Rong Shuang found it difficult to explain the whole situation from start to finish, so in the end, he simply patted Meng Han on the shoulder.

The thought that in six hours… no, five and a half hours, he’d have to enter the palace and face Ying Wujiu filled him with a wave of despair. He raised his hand to wipe away his tears.

Waaah, who could save him?

Seeing Rong Shuang like this, Meng Han was even more startled. For a moment, he didn’t know what had come over him, but once he snapped out of it, he slapped himself twice across the face and frantically climbed onto his horse.

This was too terrifying. This was too lewd.

Rong Shuang, oblivious to what was happening, followed suit and climbed onto his horse, but accidentally bumped into Meng Han, who immediately let out a scream: “Ah!” 

Rong Shuang: “?”

What? You know this stuff is contagious too? 

They rode back to the mansion on the horse’s back. When they reached the gate, Rong Shuang saw quite a few servants packing up and leaving—all of them looked like they were rolling up their belongings and fleeing. Meng Han’s expression was hard to describe.

Rong Shuang dismounted and turned to look at him.

He said with a smile, “Brother Meng, why don’t we become sworn brothers? We don’t have to be born in the same year, same day, same hour—but at least the same year, same month, same day…” 

“No, really, no thanks, Lord Rong!”

Meng Han quickly rode off on his horse. Rong Shuang was delighted.

Presumably, everyone in the court believed it was only a matter of time before his family’s estate was confiscated, he was imprisoned, and he was beheaded. Ah well, so be it.

Rong Shuang strolled leisurely toward the gates of the Rong Manor, even greeting the servants rushing about in a panic with a warm, “Off you go.” 

“Have you eaten yet, sir?”

“Drive safely.” 

“Bye.”

The servants merely responded with forced smiles, but in reality they kept their distance, afraid of being implicated in any way.

Some servants had originally planned to watch and see what would happen, but when they heard that their master had, during today’s court session, lavishly distributed money—a full ten million taels of silver—in front of His Majesty, they immediately felt there was no hope left.

If their master had gone mad, what were they still doing here—waiting to be beheaded along with him?

As a result, the Rong Mansion was bustling with activity all morning, and only after things quieted down did they realize that more than half the mansion had been emptied. Old Ge looked deeply troubled, while Laifu and Wangcai both sighed heavily.

Rong Shuang patted each of them on the shoulder in turn, not forgetting to ruffle Yaozu’s dog’s head.

“All good things must come to an end. Just take it in stride.”

Yaozu: “Woof-woof.~”

Besides, Rong Shuang now had a matter of his own—a five-and-a-half-hour countdown to losing his head—to deal with; he had no time to worry about who had fled. He had Old Ge draw up an inventory of everything in the Rong Manor’s storeroom, then locked himself in his study.

But the moment he stepped inside, Rong Shuang sensed something was off.

“Who’s there?”

A figure emerged from behind a screen adorned with Sichuan embroidery that was several feet high; the face was familiar—it was that maidservant who had been wailing and wailing. Rong Shuang thought to himself, “This girl—”

“Sister” bowed slightly: “Sir, you’re back.”

This “sister” is actually a man?????

Rong Shuang thought he must have heard wrong. He picked at his ear and stared in utter shock at the “maidservant” dressed in an embroidered silk tunic and skirt—who was speaking in a deep, masculine voice.

Rong Shuang frantically took a few steps back and held out his hand to stop him: “Dude, calm down.”

“Don’t you like men, sir? I forgot to mention it yesterday, but I’m actually a man.” 

Rong Shuang cursed inwardly: Is that what you call “forgetting to mention it”?! What?! Damn it.

He couldn’t help but ask directly, “Are you from the Office of Inspection?” The “maidservant” paused in her tracks.

Rong Shuang snapped, “Your Majesty already sold you off today, and he even cured me of my fondness for men. You’re way behind on the news—I don’t like men anymore.”

The “maidservant” pondered for a moment.

The next second, her voice took on a sharp edge: “Actually, this servant can be either male or female.” 

Rong Shuang: “?”

Little girl-boy, leave my world.

He, too, clasped his hands and forced a smile: “You’re too kind. This official doesn’t like effeminate men either.” 

In the end, the “maidservant” was still escorted out by him.

As of now, his sexual orientation has become a complete mystery. 

After this little interlude, Old Ge physically dragged the detailed inventory of the estate’s assets over to him. Yes, not in the sense of “dragging a list,” but in the literal sense of physically dragging it over. 

In boxes.

Rong Shuang had mentally prepared himself for this, but clearly, he hadn’t prepared enough.

Thirty thousand mu of fertile farmland, over five thousand rooms in the estate, and countless amounts of silver, gold, and rare treasures.

The Rong Manor really is a massive money pit—its wealth rivals that of a nation. No wonder ancient emperors would execute corrupt officials first when they ran out of money. If I ask you for money, will you hand it over? Don’t want to? No problem—I’ll just dig up some old grievances and have your whole family killed.

Put simply, the Rong Manor is just a bank, serving as a place for Ying Wujiu to stash his money. Even Rong Shuang understands this, and Ying Wujiu knows it all too well. 

But the trouble with the world is that everyone—heaven, earth, you, and I—already knows the truth, yet no one can break through that thin veil of secrecy; whoever does is as good as dead. 

So-called “justification for war” is nothing but paste—used to stick that veil in place.

Rong Shuang was deeply troubled. If he couldn’t come up with a “pretext” for the payment by the hour of You, Ying Wujiu would give him a different kind of “pretext”—the kind that wipes out nine generations of his family.

Pacing back and forth in his study, noon soon arrived. Rong Shuang hadn’t come up with anything, so he had no choice but to eat first. He ate two handfuls of stir-fried greens, two small chicken drumsticks, and gnawed on two steamed buns—a total of six copper coins. 

After jotting down the receipt, he buried his head in his work again. Think.

Thinking and thinking. Come on, you thick skull, think faster.

Aaaaaaaaaaah!

……

……

……

Qide Hall.

Ying Wujiu held a scroll in his left hand, idly flipping through its pages. Huang Lian walked in and bowed, saying, “Your Majesty, there’s a message from outside.” The emperor raised a finger, and Huang Lian handed him the note.

It was yet another message from the Rong Mansion.

Ying Wujiu held it in his hand without looking at it, tapping it lightly with his finger.

After a long silence, he asked, “Huang Lian, do you believe there is a method for soul transference in this world?”

Huang Lian bowed his head and smiled, “Your Majesty, this humble servant knows only that the world is vast and full of wonders; nothing can be said for certain.”

Ying Wujiu lifted his eyelids, and his gaze fell downward—but he wasn’t looking at Huang Lian; instead, his eyes passed right through him and settled on a spot farther away. It was the spot where Rong Shuang had been kneeling earlier that day.

Ying Wujiu narrowed his eyes.

Could someone so cowardly—whose every thought is written all over his face—truly stir up political turmoil and secure the top position in the Grand Secretariat? Or was he deliberately playing dumb to hide his true abilities?

“Did he return to the Rong residence with Meng Han?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Meng Han waited for Lord Rong for a while at the palace gate.”

Ying Wujiu unfolded the note in his hand and scanned it from top to bottom.

He paused for a long moment, particularly at the final line: “That’s too kind of you—this official doesn’t care for men either.” Then, with a cold chuckle, he flung the note aside.

In just two short days—feigning madness, dismissing the Rong Manor’s servants, and refusing to spend a single coin within the estate—he was eager to see what kind of scheme this man could come up with.

As dusk fell and the Hour of the Rooster arrived, Huang Lian entered to announce the arrival.

“Your Majesty, Lord Rong has arrived.”

Ying Wujiu waited.

He heard the sound of footsteps clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter from outside, followed by a creak as the palace doors swung open. 

“Your Majesty, your servant is back~.” 

Off he went.

He stepped forward with his left foot. He tripped.

Thud.

“Ouch, I fell.”

“A breach of protocol before the throne! A breach of protocol before the throne! May Your Majesty punish this humble servant by sending me to Lingfu Temple to recite sutras and pray for Your Majesty and all the people of the realm!” 

Ying Wujiu：“……?”

Rong Shuang planted one foot on the ground and flung himself face-down onto the floor. After a moment of silence, he peeked out with one eye to steal a glance at the emperor’s expression. 

Ugh.

His face looked terrible. This isn’t good.

He quickly scrambled to his feet and obediently knelt there, not moving.

Ying Wujiu: “Is this the solution Lord Rong came up with after six hours of thinking?” 

Rong Shuang: “……”

It felt like Ying Wujiu was about to chew him to pieces.

But there was no other choice—this was indeed the only way out he could come up with.

He’d wrung every last drop out of himself today just to come up with it: first, he’d be demoted to Lingfu Temple to lie low for a while because he’d entered the palace with his left foot forward; then, at the appointed time, he’d have someone spread the news of “heavenly blessings descending”; and finally, he’d seize the opportunity to send a message back claiming he’d unearthed a secret treasure from the previous dynasty and intended to present it to His Majesty.

Perfect—a complete cycle. When the time came, he’d transfer all the gold, silver, and jewels from the Rong Manor into the imperial treasury. It’d be a win-win for everyone—a happy ending all around.

It’s practically a happy ending, isn’t it!

Rong Shuang, under the Emperor’s gaze—as piercing as an imperial execution—nodded vigorously, like a garlic press. Stop scolding me, stop scolding me. 

Silence reigned in the hall for a long time—so long that Rong Shuang began to wonder if Ying Wujiu had fallen asleep—when finally, two words dropped from above like a pardon.

“Approved.”

Rong Shuang was about to spew a flood of flattery, only to be cut off by the emperor’s next words.

“I’ve heard that you’ve been telling everyone today that I cured your homosexual tendencies.” 

“Why don’t you tell me, my minister, how exactly did I cure you?”

My minister.

Rong Shuang shuddered.

Who could possibly understand just how terrifying it is to hear the word “my minister” come from the mouth of someone like Ying Wujiu?

Someone like Ying Wujiu was clearly a predator; when he showed unusual kindness toward his prey, it meant he was about to strike. 

Rong Shuang immediately cowered, dropping to his knees without a moment’s hesitation: “This humble subject acknowledges his mistake!” 

“Mistake?”

“What was your mistake?”

“Well… um… I’m wrong because…”

“I’m wrong… I mean… um… I’m wrong…” 

Rong Shuang mumbled for a long time but couldn’t come up with a single coherent sentence. 

Ying Wujiu: “Tsk.”

Rong Shuang shuddered.

Hearing footsteps drawing closer to him once again, Rong Shuang quickly covered his neck, terrified that Ying Wujiu would choke him again.

“Look up.”

Rong Shuang half-sat up, trembling.

The Emperor watched his movements and leaned in very gently: “My minister, must I speak before you’ll let go?” 

Rong Shuang: “……”

Damn it.

He closed his eyes briefly and resignedly let go.

His slender neck was once again exposed to the air; Ying Wujiu seemed satisfied as he spread his fingers and wrapped them around his neck, pressing the pad of his thumb against his, gently rubbing it. 

“Say fewer wrong things and do fewer wrong deeds. I cannot guarantee that I will always have this kind of patience.”

Rong Shuang swallowed hard.

Ying Wujiu sensed his Adam’s apple move and lowered his gaze.

“Your throat is beautiful.”

Rong Shuang: “?”

Bro, please say something that makes sense—this is terrifying.

Ying Wujiu suddenly fixed his gaze on Rong Shuang’s expression and asked, “Are you cursing the Emperor?”

Rong Shuang startled and quickly shook his head.

Ying Wujiu wasn’t actually asking him, nor did he want an answer. He said slowly, “Did you use to wear your thoughts on your face like that, too?”

Rong Shuang quickly composed his expression again, putting on an innocent smile. 

Ying Wujiu seemed to have enjoyed the little game, and finally let go of him. 

“Then, Lord Rong, you should go to Lingfu Temple to recite sutras and pray for blessings.”

Rong Shuang quickly moved away from him, hastily replying, “This humble subject obeys! This humble subject obeys!”

“You may withdraw.”

Rong Shuang, now free, scrambled to his feet and ran out, humming a cheerful little tune to herself.

Goodbye, Mom—tonight I’m setting sail~ 

The next second.

“Holy shit!” 

Rong Shuang’s left foot caught on the threshold, and he went face-first into the ground.

Just then, a slow, deliberate, and sarcastic low voice rang out in the hall. 

“Oh my, Lord Rong has fallen.” 

Rong Shuang：“……”

He felt hateful.