappropriate to repeat. There was no way he could report everything to Li Zhan word for word, right? Still, there was one line that was just barely acceptable to repeat, so he said with a half-joking tone, “Fourth Prince also said I looked good in this outfit, so I suppose I should thank Wang Ye for the promotion.”
As he spoke, he lifted his arm slightly to show off the python robe he wore, treating it like a lighthearted way of showing gratitude to Li Zhan.
Li Zhan’s gaze fell on the youth. The intricate python robe dulled some of the boyishness from his appearance, lending him a touch of dignity and refinement that gave off a certain sense of distance. Yet rather than pushing people away, that distance only made others want to approach him more—to explore, to understand….
“Cough…” Li Zhan cleared his throat softly. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a visible swallow, and he quickly averted his gaze, dipping his brush into the ink. But as the brush touched the paper, his focus wavered. A drop of ink bled onto the page without warning, spreading in a dark bloom.
He stared at the ink blot, eyes gradually turning pensive and deep.
“Wang Ye, the paper’s been spoiled,” Ji Qingzhou gently reminded him.
Li Zhan hummed in response, but didn’t move.
“Shall I change it for you?” Ji Qingzhou reached out to replace the sheet.
Li Zhan suddenly caught his wrist, the heat of his fingertips noticeably warm.
“No need to serve me. Leave,” Li Zhan said.
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t make sense of it. He assumed Li Zhan was in a bad mood because of the matter with Prince Heng, so he gave a bow and took his leave.
For the rest of that day, Li Zhan didn’t summon Ji Qingzhou to serve him again.
The attendants in Yinghui Pavilion were confused. The new Chief Steward had just been appointed—how could he fall out of favor on the very first day?
Only Qin Zheng fancied himself clever and believed he had figured out the truth.
In the palace garden, Ji Qingzhou was squatting with the young emperor, watching ants move their nest.
Qin Zheng crouched nearby, analyzing seriously, “Wang Ye must be jealous!”
Ji Qingzhou glanced up at him, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes.
The young emperor asked curiously, “Why does Imperial Uncle eat vinegar? Isn’t sour stuff bad?”
Note: eat vinegar = jealous in literal meaning.
Ji Qingzhou shot Qin Zheng a glare that clearly meant, Don’t talk nonsense in front of the child!—if the young emperor mentioned it to Li Zhan later, and the two of them were caught gossiping about Wang Ye, they’d both be in serious trouble.
“You do realize what Prince Heng is thinking about you, don’t you?” Qin Zheng said.
“How do you know about that?” Ji Qingzhou asked in surprise. “Did Wang Ye tell you?”
Qin Zheng gave a mysterious little smile and said, “Since you already know, why would Wang Ye bother hiding it from me?”
Ji Qingzhou paused, stunned that Li Zhan had told Qin Zheng everything about Prince Heng.
That meant, all this time, when Li Zhan pretended to be hiding the truth from both of them, the one he actually wanted to keep in the dark… was him. Not Qin Zheng.
Otherwise, why would he tell Qin Zheng the truth as soon as Ji Qingzhou found out?
But why? Why hide it from him at all? It wasn’t like this was a major secret…
Ji Qingzhou couldn’t figure it out. What harm was there in him knowing that Tu Dayou had been serving Prince Heng?
“Strange, isn’t it? If you’d really wanted to know, all you had to do was ask Tu Dayou in private, and you would’ve learned. But Wang Ye was sure you wouldn’t do that behind his back.” Qin Zheng continued, “Still, why wouldn’t he want you to know who the person behind Tu Dayou was?”
By now, Ji Qingzhou and Qin Zheng had walked some distance away, far enough that neither the young emperor nor the other attendants could overhear.
“I don’t get it either, why?” Ji Qingzhou said.
“Because…” Qin Zheng gave him a meaningful smile and lowered his voice. “Because Wang Ye knows that Prince Heng is up to no good with you. He was afraid that once you found out Prince Heng was the one behind it all, you’d be swayed by a few sweet words and run off with him!”
Ji Qingzhou: …
“You haven’t noticed? Ever since you entered the palace, Prince Heng hasn’t attended court even once. Let me tell you a secret… Since Wang Ye returned to the capital, Prince Heng has been confined at home to reflect on his actions—for three whole months.” Qin Zheng said.
Ji Qingzhou immediately understood. That confinement must have been punishment for the incident at the palace banquet when Prince Heng tried to poison Li Zhan. Though the plan failed, Li Zhan had been reborn and had lived through it once before. So upon his return, he was already aware of Prince Heng’s schemes and had Prince Heng reflect at home as a warning.
“Still, now that he’s come to you directly, I bet he’ll make another move,” Qin Zheng said. “Our Fourth Prince always acts unpredictably, but he’s capable of anything. You’d best be on guard. Don’t let anything involving him create friction between you and Wang Ye.”
Ji Qingzhou looked at him and asked, “Did Wang Ye ask you to tell me this?”
“I figured it out myself,” Qin Zheng grinned. “We’re on the same team now, aren’t we? Your big brother has to look out for you.”
Ji Qingzhou: …
Young Master Qin was getting greasier by the day… But what he said wasn’t wrong.
He really did need to stay alert around Prince Heng. Best to avoid meeting him alone in the palace at all. If anything did happen, there would be no way to explain it clearly. The fragile trust he had just barely built with Wang Ye couldn’t be risked.
“Tell me the truth…” Qin Zheng asked curiously, “What do you think of Prince Heng?”
“What do you mean, what do I think?” Ji Qingzhou frowned. “Didn’t you say you know him well? He’s moody and eccentric, does things based on his whims.”
Qin Zheng waved his hand. “That’s not what I meant… I’m asking if you have any feelings for him. After all, he’s clearly smitten with you.”
“Young Master Qin!” Ji Qingzhou said helplessly, “Can you stop joking around like this all day long? I may be an inner attendant, but I’m still a grown man, alright? Stop treating me like some maiden… and asking which young master I fancy!”
“You mean you really don’t like men?” Qin Zheng looked as if a catastrophe had just struck.
When Ji Qingzhou ignored him, Qin Zheng sighed dramatically. “So Young Master Ji doesn’t go for men after all? Pity our Wang Ye… All his affection was wasted!”
Before he could finish the sentence, a lump of dirt hit him square in the face—courtesy of Ji Qingzhou.
Qin Zheng’s days of gleefully watching drama didn’t last much longer.
A few days later, the envoy from the Liang Kingdom finally arrived in the capital. Because Qin Zheng had prior dealings with their young prince, Li Zhan sent him to handle the reception.
With Qin Zheng out of the way, Ji Qingzhou finally enjoyed some peace and quiet.
After Li Zhan’s purge of the Inner Attendant Department, many things had to be reorganized and personnel reassigned. Now that Ji Qingzhou was officially Chief Steward, it was his responsibility to take charge.
He spent several days filling the vacant positions and drafted a new work process structure for each division to prevent future incidents of collusion between internal and external forces.
“Have the Ministry of Revenue oversee the Inner Attendant Department’s expenses?” Li Zhan looked at the proposal in surprise.
Ji Qingzhou explained, “I remembered that during the medicinal allotment in Yan Court, officials from the Ministry of Appointments were supervising. That method, although simple, worked fairly well. Since their roles and affiliations don’t usually overlap, it ensured decent oversight.”
If the Ministry of Appointments could create a division just to oversee medicine distribution, then surely the Ministry of Revenue could form one to monitor spending. They were professionals, after all. Their involvement would reduce errors and make it riskier for the Inner Attendant Department to attempt fraud.
“I also separated procurement and treasury functions,” Ji Qingzhou continued. “This way, the two units can monitor each other. Plus, with the Ministry of Revenue involved, if anything goes wrong, everyone would be implicated—so people would naturally be more cautious.”
Li Zhan paused, then looked at Ji Qingzhou. “That would mean… the Inner Attendant Department’s authority would be reduced.”
“Isn’t that exactly why the problems happened in the first place—too much centralized power?” Ji Qingzhou said. “This department oversees the entire palace, and its authority is already considerable. Sharing some of that power isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
Li Zhan was a little surprised. Most officials wanted to consolidate power when they first took office. Ji Qingzhou, on the other hand, was trying to offload responsibility. But then he remembered Ji Qingzhou had said before—he wanted to leave the palace. Naturally, he wouldn’t be hungry for power within it.
“Let’s do it your way,” Li Zhan said. “Draft another document outlining how the Ministry of Revenue should cooperate. I’ll issue the order tomorrow.”
Ji Qingzhou quickly agreed and fetched paper and brush, moving to a side desk to draft the text.
These days, Ji Qingzhou spent nearly every day in Li Zhan’s study. Li Zhan sat at the main desk reviewing memorials, while Ji Qingzhou worked at the side table on his own tasks. The occasional quiet exchange between them made Ji Qingzhou feel like he was working in an office.
As Li Zhan worked, his eyes kept drifting toward the youth. He noticed Ji Qingzhou tugging at his collar now and then, looking uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” Li Zhan asked.
“It’s nothing… Just the heat. The collar’s too tight and it’s itchy,” Ji Qingzhou replied.
It was nearly July, and the capital’s summer was getting hotter by the day. Ji Qingzhou’s robe was ornate and heavy—more stifling than even the red robe he used to wear. Wearing it made him feel stuffy and overheated, so he kept tugging at the neckline for relief.
Li Zhan looked at him and saw red marks on Ji Qingzhou’s pale neck. It was unclear if they were from the collar or if Ji Qingzhou had scratched himself.
“Take it off,” Li Zhan said calmly.
“Huh?” Ji Qingzhou blinked. “That… wouldn’t be proper, would it?”
Li Zhan was his master—how could he appear improperly dressed before him?
“I don’t mind. What are you afraid of?” Li Zhan looked at him with a hint of something awkward in his eyes. “What… do you want me to help you?”
“No need.” Ji Qingzhou saw there was no point in being reserved after Li Zhan put it that way.
After all, Li Zhan had never been a stickler for etiquette. If Ji Qingzhou insisted, he’d only look uptight. Besides, getting to take off the outer robe in this heat was practically a blessing.
He swiftly removed the python robe and was left in a thin inner garment, instantly feeling cooler and more comfortable. Li Zhan glanced at him but didn’t linger. After a moment, he said, “From now on, unless it’s morning court, there’s no need to dress so formally in Yinghui Pavilion. Just keep it casual.”
Is that really allowed? Ji Qingzhou thought happily and immediately agreed.
Without the oppressive heat of his heavy robe, Ji Qingzhou’s work moved quickly. He soon finished drafting the document and brought it to Li Zhan’s desk.
Li Zhan read it carefully, marked a few points with his brush, and said, “Tomorrow, when we discuss this matter, come with me.”
“Yes.” Ji Qingzhou replied. Li Zhan then asked him a few more questions.
Ji Qingzhou stepped closer and pointed out specific items on the document, explaining his reasoning.
Li Zhan’s gaze accidentally landed on Ji Qingzhou’s fair wrist. The youth’s sleeves were rolled high, and he’d forgotten to lower them, exposing a slender forearm. Li Zhan took a deep breath and quickly looked away—only for his eyes to catch the half-open neckline of Ji Qingzhou’s inner garment.
Li Zhan was half a head taller. Standing beside Ji Qingzhou and leaning down, he could see right into the neckline. He instinctively swallowed and turned his eyes away.
“Wang Ye…” Ji Qingzhou was still speaking when he suddenly felt warmth around his neck.
He reached up to touch it—and saw blood on his fingertips.
Startled, he looked up and realized… Li Zhan had a nosebleed.
Li Zhan had noticed too. He wiped at his nose, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
“Wang Ye, sit down first,” Ji Qingzhou had never dealt with this before. He quickly helped Li Zhan sit and used the sleeve of his inner garment to wipe the blood. The snowy white fabric stained with crimson made for a shocking sight. Li Zhan glanced at it and immediately turned his eyes away—his nosebleed seemed to worsen.
Ji Qingzhou hadn’t expected Li Zhan to have such strong qi and blood. As soon as he wiped one drop away, another appeared.
“I’ll go call a physician,” Ji Qingzhou said in alarm.
“No!” Li Zhan instinctively grabbed his wrist, looking visibly awkward. If a physician came and figured out why he had a nosebleed… Li Zhan took a deep breath and decided it was better not to call one.
Ji Qingzhou assumed Li Zhan didn’t want to make a fuss, so he didn’t insist. With no experience himself, he just followed instinct—tilting Li Zhan’s head back and pinching his nose with one hand while wiping away blood with the other.
“I can do it myself…” Li Zhan had never been so humiliated in his life.
But Ji Qingzhou wasn’t reassured. He kept pinching Li Zhan’s nose, reluctant to let go…
At that moment, the door burst open with a bang.
Not long after, the sound of Qin Zheng’s hurried, chaotic footsteps rang out through the room, accompanied by his loud, exaggerated wailing complaints—
“I swear today I’m really going to be screwed over by that bastard from Liang Kingdom—”
Halfway through his sentence, Qin Zheng’s voice came to an abrupt stop.
He stood frozen, staring blankly at the scene in front of him, his brain completely short-circuited for a good while before he finally snapped back to his senses.
In front of him… Li Zhan was sitting in a chair, his head tilted back. His expression was hidden behind Ji Qingzhou, so Qin Zheng couldn’t see it… and Ji Qingzhou, with his clothes disheveled and only wearing his inner garments, stood right in front of Li Zhan, one hand still holding Li Zhan’s face…
This scene, in Qin Zheng’s eyes, could only suggest one thing.
“I-I-I-I… didn’t see a thing!” Qin Zheng exclaimed, his voice cracking. While retreating step by step, he said frantically, “Just keep going, keep going, pretend I’m not here… continue, continue…”
And then he scrambled out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him with a loud bang.
Outside the door, they could vaguely hear him instructing the inner attendants not to disturb them…
Ji Qingzhou: “…”
Li Zhan: “…”
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