I, The Substitute, Am With The Main Character Chapter 77

Xueya had heard of rain rituals. One year, there was a severe drought in his hometown, and it hadn’t rained for over two months. The village elders, who were highly respected, performed a rain ritual. Xueya, unable to witness it himself, heard from a young servant doing rough work in the building that the ritual was very lively, with crowds of people gathering.

At the time, he listened enviously, thinking how wonderful it would be to see the ritual in person one day, never imagining that he would one day be asked to perform the rain ritual himself.

Watching the ritual was one thing; performing it was entirely different. Setting aside everything else, Xueya found the task of successfully bringing rain incredibly difficult. The capital hadn’t seen rain for a long time—how could he possibly succeed?

Moreover, He Xulan had already promised to help him and his mother remove their slave status, and it didn’t require him to do anything.

“Your Majesty, this servant has never performed a rain ritual, nor have I ever seen one. It’s best if Your Majesty finds someone else,” Xueya shook his head and said.

Xueya’s refusal slightly dimmed the smile on Cui Lingjing’s face. His lips pressed into a thin line, and the natural authority of the emperor began to emanate from him.

The rain ritual could no longer be delayed. If it didn’t rain soon, not only would the people’s livelihood suffer, but his war with Lei Qiurong couldn’t continue either. That old man, Lei Qiurong, had deliberately spread rumors blaming the emperor for the drought. With no heir and growing discontent among the ministers, if it didn’t rain soon, even the loyal officials of the previous dynasty would begin to waver.

So, even if Xueya was unwilling, he would have to force him to go.

Cui Lingjing glanced behind him, and two eunuchs immediately stepped forward, standing on either side of Xueya. Startled, Xueya was pulled forward in the next instant.

The two eunuchs seemed to be strong from manual labor, and no matter how hard Xueya struggled, he couldn’t break free. He didn’t understand why Cui Lingjing was so insistent on making him perform the rain ritual. He wanted to call for help, but in the palace, the emperor’s word was absolute—who could he turn to?

If he called for Huang Gonggong at this moment, he would only drag him into trouble.

“Your Majesty, I really can’t do it. Please, Your Majesty, find someone else!” Xueya pleaded as he was dragged away, but Cui Lingjing acted as though he hadn’t heard, striding ahead quickly. The setting sun cast a long shadow behind him.

Xueya was taken to Fengrui Palace, where he met several strangers. One of them, a middle-aged man with a long beard who had an air of mysticism, explained to Xueya what he needed to do for the ritual.

When Xueya learned that he would only be allowed to drink porridge the next day and would have to kneel on the altar until it rained, he immediately wanted to flee from the room.

But the others stopped him from leaving.

Trying to steady himself, Xueya said, “I won’t be able to summon rain. It’s useless for you to put me up there. I… I’ll die up there!” Seeing that no one cared about his words, he raised his voice and called for Cui Lingjing, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Let me out, I don’t want to die! Your Majesty…”

Outside, it was silent; no one responded. The people in the room made Xueya recite prayers for the rain. When Xueya saw the densely packed text of the prayers, he wanted to throw them aside. But this wasn’t Ningfu Palace, and these people weren’t He Xulan—no one here would indulge him.

Xueya was tied to a chair with coarse ropes, forced to listen to prayers he didn’t understand. Unable to comprehend the words, he couldn’t memorize them, and the man teaching him grew increasingly impatient, his face darkening until he finally snapped, “Useless!”

Unable to teach him the prayers, Xueya was dragged to another place. There, his skin was nearly scrubbed raw as the eunuchs forcefully cleaned him, as if he were filth—filth that couldn’t be cleaned enough.

Even the most private areas of his body were scrubbed multiple times with a soft tube.

As Xueya washed, a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. Finally, when it was over, the eunuchs dressed him in a plain white robe with wide sleeves, completely unadorned. Since entering the Red Moon House, Xueya had always worn brightly colored clothes; he had never worn something so plain.

This robe subdued some of the striking beauty and seductive charm in Xueya’s appearance, so much so that when Cui Lingjing entered the room and saw him, he paused in surprise.

Through the mirror, Cui Lingjing saw Xueya’s face, and Xueya saw Cui Lingjing.

Xueya quickly turned his head, still holding onto a faint glimmer of hope. He looked up at Cui Lingjing, his foxy eyes slightly reddened at the corners. The plain robe dulled his radiance but added a touch of fragility and pitifulness.

“Your Majesty, please don’t make me go. Have mercy on me for once serving Your Majesty, and spare me.”

Cui Lingjing placed his hands on Xueya’s shoulders, forcing him to face the mirror.

“I had a platform built in the Beauty Pavilion, surrounded by lakes. I’m just not sure what trees to plant by the lakeside. When you return, tell me what trees you like.”

Xueya bit his lip, trembling all over.

***

The next day came in the blink of an eye.

The day before, Xueya had only been allowed to drink some plain porridge. At dawn, he was stuffed into a soft sedan chair. The chair creaked as it moved forward. Xueya leaned against the side, his face pale, his usually lively eyes now dull.

The altar was a high, round platform, with lotus flowers carved into the tiles. At the center was a large white lotus with nine petals, and around the edge were nine water tanks, each containing a lotus flower. Xueya was dragged to the center of the white lotus and made to kneel, dressed in white with loose hair and no shoes. The middle-aged man who had lectured him on the prayers reappeared; Xueya now knew that he was the chief of the imperial astronomers.

The Chief Astronomer held a white porcelain vessel, dipping lotus petals into the water inside and sprinkling it over Xueya’s head, face, and body. As he sprinkled the water, he muttered something under his breath, speaking quickly.

Xueya couldn’t catch everything he said but heard a few words: “disaster,” “plague,” and “forgiveness.”

He squinted, blinking against the water trickling down his face, and softly asked the Chief Astronomer, “Sir, am I praying for rain because I’m blessed?”

The Chief Astronomer didn’t respond, continuing to chant his words. 

Slowly, Xueya lowered his head, closing his mouth and staying silent. Before leaving, the Chief Astronomer finally condescended to speak to him, though still treating him like worthless wood.

“No, you’re the bringer of disaster. The great drought is because of you. Today, you are on the altar to beg the heavens to forgive your sins.”

Xueya immediately looked up. “I’m not a bringer of disaster! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

But the Chief Astronomer didn’t even glance at him, turning and walking away. Xueya became even angrier, clutching at his robes in frustration.

The palace attendants had set up a temporary canopy next to the altar to provide shade. The Chief Astronomer and his attendants sat beneath it, and even Emperor Cui Lingjing was there, though he only watched for a short while before leaving.

After Cui Lingjing left, the sun became more intense. At first, Xueya managed to keep kneeling, but soon his body couldn’t take it anymore. He pressed his hands against the lotus flowers carved into the tiles to try to stabilize himself, but sweat poured down his face, dripping onto the carved lotus petals.

As the sun climbed higher, Xueya could no longer remain kneeling. He slumped into a sitting position, his vision blurring, and shades of purple and black swirled before his eyes. He stared blankly, then collapsed weakly onto the altar.

Xueya thought he had passed out, but perhaps he hadn’t. He could still hear people telling him to get up, tugging at him, trying to make him kneel properly again. But he simply couldn’t do it—he was so tired, more tired than he had ever felt in his life.

In his hazy state, he saw He Xulan. It felt like a glimmer of hope for life, and with the last bit of strength he had, Xueya grabbed onto He Xulan’s sleeve.

“Brother… Brother, save… save me. I feel so terrible,” he murmured pitifully. “They’re all bullying me.”

Tears streamed down from the corners of his eyes, disappearing into his dark hair.

Gripping He Xulan’s sleeve tightly, Xueya repeated the words he had used to argue with the Chief Astronomer earlier:

“I’m not… a bringer of disaster… I’m… not guilty…”

Then he added,

“Brother, save me.”