The Daily Life of a Depressed Salted Fish Chapter 105

Mother Yin found it very strange.

Because Yin Wuzhi was actually watching a palace drama with her.

Arms crossed, frowning, he critiqued as he watched, “What’s with this palace maid pretending to be pitiful? Fainting while kneeling—this is obviously just a ploy to seduce someone.”

Mother Yin: “That palace maid is the protagonist.”

Yin Wuzhi: “What kind of imperial consort is this? Clinging to the emperor—did she even get the empress’s permission first?”

Mother Yin: “…She’s the emperor’s noble consort.”

Yin Wuzhi: “What arrogance from this maid. If the empress weren’t so kind, she would’ve had her executed already.”

Mother Yin looked alarmed. “The empress is the antagonist.”

“A palace maid daring to mess around with the emperor, even pointing fingers at the empress—such insolence. The empress punishing her a little—how does that make her the villain? Isn’t it justified?”

“But she’s domineering and jealous, which the emperor doesn’t like.”

“Why can’t the empress be domineering and jealous? Can’t she manage her own husband? This emperor, running around flirting everywhere, is disgraceful—a scumbag! If he doesn’t cherish the empress he married, of course she’d be possessive. And this female lead—her family’s downfall at the hands of the empress’s family only proves they weren’t very smart. Deserved it. Plus, this female lead is dumb as a rock. Trips over nothing, doesn’t think to seek shelter from the rain, gets PTSD from sleeping in a cave… And she’s two-faced with the emperor and empress while being ambiguously involved with a guard. On top of that, she’s of no benefit to the emperor. Does this emperor have a hole in his head?”

He flung the remote down angrily. “What nonsense! I’m done watching this!”

Mother Yin: “….”

Who told you to watch it in the first place!

Father Yin picked up the remote and muttered after Yin Wuzhi stormed upstairs, “What’s wrong with him? Did he eat gunpowder?”

“Maybe the entrance exams didn’t go well?”

“No, he performed normally—ranked first in his grade again.” After the fiasco during the high school entrance exams, the Yin parents had been paying extra attention to his grades.

“Strange,” Mother Yin said as she checked the remote for damage. “He never used to watch these dramas with me. Why’s he suddenly into this empress character and even cursed out the emperor?”

Father Yin speculated, “Is it adolescence? Maybe he’s thinking about romance?”

“When you were a teenager, did you fall for empress types?”

“No, I liked your type.”

While the parents shared sweet words downstairs, Yin Wuzhi, after a violently thorough shower, flopped onto his bed.

He pulled out his phone and started researching stories about the emperors and empresses of the Xia Dynasty.

Due to many historical documents still being restored, it was unclear whether Jiang Wu had any consorts other than Empress Yin in this newly discovered history.

Wearing pajamas, Yin Wuzhi opened his curtains and looked toward Jiang Wu’s room across the street.

Picking up his phone, he called Jiang Wu.

Jiang Wu was already lying in bed. Groggily, he reached for his smartwatch and answered in a muffled voice, “Hello?”

Yin Wuzhi said, “I want to see you.”

After realizing that he was Empress Yin, reincarnated alongside Jiang Wu, Yin Wuzhi had accepted it without much inner turmoil. He didn’t even question why two boys were together—it just felt natural.

Jiang Wu, confused, repeated, “See me?”

“Yes, come to your window.”

Dragging himself out of bed, Jiang Wu opened his curtains and locked eyes with Yin Wuzhi.

Yin Wuzhi felt a little better and asked, “Have you found your empress at your new school?”

“I have.”

“Who is it?”

Separated by a street, Jiang Wu slumped onto the sofa by his bed. He didn’t know that Yin Wuzhi had already figured out his identity as the empress. Feeling a bit down, he replied, “Why are you asking that out of nowhere?”

“I can help you pursue them.”

“But high school students aren’t allowed to date.”

Yin Wuzhi frowned. “It’s not strictly forbidden. I was just worried you’d fall for the wrong person before. But now… I’ve observed everyone at our school, and they’re all pretty decent. I think it’s fine.”

Jiang Wu, puzzled, said, “You said before you’d tell my mom.”

“…I won’t.”

Jiang Wu suddenly had a realization. “Yin Wuzhi, do you like someone?”

Yin Wuzhi: “….”

“You’re offering to help me because you want me to keep your secret, right?”

“No, Jiang Wu, listen to me…”

Before he could explain, the call ended.

Jiang Wu’s worldview felt shattered—this was even worse than discovering his ex-boyfriend wet the bed.

He had been waiting for Yin Wuzhi to grow up so they could like each other, but now Yin Wuzhi had someone else.

Scoundrel.

Yin Wuzhi ran downstairs in his pajamas. The TV was playing a scene where the emperor punished the empress for the female lead. Yin Wuzhi felt his chest tighten and cursed, “Trash emperor!”

Mother Yin: “.”

Father Yin asked, “Where are you going?”

Without turning back, Yin Wuzhi ran to Jiang Wu’s house. After greeting Jiang Wu’s parents, he went upstairs and knocked. “Jiang Wu? Jiang Wu?”

Hearing no response, he opened the door.

Jiang Wu was sprawled on the sofa, arms stretched out in front. Yin Wuzhi walked over, scooped him up, and sat down with Jiang Wu on his lap.

Jiang Wu looked lifeless, his eyes dull like a puppet’s.

“I swear, I don’t like anyone else,” Yin Wuzhi said.

“Then why would you keep my secret?” Jiang Wu replied, still certain. “You’re not that nice.”

“I swear, if I ever like someone else, may I be struck by lightning—”

“Shut up,” Jiang Wu interrupted.

Yin Wuzhi pursed his lips, feeling a little disappointed. In TV dramas, when the male lead swore an oath to the female lead, he would always dramatically cover her mouth. Why was Jiang Wu giving him orders instead?

Jiang Wu, looking dejected, said, “Why did you suddenly believe what I said?”

“Because I recently watched a reincarnation drama, and I thought… it’s kind of sad for someone with memories of a past life not to be remembered by others. I…” He ruffled Jiang Wu’s hair roughly. “I just felt bad for you, okay?”

Jiang Wu still looked glum.

“Do you want to tell me who he was? What he looked like? What he liked? Maybe I can help you,” Yin Wuzhi offered.

Something about the suggestion felt off to Jiang Wu, but his current despondence made it hard to figure out why.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t approach him with lingering feelings for someone else. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“So… do you really like him because of those lingering feelings for someone else?”

Jiang Wu lowered his lashes. “I have these memories. It’s hard to distinguish between them, and I honestly don’t know what to do.”

Yin Wuzhi ruffled his hair again.

Soon, Jiang Wu dozed off on his lap. He always fell asleep quickly when he was upset. Yin Wuzhi frowned, carefully moved him to the bed, pulled up the blanket, and sat there for a while.

He couldn’t help but mind. That person had lived in an entirely different era, receiving an education unlike his own, with habits and a lifestyle that must have been worlds apart. Surely, the “him” from back then and the “him” now were fundamentally different.

As he left the Jiang house, a sudden thought struck Yin Wuzhi—hadn’t he wanted to find out about Emperor Jiang Wu’s past?

So, did historical Jiang Wu have any concubines?

Bored, Yin Wuzhi scrolled through his phone, only for a news story to pop up: A man duped in pursuit of his reincarnated soulmate.

Asking Jiang Wu outright whether his past self had concubines wouldn’t work—facing “his Empress,” Jiang Wu would definitely lie. He needed a different approach.

Yin Wuzhi registered a new WeChat account under the name Wandering Hermit and posted in the blank space of his new Moments feed:

“Follow this account for a free reading of your past and present lives! Want to know what happened in your previous life? Wondering if your love will transcend time? Follow now for a free assessment!”

Then he shared it using Jiang Wu’s main account, visible only to Jiang Wu.

For three days, the dummy account received no friend requests.

Unable to resist, Yin Wuzhi quietly added it himself using Jiang Wu’s phone.

That evening, Jiang Wu received a WeChat message.

Wandering Hermit: “Hello, I’m your guide to uncovering your past and present lives. I heard you have questions you’d like to ask?”

Jiang Wu stared at the message, confused, and didn’t respond.

Yin Wuzhi, unwilling to give up, sent another message. “I heard you can see your past life?”

Still no response.

Wandering Hermit: “A friend of yours used your account to contact me. He thought I could help you.”

Finally, Jiang Wu replied, “Who?”

Wandering Hermit: “His surname is Yin.”

Jiang Wu: “.”

How bored must Yin Wuzhi have been to secretly use his account to add someone like this? Jiang Wu clicked into the profile and scanned the messages. Judging by the content, this person might actually be a fortune teller.

He checked Yin Wuzhi’s Moments and saw that he had indeed posted similar advertisements.

Jiang Wu typed slowly: “What can you help me with?”

Yin Wuzhi stifled a laugh. As expected, Jiang Wu saw him differently.

His fingers flew across the keyboard: “Your friend said he wanted to help you reconnect with your past and present love, but you refused. He hopes I can assist you in finding out whether your lover still loves you.”

Too lazy to type, Jiang Wu switched to voice messages. “What do you need?”

“Your birth date and time.”

Jiang Wu, born sixteen years ago on September 16, input the details and asked, “Do you charge?”

“Your friend has already paid.”

Jiang Wu patiently waited for the results. Soon, the reply came:

“Unbelievable! The two of you are so fated that you’re destined to grow old together in this life. Your lover still loves you deeply!”

Jiang Wu’s eyes lit up slightly. He sent a voice message: “Really?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “But before helping you pursue your lover, I need to know more about your past life. My abilities aren’t strong enough to divine the specifics. Would you mind sharing?”

How odd.

Jiang Wu was even more confused. Why was Yin Wuzhi suddenly so eager to help him pursue someone? He used to seem completely against it. But Yin Wuzhi had sworn he didn’t have anyone else he liked, nor did he have any secrets he needed Jiang Wu to help him keep.

What kind of situation would make Yin Wuzhi willing to help him pursue his past-life lover?

If it wasn’t some sort of trade-off, the only explanation was that Yin Wuzhi knew who that person was, had evaluated them, and genuinely thought they were a good match for Jiang Wu.

Jiang Wu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as he opened the chat with the wandering fortune-teller Yin Wuzhi had introduced him to. The username was a string of garbled characters, as if it had been chosen carelessly.

Business people these days were really so casual.

Jiang Wu glanced at the message Yin Wuzhi had forwarded again. There were no likes or comments, which was strange—normally, Yin Wuzhi’s parents would scold him for indulging in such superstitious behavior.

He messaged his mom, Chang Jinwen:
“Mom, can you check the first post on Yin Wuzhi’s social media timeline for me? What’s it about?”

She quickly replied, “Isn’t it a photo of you two eating in the cafeteria?”

Jiang Wu: “.”

He reexamined the chat history with the fortune-teller. 

At first glance, the person seemed to want to help him uncover his past-life lover, but their words weren’t convincing at all, like random nonsense. They didn’t even follow proper fortune-telling rules, like comparing birth charts.

The fortune-teller kept talking about helping him pursue someone but seemed more focused on probing into his past life.

Who would care so much about his past life?

Yin Wuzhi tossed and turned on the bed for 20 minutes before receiving a voice message from Jiang Wu: “How exactly are you planning to help me?”

Yin Wuzhi’s heartbeat quickened. At this rate, the thin barrier between them was about to break, and he’d officially become Emperor Jiang Wu’s empress.

He pinched his reddened ear, trying to calm down. It was time to assert his authority as the empress. With a stern expression, he typed:  “I need to confirm your relationship with the empress first. Do you really like him?”

Jiang Wu stared at the word him and replied, “Yes.”

Yin Wuzhi’s heartbeat accelerated. He pressed on: “Did you love him that much in your past life too?”

“Yes.”

“You’re always saying how good the empress was to you. But what about you? How did you treat him?”

“I loved him very much.” Jiang Wu spoke into his phone, his tone serious. “I only loved him.”

Yin Wuzhi’s ears were practically smoking.

Jiang Wu was confessing to him. He was about to faint.

If he’d known this earlier, he would’ve asked in person.

No, wait. He needed to make sure Jiang Wu wasn’t some scumbag like those TV dramas.

Steadying himself, Yin Wuzhi typed: “As an emperor, did you have concubines?”

A pause.

Yin Wuzhi couldn’t help but prod: “Answer me. Quickly.” Realizing this might come off too harsh, he deleted it and retyped:

 “Is this question difficult to answer?”

“A little.”

Yin Wuzhi exploded: “You had concubines and still dare to say you loved him?!”

“I understand that from a modern perspective, my actions might seem wrong,” Jiang Wu said calmly, “but historically, which emperor didn’t have multiple wives? Of course, I had a few concubines. In addition to them, I also had some male consorts. They were all very good to me too.”

An empress and male consorts? Truly, emperors were all rotten to the core.

Yin Wuzhi’s mood darkened. He stared gloomily at his phone.

He replayed Jiang Wu’s voice messages.

 First: “I loved him very much. I only loved him.”

 Then: “In addition to concubines, I also had some male consorts. They were all very good to me.”

A new voice message arrived. Jiang Wu said:

 “I married them purely for political reasons to stabilize the court. I didn’t love them at all. My heart has always belonged to the empress.”

Yin Wuzhi’s teeth clenched so tightly they could’ve cracked. He furiously typed: “You’re just a scumbag.”

Jiang Wu saw the message and replied calmly: “But that was all in the past. In this life, I will follow the law and honor monogamy.”

“A scumbag never truly changes.”

“I know what I did was wrong, but I really only loved the empress.”

Yin Wuzhi felt like his frustration was boiling over. He’d thought Jiang Wu was too lazy to be a scumbag, but now it seemed his laziness was just the remnant of his imperial past—used to being waited on hand and foot.

“You’re the modern-day Hong Shixian—fully aware of your scumbaggery yet still shameless.”

“I know I let him down, but I had no choice. I had a throne to inherit. I needed a son.”

Yin Wuzhi’s face twisted in anger.

Typical excuses from men.

Even with a throne at stake, treating women as tools for childbirth and betraying his true love was despicable.

He never imagined that beneath Jiang Wu’s doll-like, adorable exterior lay such a filthy, feudal heart.

“Master,” Jiang Wu asked, “you’ll keep this a secret, right? You won’t tell a second person?”

Yin Wuzhi, feeling green with rage, typed: “Of course not.”

“Thank you, Master.”

After putting down his phone, Jiang Wu lay quietly for a moment, then messaged Yin Wuzhi:
“Are you awake?”

Switching to his main account, Yin Wuzhi saw the message and tossed his phone aside.

Jiang Wu sent another: “The fortune-teller you recommended is great. He said I can win my empress back, and I want to try.”

Yin Wuzhi glanced at the screen and threw the phone again.

Scumbag. This empress won’t be yours in this lifetime.

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