Chapter 8: “I will not leave.”

Inside the Punishment Pavilion, every kind of torture instrument was prepared.

The eunuch Zhang Shu had already given instructions: the face must not be damaged, the skin must remain flawless. As for everything else… the people below could decide for themselves.

Eunuch Qu Fu found it difficult.

Zhang Shu said, “Go invite an imperial physician skilled in treating external injuries to supervise things. It’s not that he can’t be hurt, but no scars can be left behind. If His Majesty sees blemishes, it’ll spoil his appetite.”

Qu Fu glanced around before edging closer and lowering his voice.

“Sir… please give me some guidance. What exactly does His Majesty think of this person?”

“I really can’t judge it. I don’t dare offend him too severely. If this one gains favor later, won’t I be skinned alive?”

Zhang Shu replied, “Set your mind at ease. His Majesty wants the top scholar to submit. Understand?”

“And after he submits?” Qu Fu wiped nonexistent sweat from his forehead. “Will he be made a consort?”

Zhang Shu shook his head.

“Qu Fu, Qu Fu… after all these years, you still don’t understand. Remember that favored concubine from back then?”

The moment Zhang Shu mentioned it, Qu Fu remembered immediately.

That concubine from the male brothel.

Back then, Qu Fu had even tried currying favor with him. Yet not long after, the man had been beaten to death with rods.

That concubine truly had submitted. He had stopped seeming human altogether—just a dog-s*ave at His Majesty’s feet.

Only then did Qu Fu fully understand, and he relaxed considerably.

“Thank you for your guidance, sir. If there’s ever anything you need from this lowly servant, I’ll devote my liver and brain to repay you.”

Zhang Shu modestly waved him off.

“What nonsense are you saying? We all serve His Majesty. To devote our lives to His Majesty unto death—that is what servants like us ought to do.”

Qu Fu hurriedly agreed.

“Sir is absolutely right. This servant understands. I’ll definitely use every method available to make this top scholar obediently beg for His Majesty’s favor. I’ll smooth away all his claws and fangs, then nurse his body until his skin gleams like water, enough for His Majesty’s enjoyment.”

Satisfied, Zhang Shu nodded.

“Handle it properly.”

But before leaving, he suddenly thought of Lin Xiaoque and stopped walking.

Qu Fu immediately stepped forward, asking if there were further instructions.

After considering for a moment, Zhang Shu said, “There’s one thing you must engrave into your heart.”

“Please instruct me.”

“Do not let word spread. Especially don’t let Young Lord Lin find out. The Punishment Pavilion is remote—under normal circumstances, the young lord wouldn’t wander here. But if he somehow does, find a way to hide it. Don’t let him know the top scholar is imprisoned inside. Understand?”

Qu Fu instantly developed a headache.

How had he forgotten such an important noble?

Uneasily, he asked, “Afterward… the young lord won’t trouble us over the top scholar, right?”

Zhang Shu glanced at him.

“Servants merely obey orders. Even if the young lord seeks trouble, it won’t be your head he goes after.”

“Besides, the entire world belongs to His Majesty. The young lord is also His Majesty’s subject. If His Majesty wants someone, could the young lord possibly compete for him?”

Then Zhang Shu added:

“Still, given the young lord’s frail health, if anything happens to him… forget anyone else, the Crown Prince would personally skin you alive.”

“Remember this: act carefully. Control your tongue. Don’t say what shouldn’t be said. Don’t ask what shouldn’t be asked.”

Zhang Shu left the Punishment Pavilion without sparing Xie Zhichi a single glance.

He knew the top scholar was innocent.

But there were countless innocent people in this world.

Were the commoners who died from forced labor not innocent? The corpses buried beneath flood-control dikes and canals—not innocent either?

The top scholar clearly had a path to the heavens laid before him.

He was the one who refused it, insisting on preserving his integrity until others shattered it completely—until he could never stand again and could only crawl like a dog.

The previous day, the servants below had reported on Xie Zhichi’s condition. Zhang Shu had casually mentioned it before the emperor, asking how the prisoner in the dungeon should be dealt with.

Someone who dared compose poetry mocking the emperor wouldn’t even be excessively punished by execution through dismemberment. In severe cases, entire clans were implicated; history had many such precedents.

The top scholar had been young and hot-blooded, offending imperial authority for a moment’s satisfaction. Killing one chicken to warn the monkeys was practically routine.

Emperor Xiao Juan lowered his gaze toward Zhang Shu.

Zhang Shu’s heart trembled. He immediately abandoned any murderous intent and carefully said:

“In this servant’s opinion, the criminal Xie, now reduced to a s*ave, should behave like a guilty s*ave.”

“His Majesty has graciously spared him the punishment of execution by horses. If Xie truly repents, he should prostrate himself in gratitude for Your Majesty’s mercy.”

The emperor found Zhang Shu’s phrasing amusing and casually replied:

“Very well. Then let Us see how Xie Zhichi repents on all fours.”

Only then did Zhang Shu finally understand the emperor’s intentions, and the unease in his heart settled.

Many times, the emperor never stated things clearly. He simply let the people beneath him “handle it.”

But if they handled it poorly, they might as well stop wanting to live.

The very next day, Zhang Shu arranged the punishment hall and selected the people involved. Xie Zhichi was dragged out of the dungeon and thrown into another, even deeper hell.

The carriage rolled slowly forward.

Leaning against the carriage wall, Lin Xiaoque listened to the lively sounds outside before gradually calming down.

By the time he returned to his palace residence, exhaustion had softened his entire body.

Leaving the palace, standing outside for nearly half an hour—he collapsed onto the bed and no longer wished to move, not even for dinner.

Shan Xiu assumed his master was heartbroken. Carrying a bowl of soup, he persuaded Lin Xiaoque to eat at least a little.

Lin Xiaoque turned his face away.

He was simply too tired. Too tired to speak.

Yet that perfectly suited the appearance of quiet heartbreak.

Shan Xiu felt terrible inside. It was also the first time he had deceived his master. Holding the bowl, he suddenly knelt.

“If Master is unhappy, then punish this servant to vent your anger. Why torment your own body instead?”

Tiredly, Lin Xiaoque turned back to look at him.

Shan Xiu knelt there holding the bowl, brows tightly furrowed, enough to crush mosquitoes between them.

Lin Xiaoque raised a hand and smoothed the crease between Shan Xiu’s brows until it relaxed.

“I’m just too tired to eat. Why are you kneeling? I don’t even have the strength to hit you. And even if I did, I’d be too lazy.”

“It’d only make my hand hurt,” he muttered before half-closing his eyes again.

Shan Xiu set the bowl aside.

“Then this servant will punish himself instead.”

Lin Xiaoque barely had time to react before Shan Xiu viciously slapped himself.

The blow snapped his face sideways, blood already appearing at the corner of his mouth.

And he was about to strike himself again.

Alarmed, Lin Xiaoque immediately sat up and grabbed his wrist.

“What are you doing?! I’m not blaming you. I really just don’t have an appetite.”

Shan Xiu had too many things he could not say.

Since he had deceived his master, it counted as defying his superior. Even being beaten to death wouldn’t be excessive.

“Shan Xiu!” Lin Xiaoque pressed down hard on him.

With tearful eyes, Shan Xiu looked up.

“Master… if one day this servant commits a mistake, would Master forgive this servant? Forgive Shan Xiu?”

Only then did Lin Xiaoque understand why Shan Xiu had struck himself.

He looked at him silently, unable to openly reveal that he already knew the truth—that Xie Zhichi had become a palace s*ave rather than leaving the capital.

Touching Shan Xiu’s swollen cheek, he softly said:

“No matter what, you shouldn’t hit yourself. If it hurts, if it swells… no one else will care.”

Shan Xiu smiled through tears.

“If Master doesn’t care, then even being beaten to death would be only natural for a servant like me. But if Master shows mercy, then no matter what, this servant must preserve this cheap life to continue serving Master.”

Hearing that, Lin Xiaoque’s chest ached painfully.

His nose turned sour, and he looked away.

“Master…” Shan Xiu crawled forward on his knees, trembling as he pleaded. “Master, can you forgive this servant? Forgive Shan Xiu?”

Lin Xiaoque could not bear seeing him like this.

He tried helping him up, but Shan Xiu stubbornly refused to rise.

“You’re becoming more and more unruly,” Lin Xiaoque said helplessly. “Not even listening to my words anymore. Insisting on tormenting yourself.”

“One after another, all of you use me for amusement. If you want to hit yourself, then hit yourself. If you want to kneel, then kneel. The stage is already set—perform your own opera.”

Shan Xiu ruthlessly slapped himself again.

“Enough!” Lin Xiaoque shouted.

“What’s wrong with you today? I only said I didn’t want dinner, and you start tormenting yourself like this. Since when did Yong’an Palace become the Ministry of Justice? No accusation yet, and you’re already sentencing yourself!”

“Even if you really did something deceptive,” Lin Xiaoque hinted carefully, unable to say it outright, “then for your own sake, keep it buried.”

“If every man did not act for himself, heaven and earth would destroy him. Nobody is a saint. Everyone has selfish desires.”

Shan Xiu stared blankly at him before cautiously asking:

“Master won’t abandon this servant… right? Even if this servant truly did something wrong?”

Bitterness welled inside Lin Xiaoque, yet he still had to pretend ignorance.

“Mhm. So what did you do, to make yourself act so crazily?”

Shan Xiu lowered his eyes.

After a very long silence, he fabricated some random excuse to cover it up.

“That’s all? Worth acting like this over?” Lin Xiaoque helped him up this time, and Shan Xiu no longer resisted. “Your face is swollen like this. The servants below will laugh.”

Lin Xiaoque found the medicine ointment.

Years of illness had turned him into half a doctor himself. Yong’an Palace lacked many things, but medicine certainly wasn’t one of them.

He squeezed out ointment and carefully applied it to Shan Xiu’s face.

Shan Xiu knew he shouldn’t trouble his master with such matters, but he could not refuse the gentleness Lin Xiaoque showed him in this moment.

Lin Xiaoque quietly and seriously applied the medicine.

The pity revealed in his eyes made Shan Xiu feel that even death would be worthwhile.

“Master,” Shan Xiu asked softly, “why are you so good to this servant?”

Lin Xiaoque replied, “Then why are you so good to me?”

Shan Xiu froze.

“Serving Master is this servant’s duty. It can’t be considered kindness.”

Lin Xiaoque gently rubbed in the medicine. Shan Xiu silently endured the pain without making a sound, and Lin Xiaoque instinctively lightened his touch.

He understood the hierarchy of ruler and subject, master and servant in ancient society.

But that didn’t mean he could comfortably accept another person’s devotion.

No one was born obligated to serve another.

That Shan Xiu had become his servant—that was fate.

But Shan Xiu’s kindness toward him had nothing to do with fate. It came only from sincerity.

“Shan Xiu,” he quietly said, “the little bit of care I show you is only something casually tossed down by someone in a higher position. Just scraps leaking through my fingers.”

“If you’re smart, you should plan more for yourself instead of foolishly believing I’ll always treat you well.”

After all, he was merely a transmigrator completing a mission.

Even if he died, he wouldn’t truly die here.

This world was only a temporary resting place for him.

But Shan Xiu…

Shan Xiu was rooted here. He could neither leave nor escape. If he died, he would only die here too.

A handful of yellow earth.

Sun and moon cycling endlessly.

Hundreds of years later, who would remember a lowly eunuch from long ago?

In the river of history, countless nameless people had already drowned.

While alive, they might occupy a few Chinese characters as a name. After death, they became unmarked corpses with even their names returned to dust.

If Shan Xiu died, perhaps no one would even erect a gravestone for him.

He would simply be dragged outside the palace and tossed into a mass grave.

After all the exhaustion of the day, Lin Xiaoque developed a fever that night.

The eunuch on night duty hurriedly summoned the imperial physician.

Burning with fever and half-conscious, Lin Xiaoque inwardly cursed this useless body. He had only walked around a little and stood in the wind.

Lying on the bed, he felt thirsty.

And hungry.

So hungry his stomach burned.

Skipping dinner out of stubbornness had truly come back to haunt him.

Shan Xiu forced a bowl of medicine into him. Hearing Lin Xiaoque mumbling about being hungry, he wiped away tears before hurriedly feeding him pastries and ordering the small kitchen to prepare hot food immediately.

In his haze, Lin Xiaoque blurted out words meant only for 233.

“In the next life… I want to run everywhere… go crazy running around… I never want to stay trapped in bed as a useless invalid again…”

Hearing him mention “next life,” Shan Xiu’s grief surged.

Tears streamed down his face.

He frantically wiped them away. Crying like this was too inauspicious, like mourning the dead.

Lin Xiaoque continued mumbling indistinctly.

Shan Xiu couldn’t hear clearly and instinctively leaned closer to listen—

But at that moment came the announcement that the Crown Prince had arrived.

Shan Xiu could only suppress his emotions and quickly retreat.

Under the moonlight, Xiao Futu lifted Lin Xiaoque into his arms.

“How did you fall sick again? How exactly are these servants attending you?”

Lin Xiaoque could hardly answer, merely mumbling in discomfort with knitted brows.

The kitchen’s porridge and soup arrived. Xiao Futu personally fed him spoonful by spoonful until Lin Xiaoque weakly opened his eyes and muttered that he didn’t want more.

Only then did he stop.

Later that night, Xiao Futu lay down holding Lin Xiaoque in his arms.

A bit more lucid now, Lin Xiaoque murmured that he might pass the illness to him and told him to leave.

Touching his forehead, Xiao Futu scolded:

“You think everyone’s as weak as you? You only just recovered, and now you’re sick again. Next time if you still don’t take care of yourself, I won’t punish you—I’ll make all the servants in this palace experience what happens when they fail their master.”

Weakly, Lin Xiaoque replied:

“What does this have to do with them? I’ve always been like this since childhood. If you punish them all, then who’ll take care of me? You?”

Xiao Futu answered:

“There are countless servants in the palace. I could replace yours ten times over. If you truly want me to serve you, then move back to the Eastern Palace. I’ll personally take care of you without complaint.”

Lin Xiaoque weakly pushed him.

“Your Highness, what nonsense are you saying? If others hear this, they’ll say I’m bullying you.”

Xiao Futu suddenly grabbed his wrist—

Then lowered his head and bit the tip of his finger.

Lin Xiaoque’s half-lidded eyes widened.

“This,” Xiao Futu said, “is what bullying actually looks like.”

Already feverish and dazed, Lin Xiaoque had now even been bitten. Wronged beyond measure, he immediately tried biting back without caring about anything else.

Xiao Futu let him.

But with his weak body, Lin Xiaoque had no strength at all. His teeth pressing against bone felt more like licking than biting.

He gnawed and gnawed without success until he miserably muttered:

“Go away… go away…”

“I’m not leaving.” Xiao Futu wiped his lips. “If I leave, you’ll just keep causing trouble and making yourself sick.”

Lin Xiaoque’s consciousness became muddled again.

He kept mumbling for him to leave, that he didn’t want him there.

Xiao Futu held him tightly to stop him from kicking off the blankets and catching cold again.

“I’m not leaving.” Xiao Futu restrained his flailing hands. “I’m watching over you.”

“If you want to chase me away, then stop getting sick all the time. If you get sick again, I’ll lock you up, become your jailer, punish you, scare you, stop you from doing anything.”

He felt the warmth of Lin Xiaoque’s feverish body and gritted his teeth.

“I’ll tie you to the bed and see whether you still dare be naughty.”

Lin Xiaoque barely caught the last word.

The repeated “go away” in his sleep-mumbling gradually turned into “naughty… naughty…”

Xiao Futu couldn’t decide whether to laugh or worry.

Eventually Lin Xiaoque grew too tired to continue speaking, and the room fell quiet.

Xiao Futu’s heart abruptly tightened.

He leaned closer, only relaxing once he felt Lin Xiaoque’s warm breathing.

That entire night, Xiao Futu barely slept.

Only at dawn, after Lin Xiaoque’s fever finally subsided, did he realize how exhausted he himself was.

Recently burdened with endless duties, he had no time to rest.

After washing up and drinking strong tea to stay awake, he scolded the servants of Yong’an Palace, gave instructions to the imperial physicians, and only then departed.