In the winter of the twenty-fourth year of the Xining era, Emperor Hui of Liang passed away. Prince Ying Wujiu of Beiling returned to the capital from his fiefdom in the northwest, took control of the imperial palace, and established the Zhenghong era. 

In the first year of the Zhenghong era, tensions in the court were running high. At that moment, a secret imperial edict from the late emperor—sparing the life of Rong Zhihuan, a major pest within the Grand Secretariat—suddenly came to light, plunging the situation into even deeper chaos. 

Inside the Qide Hall.

The Director of the Imperial Observatory prostrated himself on the ground and cried out, “This humble servant has observed the celestial sphere and seen the radiance of Mars gradually waning. Furthermore, I have witnessed an auspicious aura enveloping the North Star, its benevolent light persisting throughout the night. This is indeed an omen of harmony among all nations!” 

Several intricately carved rosewood lattice windows facing due north stood wide open in the hall. The Emperor, clad in a black ceremonial robe embroidered with gold thread, was now leisurely stirring the incense burner before the lattice windows.

“Mars is gradually receding?” 

The man’s voice was deep and rich, yet his tone was even and languid; after uttering these four words, he bowed his head and gently blew on the incense ash.

Cold sweat trickled down the back of the Director of the Imperial Observatory, and once again, a thunderous cry rang out from the floor: “We humbly beseech Your Majesty’s mercy; the heavens bestow auspicious signs in response to Your Holy Rule!” 

The man’s hand holding the copper rod did not pause; it was a long time before he finally said, “You may withdraw.” 

The Director, already soaked in cold sweat, had not dared to raise his head from start to finish; he knelt and backed away.

But if he had looked up, he would have seen that the emperor standing by the latticed window bore a winding scar running from his neck to the side of his face—a chilling sight, as if imbued with the blood and violence of the battlefield. 

Yet the man’s features were so deep-set and handsome that they actually lent the scar a certain beauty.

“Li Yan.”

A personal guard emerged from the shadows like a phantom, bowing his head to the ground: “Your servant is here.” The “benevolent” emperor, blessed by heavenly auspices, spoke.

“Within three days, I want to see the Prince of Qi’s head fall from the southeast right before Rong Zhihuan’s eyes.”

……

……

“Lord Rong, Lord Rong”

“Lord Rong, are you still listening?”

Rong Shuang’s vision spun dizzyingly, and a pair of jet-black hands fluttered back and forth before his eyes like chaff.

“Lord Rong? Lord Rong?”

Rong Shuang let out a dry retch. 

“Oh my! Wh—why are you throwing up??” 

Rong Shuang’s face turned pale as he retched: “Stop… stop…”

“Stop the palanquin! Stop the palanquin!”

He heard the coachman outside let out a long “Whoa!” and the jolting beneath him gradually subsided.

Just as Rong Shuang was finally starting to recover a little, the person across from him pulled out an incense burner and began fanning it, waving his hand back and forth right under Rong Shuang’s nose.

“Lord Rong, this is the finest sandalwood and agarwood. One whiff dispels all ailments; a second whiff…” 

Before he could finish, Rong Shuang let out another wail.

 “……”

“Man, I’m begging you…” he said weakly. 

Those of us who get carsick can’t stand this smell. 

He clung to whatever was nearby and staggered down the hill; before the members of the Rong family’s entourage could even bend down to offer him a stool, he had already plopped down on the curb. 

Sigh—

Inhale—

Inhale—

Exhale—

No matter what you’re doing, take deep breaths anytime, anywhere—that’s the secret to a long life. 

He’s alive. 

The clatter and clamor of the city reached his ears. Rong Shuang adjusted his heavy, bright red official robe, wiped the corner of his eye, and gazed out at the bustling, crowded street scene. “No way, what on earth am I doing here?” 

Another person from the carriage had followed him down and was now trembling with fear beside him: “Lord Rong, you… you don’t think that’s too little, do you?”

Rong Shuang finally noticed him; the man’s face was so dark it could reflect the sunlight. “What… what was your name again?”

Xiao Hei was startled: “This humble official is Meng Han!” 

Rong Shuang’s thoughts: Meng Han.

Rong Shuang’s mouth: “Oh, Meng Hei.” 

Meng Han: “……” 

Rong Shuang didn’t have time to deal with this piece of charcoal in front of him just yet; he was still thinking about what had happened before he arrived here. He remembered he didn’t have any classes tonight, so as soon as he left school, he headed straight to the supermarket—because they were having a sale on products nearing their expiration dates, and there were discounted eggs for orders over 99. 

What happened next?

Since he was on good terms with the lady at the supermarket, she pulled some strings and sold him two jin of eggs at a discounted price—he only spent five yuan in total!!! Then he went home, and just as he was heading upstairs, he got hit over the head with a club.

“……”

“Damn!!!”

His eggs!!! 

Rong Shuang stood up, clenching his fists. A man may be killed, but he must not be wasted—those were two jin of eggs, after all! Do you think it’s easy for a hen to lay that many eggs?! 

Meng Han was thoroughly startled by the young Senior Grand Secretary standing before him and stammered as he continued: “Flower… flower…”

Fuck!

Rong Shuang was still furious: “ Fuck! ” 

Meng Han continued reading: “Hua!” 

Rong Shuang: “???”

Where did this genius come from??

He patted his butt and stood up, his stomach growling loudly, and everything went black again. Damn it, why is this body even weaker than he was? 

“Steamed buns! Big, fragrant, white steamed buns!” 

Rong Shuang staggered unsteadily for a moment, then waved and called out, “Meng Hei, what did you want to talk to me about just now? Tell me again.” He paused, then added, “Go into detail—every single detail. Don’t leave out a single thing.”

Meng Han glanced at the bustling crowd around him and thought to himself, Should I really be discussing this kind of thing right here on the street?

But since the Senior Grand Secretary—who was renowned for his wisdom—had decided to do this, there must be a reason behind it, and outsiders had no right to interfere. He nodded repeatedly: “This official obeys, this official obeys!” 

Meng Han leaned close to his ear and murmured softly.

Rong Shuang was starving to death and shuffled over to the steamed bun stall: “How much is one?”

The steamed bun vendor replied with trembling respect: “Oh my, Your Excellency, my buns are one wen each, but if you’d like one, Your Excellency, it’s on the house.”

Rong Shuang’s eyes finally lit up. Wonderful!

Steamed buns here cost just one wen each!

He waved his hand and said sternly, “How can you eat without paying? That just doesn’t make sense.”

He looked down and rummaged through his pockets—searching and searching—but after a long while, he still couldn’t find his money pouch. Meng Han quickly handed him a coin.

Rong Shuang hovered in midair as he pondered for a long moment: “Ah, never mind. You seem like a decent person. I’ll owe you this one wen—I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

He took the steamed bun and turned to leave. Meng Han hurried after him: “Your Excellency Rong, you truly flatter this humble official. It is my good fortune to serve you. Is one steamed bun enough for you? Why not come with me to the Drunken Immortal Restaurant for a proper meal?”

Rong Shuang replied without a moment’s hesitation: “No way, no way. It sounds ridiculously expensive just from the name.” 

Meng Han had no choice but to let it go.

Rong Shuang tucked the steamed bun, wrapped in oil paper, into his hand and began eating it bite by bite, munching away. His wide sleeves slipped below his elbows, revealing two arms so white they were almost blinding. 

This body was too pale, too thin—its bones sharp and defined, with pale purple veins faintly visible.

Meng Han covered his mouth and muttered under his breath, “Lord Rong, this official knows that Minister Zhao Gongyan of the Ministry of Civil Appointments is on good terms with you.” 

Rong Shuang didn’t quite grasp the implication behind his words; he was enjoying his steamed buns so much that he just mumbled a few “mms” in response.

“It’s good that you remember. Tomorrow, I’ll deliver that treasure to your residence.” 

Rong Shuang stopped chewing his steamed bun: “What treasure? How much money?”

Meng Han lowered his voice even further: “Three… hundred… taels… of… gold…”

Rong Shuang: “?”

“HOW MUCH?!!!”

“You said HOW MUCH?!!!”

“What kind of treasure costs three hundred taels of gold??!!”

Do you even know how much gold costs per gram right now??!!

Meng Han was so frightened he nearly fainted dead away, frantically waving his hands: “Ouch, Lord Rong, Lord Rong, please keep your voice down!”

Rong Shuang put two and two together and finally realized—this piece of charcoal is going to spend money to buy an official position for a family member!!!

Meng Han was so startled he nearly fell backward, frantically waving his hands: “Oh my, Lord Rong! Lord Rong, please keep your voice down!” After a moment’s thought, Rong Shuang finally realized what was going on—this block of charcoal was meant to pay for official positions for his family!!! 

“You, you, you, you, you, you!”

“You have a corrupt heart!!! You have no sense of shame!! You’re a disgrace to the imperial court!!” 

Meng Han was completely dumbfounded, and his heart was pounding like a cricket.

Wasn’t the most corrupt official in the entire Great Liang Dynasty standing right in front of him? Who could possibly be more corrupt than you, Rong Zhihuan? Even the dog you keep at home wears two thick gold chains—you’re the very embodiment of extravagance, debauchery, and corruption. How dare you say that to me! 

But Meng Han dared not speak, merely begging for mercy.

Rong Shuang was in a manic rage: “I’ll make a note of this single coin. I’ll pay you back tomorrow. This matter must not be mentioned again today. If you bring it up again, I’ll… I’ll report you to His Majesty and have you beheaded.”

He strode quickly over to the Rong family’s palanquin.

“Yueeeee~~” 

Hugging a strand of hair, the scene stirred up some emotions.

He immediately turned back to the donkeys lined up by the roadside and approached the owner to negotiate.

“How much for a ride on this donkey?” 

“Where are you headed, Your Excellency?”

“Back to the Rong Mansion.”

“Oh my, Lord Rong! Ugh, Lord Rong, this… this, this, this… Just give this humble servant two wen.” Rong Shuang mounted his donkey, then turned back and muttered a curse over his shoulder: “Did you hear that?! I’ll exterminate nine generations of your clan!” 

Meng Han fell to his knees with a thud. 

Heavenly Grandfather, no one had told him before he came that this great woodworm was so upright! 

Rong Shuang rode a small donkey with grayish-white fur, followed by an eight-man palanquin. The coachmen, attendants carrying stools, and a group of guards trailed behind, walking nervously and exchanging glances from time to time.

– What’s wrong with Lord Rong?

– No idea 

– Lord Rong never walks a single step—today is nothing short of a miracle! 

– That’s right, that’s right!

A miracle—Rong Shuang was deep in thought.

He’s been transported to another world, but he doesn’t yet know which dynasty he’s in.

However, judging from the lines written on that piece of charcoal, he can roughly deduce that this body also bears the surname Rong and holds the position of Senior Grand Secretary of the Grand Secretariat in the current dynasty. There are countless people trying to curry favor with him—for instance, right now, someone has resorted to underhanded means to buy an official post. 

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Little Donkey: “Ah—uh—ah—uh—” 

Rong Shuang, ever the model citizen, patted the donkey on the head: “Keep it down—you’re disturbing the peace!” 

The people following behind him all shuddered in unison. 

Rong Shuang was riding his little donkey back to the manor; before he even arrived, the news had already spread like wildfire. By the time he got there, a huge crowd had gathered at the gate.

“Welcome home, Your Excellency!” 

“Welcome home, Your Excellency!”

The servants of the Rong Manor were all fresh-faced and beautiful, dressed in fine silk and brocade, standing at the entrance of the majestic and magnificent mansion to welcome him. 

Before Rong Shuang had even dismounted from the donkey, someone knelt at his feet to spread a soft fox-fur rug, while another attendant from his entourage knelt beside the sedan chair and then moved to the right side of the donkey.

Rong Shuang accidentally bumped into the man with his foot and gave a start.

“Hey, wait a minute—get up, buddy.”

A “model young man” from the 21st century had never witnessed such a scene of extravagance; he hurriedly jumped down from the other side, stumbled a few steps, then suddenly remembered something.

“Um, butler! Butler!”

The elderly man leading the group bowed as he approached: “My lord.”

Rong Shuang: “I rented this donkey for two wen. I didn’t bring any money with me—could you cover the cost for me?” 

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

He had barely taken two steps when another sedan chair, sent from the mansion to meet him, had already stopped in front of him. A youth who looked like a servant called out, “Sir, please step into the sedan chair. Breakfast has already been prepared.” 

Rong Shuang’s eyes widened in shock again. Did he really need to ride in a sedan chair for just a few steps back to the mansion? 

No wonder this body is in such poor condition!

He waved his hand. “I’ll walk back—it’s not that far, is it? You guys can all go ahead and leave.”

A group of pretty servants exchanged glances, unsure how to react. After a moment of stunned silence, they watched as the young man, holding his official robe in both hands, ran off with a clatter of footsteps. 

“Oh my, Your Excellency!”

“Your Excellency! Your Excellency!” 

“Your Excellency, please wait!”

Seeing the Senior Grand Secretary act so unusually upon returning from court, they all sensed that the Rong family’s fortunes were about to take a turn for the worse. With tears in their voices, they were all reluctant to part with the glory and wealth before them.

Meanwhile, Rong Shuang entered the mansion and was nearly blinded by its splendor.

He suddenly understood why he’d been carried in a palanquin—this estate was simply enormous. The distance he’d ridden his donkey today from the East Market back to the mansion might not even have been as long as the path from the main gate to his quarters. 

A vast estate spanning three avenues, five courtyards, and a thousand mu, with open corridors stretching to the roof ridges and lakes connected by walkways—so opulent it made one lose all sense of the world. 

The number of servants and guards in the estate was beyond count; by Rong Shuang’s rough estimate, he’d seen over a hundred just on his way back. And when he saw what was called “breakfast,” Rong Shuang’s vision went black.

What kind of household serves 88 dishes for one person’s breakfast?! 

Steamed buns at the market cost just one cash each—this spread must have cost at least dozens of taels of silver! Rong Shuang: “(pinching my philtrum jpg)” 

Damn the extravagance of the wealthy! Aaaaaaargh!

The Rong family’s steward, seeing his pale face, hurried over to support him, wiping away tears as he asked, “Sir, what’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? Rong Shuang’s blood pressure is now 140/90.

He remained silent for a long time, then turned and asked a question that cut straight to his heart.

“People, am I a corrupt official?” 

Butler: “……”

Personal attendant: “……” 

Other servants: “……” 

Rong Shuang: “……”

Haha. 

Corrupt officials aren’t completely useless—at least they can serve as cautionary tales for the punishment of exterminating nine generations of a family. 

Just today he was talking about exterminating that Meng Hei’s nine generations, and the very next moment, his own nine generations were already floating in the heavens. 

As he looked at the 88 dishes stretching out across the table, it felt like he’d been stabbed right in the armpit. 

What a cataclysmic start.

Someone, please save him.

……

Rong Shuang had no appetite left; he waved his hand to have the food cleared away. But when he heard a servant say they were going to throw it all away, his heart ached, so he called the dishes back.

He pointed at the table: “Leave these two plates for me; let the household staff take the rest to share among themselves. No leftovers, no waste! What kind of family is this, wasting food like this?” 

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and walked right into that massive pillar made of golden nanmu wood. 

“……”

If he remembered correctly, similar pillars had been auctioned off in later generations, with one selling for 2.7 billion and even trending on social media. Damn it.

He stood there quietly for a moment, then suddenly clutched his forehead and said, “It hurts so much…”

Then, he collapsed and passed out. Sigh.

Everything was so dark.

His future was so bleak he couldn’t see a thing. 

“Aaaaaaah!”

Screams rang out one after another in his ears, and his lively servants were in a state of chaos. Before long, he was carried back to his bedroom in a palanquin. Rong Shuang lay on the extravagant, over-the-top bed of the corrupt official, dazed and barely breathing: “Housekeeper… Housekeeper…”

The old steward was right by his side: “My Lord, you usually call this old servant ‘Old Ge,’ or ‘Ge Lang.’” 

Rong Shuang opened one eye.

What a good name—it sounded like it would save money. He liked it. 

He murmured weakly: “Old Ge, I hit my head on the pillar earlier and feel a bit dizzy. I can’t remember many things—could you fill me in?” 

Old Ge’s expression was complex, and he hesitated for a long time: “Sir, you actually have a habit of keeping notes yourself. There are quite a few of your own jottings in the study, but you usually don’t let anyone touch them. If you’d like to look at them now… perhaps I could fetch them for you?” 

Rong Shuang hurriedly replied, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” 

Before long, Old Ge had a servant bring in a large wooden chest.

Rong Shuang dismissed the men and quickly got to his feet to pull out a few notebooks from inside.

To say the least, the corrupt official had beautiful handwriting, and Rong Shuang found reading it effortless. There were seven notebooks in the wooden chest, and by the time Rong Shuang finished reading them, two hours had passed. 

Old Ge called out to him from the doorway: “Sir, the servants don’t know what you’d like for lunch…”

Rong Shuang didn’t respond. He rested his chin in his hand and fell deep in thought, his eyes vacant and his mind clouded with worry. 

If he’d known the situation would be this dire, he should have just gone and smashed his head against that 2.7 billion right then and there.

The situation is just too complicated. How could Rong Shuang, a twenty-year-old college student who can’t even grasp the concepts in his textbooks, possibly hope to throw himself into the fray and take down the emperor? 

Haha. 

Haha.

Did you hear that? “Overthrowing the emperor”—that’s exactly what it is. 

Do you think this is Jinjiang Literature City?? It’s nothing but a fairy tale! 

Rong Shuang rubbed his cheeks, buried his face in her knees, and sorted through her thoughts once more.

His original host, Rong Zhihuan, had served as Senior Grand Secretary under two dynasties and was the most corrupt official in the Great Liang Empire—all at the age of just twenty-three. 

To understand why Rong Zhihuan could become Senior Grand Secretary of two dynasties at such a young age, we must go back to Emperor Hui of Liang.

Emperor Hui of Liang lived up to his posthumous title: he was a kind-hearted yet somewhat weak-willed emperor with little talent for governance. He served as Crown Prince for sixteen years alone, ascended the throne at the age of thirty-eight, and achieved virtually nothing during his reign of over twenty years.

He was destined to be a ruler who simply maintained the status quo—neither distinguished nor discredited—but in his later years, Rong Zhihuan entered the picture.

Rong Zhihuan was a prodigy: he passed the Xiucai examination at twelve and the Jinshi examination at sixteen. Shrewd and skilled at winning people over, he soon made a name for himself in the presence of Emperor Hui of Liang. 

Emperor Hui of Liang was frail and had only one young prince in his lifetime. In his final years, as he lay bedridden, he treated Rong Zhihuan like his own child, showering the young man with immense favor.

Beginning in the 20th year of the Xining era, Emperor Hui of Liang was already too frail to attend court and discuss state affairs. Whether it was due to genuine senility or because the emperor, isolated and alone, had finally come to feel the loneliness of his position, he actually ceded most of his power to Rong Zhihuan, an eighteen-year-old who stood watch at his bedside.

In the twenty-first year of the Xining era, the old emperor’s health deteriorated further. While Rong Zhihuan appeared to be merely the emperor’s mouthpiece, he had in fact seized control of the Grand Secretariat and the imperial court.

He formed factions, engaged in self-serving schemes, and sold official posts and titles, seizing the opportunity to amass vast wealth. The ailing emperor, confined to his sickbed, was completely deceived by Rong Zhihuan and remained utterly unaware of these actions. 

In the winter of the twenty-fourth year of the Xining era, Emperor Hui of Liang died, and Prince Beiling, Ying Wujiu, who had been stationed far away in the northwest, returned to the capital. 

Unlike Emperor Hui of Liang, the Prince of Beiling was suspicious, inscrutable, cold-blooded, and ruthless—like a venomous snake flickering its tongue. He had seen through Rong Zhihuan’s hypocritical facade and knew full well his greedy and bloodthirsty nature.

Now that the imperial administration was weak and the Great Liang Dynasty was riddled with problems, this new emperor, with his iron-fisted rule, was bound to use Rong Zhihuan’s corpse as the first stepping stone to restore the authority and dignity of the imperial throne.

Rong Zhihuan knew better than anyone that for a minister who lacked the emperor’s trust, no amount of power or influence would matter. Having lost Emperor Hui of Liang’s protection, he was bound to face a long-overdue reckoning.

In fact, this reckoning had already begun long ago; it was only because Rong Zhihuan had been extremely cautious—keeping an imperial edict from Emperor Hui of Liang that could save his life—that he had managed to survive until now.

But how could Rong Zhihuan possibly accept his execution willingly? Ying Wujiu would not let him die peacefully. He now faced only two choices: either be torn apart by five horses and have his body displayed in the streets, or install a new emperor as quickly as possible.

With no other way out, he had no choice but to choose the latter. The Prince of Qi was the new emperor he had set his sights on—a suitable, useless puppet.

The current situation is that Rong Zhihuan, the original host, has already colluded with the useless Prince of Qi in the southeast, planning to find an opportunity to overthrow the new emperor, Ying Wujiu. 

Rong Shuang: “……”

He had completely lost his appetite.

The original Rong Zhihuan, though wicked, was clever and could still put up a fight. But the current him? If the new emperor wanted to kill him, it would be as easy as pie.

“Hey, God, if you want me dead, you don’t have to go through all this trouble.” 

He lay back on the couch, sighing heavily, when Old Ge called out to him again from outside the door. 

Rong Shuang: “Prosperity, democracy, civilization, harmony…” 

Old Ge: “Your Excellency, please just take a couple of bites.” 

Rong Shuang: “Freedom, equality, justice, the rule of law…”

Old Ge: “You have to attend court tomorrow, and you’re already in poor health.” 

Rong Shuang: “Patriotism, dedication, integrity… Hmm???”

He sat up with a start, as if from the brink of death—he still had to attend court tomorrow?? 

Old Ge called out to him as if summoning his soul: “Your Excellency… Your Excellency…” 

Rong Shuang wasn’t dead yet, but that wailing voice nearly killed him. He got out of bed, slipped on his shoes, and rushed over. He opened the door and poked his head out, only to wilt instantly: “Old Ge, Your Honor here isn’t feeling well. I probably won’t be able to attend court tomorrow. Have someone ask for a sick leave for me.”

Old Ge looked somewhat flustered: “Well… well, well, well…”

Rong Shuang’s eyes welled up with tears: “As the Senior Grand Secretary, am I really unable to even take a day off?” Old Ge sighed, as if he couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

After a long pause, he said, “Your Excellency, the truth is, you don’t attend court more than a few times a month. Last month alone, you were home sick for as many as twenty-six days. As for this old servant… I simply can’t come up with any more excuses.” 

Rong Shuang：“……”

This corrupt official actually had enough self-awareness to know to keep a low profile.

But the problem is, what’s he supposed to do now?! He’s called in sick so many times that even Old Ge doesn’t believe he’s really unwell anymore. Damn it, he’s so angry he could explode. 

Rong Shuang was genuinely feeling miserable now, consumed by a surge of inexplicable anger.

Perhaps seeing how pale he looked, Old Ge’s heart softened a bit: “Then this old servant will ask someone to send a message to the palace.” 

Rong Shuang was deeply moved: “Old Ge, you’re like a father to me.”

Old Ge nearly stumbled backward. 

He watched Old Ge leave, secretly relieved that he’d gained another day to catch his breath.

Little did he expect that his plans would go awry that very evening—someone from the palace had arrived.

He was just pondering the situation when he heard a loud shout from outside: “Your Excellency! Your Excellency! Eunuch Huang has arrived!” 

Eunuch Huang? Huang Lian? 

That particularly bitter-sounding name left a deep impression on Rong Shuang. He was the chief eunuch at Ying Wujiu’s side, in charge of all matters great and small at the Bureau of Ceremonial Rites. He was cunning and shrewd, a master at gauging the emperor’s thoughts.

He jumped down from the couch in one swift motion, but because he hadn’t eaten all day, his vision went dark, the world spun around him, and he landed with a “thud.”

When his personal attendant came in, he saw Rong Shuang sprawled on the floor in a starfish position. Rong Shuang was on the verge of tears—as if he’d really died from the fall. 

His personal attendant hurriedly helped him to his feet, and Rong Shuang staggered toward the door. Just then, Eunuch Huang strolled in with an air of nonchalance. He smiled broadly at the man clad only in his undergarments and called out, “Lord Rong, a verbal decree from His Majesty.”

The courtyard was already filled with people kneeling on the ground. Rong Shuang had just been helped to his feet, but now he had to kneel again.

Eunuch Huang Lian cleared his throat and said haughtily, “His Majesty has heard that Lord Rong is unwell and cannot attend court tomorrow. He has specifically ordered this servant to invite you to the palace to soak in a medicinal bath at the Liuqing Pool. Lord Rong, this is a tremendous honor—hurry and accept the imperial decree.” 

Rong Shuang was completely bewildered; he never expected to be granted an audience with the Emperor so soon. A medicinal bath? Enter the palace? Wouldn’t the new Emperor have him chopped into mincemeat?

Rong Shuang swallowed hard, and Huang Lian reminded him once more: “Lord Rong, please accept the imperial decree at once. We cannot afford to keep His Majesty waiting any longer.”

Holy cat. 

Rong Shuang quickly replied, “This subject accepts the imperial decree!”

Huang Lian waved his whisk and raised his voice: “Then let’s go.”

Rong Shuang tried to stall a little longer: “Eunuch Huang, please allow me to change my clothes first…”

Before he could finish his sentence, palace attendants grabbed him, one on each side, and hoisted him up.

Huang Lian: “Lord Rong, there’s no need to change. His Majesty said to please go immediately—it wouldn’t be good to delay treatment.” 

Rong Shuang: #￥!@#%￥. 

The palanquin sent from the palace stopped at the main gate of the Rong residence. Still clad only in his undergarments, he was hauled into it in the midst of the chaos. Huang Lian sat directly across from him, staring at him with a smile as serene as a Buddha.

Rong Shuang felt a chill run down his spine.

It felt like a trap—the emperor hated him with a vengeance; there was no way he’d invite him to take a bath out of the goodness of his heart. Besides… yue ah ah~~

Rong Shuang was getting carsick again.

“……”

He hadn’t eaten all day, was frantic with anxiety, and had gotten carsick twice. By the time he arrived at the palace, his face was deathly pale, and he was slumped in the palanquin like a tattered rag. 

If Ying Wujiu really intended to chop him down, he definitely wouldn’t make it even half a meter away.

The palace attendants pulled him out of the palanquin and carried him away toward the Liuqing Pool. This bath felt like a home invasion…

Gross AHHHH—

Rong Shuang no longer had the strength to take in the grandeur of the imperial palace; he remained limp the entire way until he finally settled into the water, his vision filled with billowing steam, and the air was thick with a tart, bitter medicinal scent.

It really was a medicinal bath.

He squinted, trying hard to make out the scene inside the pool. But the mist was so thick that he could do nothing but crawl forward a little further.

Just then, a hand suddenly shot out of the pond and yanked Rong Shuang in with a splash. 

Holy shit!

Rong Shuang: “A ghost! Gulp, gulp… A ghost… Gulp, gulp…” 

There’s a water ghost in this medicinal bath!

Rong Shuang was submerged, able only to gurgle and bubble. Just as he was about to meet the King of Hell, a deep, chilling voice—like that of a ghost—suddenly rang in his ears.

“I had no idea someone like you, Lord Rong, would actually be afraid of ghosts.” 

Rong Shuang: “Oh……”

You. Son. Of. A. B*tch.