Yao Shun sat back down. The execution officers, as was customary, looked at his feet for instructions, but his toes neither pointed outward nor inward—they were crossed like scissors, leaving them uncertain about the Emperor’s hidden intent.
He then slowly drawled, “Proceed—”
The officers understood immediately: this was not a command to “strike harshly” nor “strike carefully,” but rather a subtle hint to go easy. They raised the sticks lightly and delivered the first blow.
Su Yan, with his eyes shut and teeth clenched, was bracing for excruciating pain. But as the first strike landed, it wasn’t as painful as he had imagined. After a few more blows, it felt no worse than when his Father used to smack him with a broomstick handle. He yelped aloud, but inside, he was relieved.
Meanwhile, Embroidered Uniform Guard Commandant Feng Que’s expression grew darker.
According to protocol, each officer would take turns after every ten strokes. He glanced at a subordinate beside him, signaling discreetly. The man, a flag officer, understood immediately. Stepping forward, he took the stick and swung it fiercely, whistling through the air.
The searing pain shot through Su Yan’s entire body as though his scalp was tearing apart, feeling like his skull was being split open. He let out a heart-wrenching scream of agony.
Without a moment to catch his breath, the next strike landed heavily. Su Yan’s body convulsed like a carp tossed into a boiling pot, but the guards held him down tightly.
By the third strike, blood had seeped through both layers of padded garments, staining his robe crimson.
The flag officer, after putting his all into seven or eight strikes, suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder. His strength ebbed, and the stick fell abruptly to the ground. A tiny pearl dropped from his clothing, bouncing into a puddle, indistinguishable among the rain.
Feng Que’s face twisted with fury. A subordinate approached and suggested, “The flag officer is exhausted; allow me to continue.”
Feng Que turned his head to glance and saw Commander Shen Qi. Known for his ruthless methods and rebellious nature, Shen Qi was nicknamed “Life-Taking Qilang” and was someone he often relied on. Feng Que gave a slight nod and said in a low voice, “Make sure he’s beaten to death.”
Shen Qi acknowledged the order, stepped into the courtyard, and took the rod. With a single strike, it snapped in half. He frowned and barked, “Bring me another rod!”
Several officers rushed forward, presenting rods for him to choose from.
Su Yan, his mouth full of blood and his body wracked with pain, was nearly unconscious. Suddenly, he heard a faint voice near his ear: “Endure.”
Startled, Su Yan found the voice familiar. He strained to lift his eyes and caught sight of the hem of a light apricot robe embroidered with a qilin stepping on clouds. The scabbard of a narrow, curved Embroidered Spring Blade glistened, still dripping water.
Before he could process it further, a chilling wind signaled the rod descending again.
Su Yan closed his eyes, bracing for death. His already torn and burning flesh felt as though it were being slashed anew. The new rod struck the same wounds repeatedly. Strangely, he no longer felt the searing pain—whether from numbness or his muscles nearing necrosis, he couldn’t tell. The thought of such a fate filled him with despair, and he finally fainted.
Yao Shun, who had been sipping tea indifferently, was shocked when he saw the ferocity of the beating. The rods fell with terrifying force, and the executioner from the Embroidered Uniform Guard wore a grim, unrelenting expression. His hands trembled, and his teacup fell to the ground with a crash. Grabbing a nearby eunuch, he urgently whispered, “Go tell Lord Feng that this is too harsh—it’ll cause serious trouble!”
When Feng Que received the message, he simply brushed off his sleeves and responded with a cold smile.
Yao Shun felt as though ice water had been poured over him. He recalled the look Lan Xi had given him before leaving and suddenly realized he was caught in a power struggle, with no control over his own fate. His limbs shook, and his face turned ashen.
After fifty strikes, Shen Qi threw aside the rod and approached Feng Que. In a low voice, he reported, “It’s done.” It was unclear whether he meant the punishment or the man’s life.
Feng Que cast a cold glance at the lifeless figure in the courtyard and said, “Let’s go.”
The group of Embroidered Uniform Guard left swiftly and without a trace. Yao Shun, gasping for breath, could only point shakily at the figure on the ground, nearly fainting from panic. One of his trusted eunuchs hurriedly knelt to check for signs of life. Feeling a faint breath, he spun around and shouted, “He’s alive! He’s still breathing!”
Yao Shun’s taut nerves finally relaxed. Letting out a long sigh, he collapsed into his chair, limp.
***
Su Yan groaned weakly and slowly regained consciousness. A strong medicinal scent filled his nose.
He found himself lying on his stomach on a couch, disoriented. As he tried to move his stiff body, waves of pain surged through him, forcing a cry from his lips.
The door creaked open, and a young boy in plain green robes entered, carrying a basin of hot water. His delicate features lit up with joy. “Master, you’re awake!”
Focusing his vision, Su Yan recognized the boy as Su Xiaobei, his newly acquired servant. Originally named Deshun, Su Yan had given him a new name. It seemed he had returned home.
“Xiaobei, how long have I been asleep?”
Su Xiaobei wrung out a towel and began wiping Su Yan’s sweat, muttering, “Master, you were unconscious for two full days. The eunuchs from the palace carried you back on a soft couch. You were completely unresponsive. It scared me half to death! Fortunately, they had already called for a doctor to treat your wounds and apply medicine. They said it was a miracle none of your bones were broken. With a month of rest, you should recover.”
Su Yan sighed. “I knew this ordeal would be painful, but I didn’t expect it to be this dangerous. I nearly lost my life.”
Su Xiaobei comforted him, “Master, after surviving such a disaster, great fortune must await you. For now, the most important thing is to focus on healing.”
He carefully lifted the thin quilt and began removing Su Yan’s trousers to apply medicine. But when he saw the once pale skin now black and blue, covered in blood-seeping gashes, he gasped. His hands trembled so much that he couldn’t proceed.
Su Yan forced a smile, saying, “I’m the one who got beaten and I’m not shaking. What are you shaking for? Just apply the medicine as you should.”
Su Xiaobei bit his lip tightly, about to speak when another servant boy in a blue robe burst in, shouting, “Brother Bei, there’s someone outside named Fu Bao who insists on seeing the lord. He looks all weird, neither man nor woman—” Suddenly realizing that Su Yan was awake, he quickly bowed his head and stammered, “My lord…”
Su Xiaobei scolded in a low voice, “You scatterbrained fool, always making a fuss. One day, you’ll get yourself into trouble, and it’ll be your own fault!”
Su Yan said, “Forget it. Xiaojing, go invite that person in.”
Su Xiaojing agreed and dashed off. Su Xiaobei added, “My lord, if we servants ever misbehave, you should discipline us properly. In other households, he’d at least get slapped for something like that.”
Su Yan replied, “That’s in other households. We don’t have those rules here. Besides, I’m not one to manage things much, and you’re capable. Why don’t you just be my steward from now on?”
Su Xiaobei glanced at him, pulled up the thin blanket, and mumbled, “You’re joking, my lord. I’m far too young to be a steward.”
Before long, the visitor arrived—it was Fu Bao, a close attendant of the Crown Prince. As soon as he saw Su Yan, his eyes welled up. “Lord Su, thank goodness you’re alright. His Highness nearly skinned me alive in his worry…”
Su Yan signaled for Su Xiaobei to leave, then asked softly, “Is His Highness alright?”
“The young master has been confined to the Eastern Palace. He only found out yesterday and tried to rush out. I had no choice but to repeat your words from before, and thankfully it calmed him down. He sent me here with some medicine to check on you.” Fu Bao took out several bottles and jars from his robe and placed them on the table.
Su Yan chuckled, “Do I really need all this medicine just for my beaten backside?”
Fu Bao snickered, “You didn’t see how frantic the young master was, yelling at the imperial physicians left and right like a demon—” Realizing he had spoken out of turn, he quickly covered his mouth.
Su Yan sighed, “The Emperor is truly angry this time, and His Highness will have to endure. I won’t be able to move for at least a month. Go back and advise His Highness to calm down, put away his playthings, and focus on his studies. Tell him it’s my request.”
Fu Bao nodded repeatedly, then Su Yan said, “Come closer, I have more to ask of you.” Sensing something serious, Fu Bao leaned in to hear Su Yan whisper, “When you return to the Eastern Palace, discreetly find out who has visited recently—whether from the Needlework Bureau, the Imperial Kitchens, or any other palace department. Report back to me. If anyone comes to the Eastern Palace on business, make sure you keep a close eye on them and don’t let them act alone.”
Fu Bao was momentarily stunned, then shivered. “Understood, Lord Su.”
Seeing Fu Bao’s sharpness, Su Yan gave a faint smile, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then sent him back to the palace.
After pondering quietly for a moment, Su Yan called Su Xiaobei back to apply the medicine. However, just as his robe was opened, another visitor arrived—it was the newly appointed top scholar, Cui Jinping.
Su Yan invited him in, mustering his strength to chat briefly. Cui Jinping offered his sympathies and left a bottle of ointment before taking his leave.
Exhausted, Su Yan sighed. He hadn’t realized how draining social interactions could be, and as he was feeling drowsy, two or three more people came with medicine.
Once peace returned, he was too tired to keep his eyes open. He instructed Su Xiaobei, “Don’t apply the medicine now; let me rest a while. If anyone else comes, take what they bring and send them away.”
Su Xiaobei agreed, and Su Yan fell into a deep sleep.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard someone softly calling from the corridor, “My lord, my lord…”
Su Yan, still groggy, felt a surge of irritation and snapped, “What’s all the shouting for? It’s just a battered backside—what’s there to see? Send them all away!”
There was a moment of silence outside before the door quietly opened. Su Yan, face buried in his pillow, heard a rich voice say, “Getting this angry? Even driving this royalty away?”
The voice washed over him like warm spring water, tingling all the way to his fingertips.
Su Yan jolted awake and looked up to see Yu Wang, Zhu Xujing, seated at the table, playing with a bottle of medicine and gazing at him with a faint smile.
“My apologies, Wangye,” Su Yan said, struggling to rise.
Yu Wang quickly stepped forward, stopping him. “Don’t move; be mindful of your wounds.” He then sat on the edge of the bed.
Su Yan, drained and weary, laid back on the pillow.
Seeing Su Yan’s pallor and pale lips, Yu Wang sighed, “Such a refined and exquisite person, and my royal brother could bear to do this? It’s heartbreaking. If you were by my side, I’d treat you like a treasure, afraid you’d break in my hand or melt in my mouth—I wouldn’t dare to neglect you for a moment.”
Su Yan felt a chill run through him. He thought about how many people had heard such words from this man, and he felt as though he had swallowed something rancid. Fighting back nausea, he forced a smile. “You jest, Wangye. I failed in my duties and disappointed His Majesty. To be spared with just this minor punishment is a great mercy.”
Yu Wang leaned in closer. “You are grateful for my royal brother’s punishment, but you never appreciate my concern.”
Su Yan shrank toward the wall, forcing a smile through gritted teeth. “I am grateful for Wangye’s kindness and will visit Wangye’s residence to express my thanks once I recover.”
Yu Wang smiled contentedly and reached to pull back the blanket. “Let me take a look at your wounds.”
