“Did you hear? They dragged a few more corpses out of Qianming Palace[mfn]”Qianming Palace” (乾明宫 / 乾明宮), also known as the “Palace of Heavenly Brightness” or the “Bright Heaven Palace,” was the emperor’s residence.[/mfn], and there was blood outside the gates.”
“Are you crazy? Why are you saying things like that?”
“I heard the palace is moving more people in there. Aren’t they afraid?”
“Tch. Is it our turn next? You think so?”
Under the shade of a tree, two eunuchs lowered their voices as they gossiped, clearly afraid of being overheard.
Chatting idly on a quiet afternoon was natural, but the mood changed when the topic involved that place. Normally, no one would dare speak openly in a remote corner of the palace—but this was Bei Fang[mfn]Bei Fang (北房) means “north room” or “north wing.”[/mfn].
Several rows of small houses are hidden in this bright and beautiful palace and are very inconspicuous. Outside the courtyard, a long alley separated the light and the darkness.
Hardly anyone came to the Bei Fang. Other than the patrolling guards, only Nanny Ming and Eunuch Chen Mingde, who was in charge here, and a few servants worked under them.
The farther out you were, the longer it took for news to travel.
What Changshou and Wuyou were whispering about had actually happened four or five days ago.
“There’s hardly anything to do in the Bei Fang, and nothing ever exciting,” said Wuyou[mfn]Wuyou “無憂” (wú yōu) means: “Without worries”, “carefree”, or “free from sorrow.”[/mfn], true to his name, someone who enjoyed leisure. “You still thinking of leaving?”
Changshou flushed. “Who wants to be like you? No ambition at all. Willing to rot in this place your whole life?”
Someone passed through the corridor, carrying a few freshly washed garments. Wuyou happened to glance over and lifted his chin. “Look, there’s one of them.”
It was Jingzhe.
He was the oldest among them, already nineteen.
According to Chen Mingde, when the young eunuchs were selected, no one wanted to be assigned to this rundown place. But Jingzhe had come forward on his own, even begging Chen Mingde to choose him.
Chen Mingde, who was in charge of the Bei Fang, had his own reasons.
Jingzhe was good-looking.
Among the group back then, his looks were especially striking, and he stood out from the crowd. A pretty boy like him should have had no trouble getting a better job in the palace. So why did he volunteer to come to the Bei Fang?
At that time, the boy’s eyes held a complicated emotion. With one blink, his clear gaze seemed clouded by mist.
Moved by this, Chen Mingde accepted him.
But he hadn’t expected Jingzhe to actually stay. Years passed, and Jingzhe never tried to leave, unlike the others who constantly schemed to escape. It was as if he wanted to put down roots in this forgotten place.
After washing clothes at the well, Jingzhe carried the bucket back.
Along the way, he ran into Changshou, who grinned and said, “Grandpa De’s looking for you.”
Chen Mingde was already forty-six, so being called “Grandpa” wasn’t unusual for him.
Jingzhe thanked him and continued on his way.
Changshou glanced at him. Jingzhe’s dark blue robe was standard attire for North Wing attendants and was supposed to be washed by the palace maids every few days.
But the maids here were lazy and often forgot. The aloof lords didn’t bother giving orders. Only Jingzhe, ever reliable, would quietly wash the clothes one by one.
Even in freezing weather, he never made exceptions.
After hanging the garments out to dry, Jingzhe went to find Chen Mingde.
Chen Mingde’s room was slightly larger than the others. He had a quiet assistant, a eunuch named Sanshun, who rarely spoke.
Perhaps that’s why Chen Mingde favored him over someone like Changshou.
But Sanshun and Jingzhe got along well. He smiled warmly when he saw Jingzhe—perhaps because Jingzhe had looked after him when he’d been sick with a fever a few years back.
Aside from Sanshun, two unfamiliar boys were waiting outside.
They clearly weren’t from the Bei Fang.
Sanshun led Jingzhe inside. The room wasn’t big or small. Inside, two people sat with Chen Mingde—Nanny Ming and a middle-aged eunuch whom Jingzhe didn’t recognize at first. His brightly colored cotton robe hinted at his higher status.
Low-ranking eunuchs wore dull green or blue in winter. Palace maids wore slightly brighter shades, but the richer the color, the higher the rank.
Although the man was unfamiliar, Jingzhe recognized him. He had been present at the new recruit selection seven years ago.
This was Qian Qin, the head steward of the Imperial Kitchens.
Qian Qin was wealthy and soft-spoken. He humbled himself to come to the north room without arrogance and asked quietly,
“I heard from Chen Mingde that you’re good at making soup.”
Jingzhe replied politely, “I wouldn’t dare boast before Head Steward.”
Qian Qin continued, “A noblewoman wants Xiangfan persimmon soup. But no one in the kitchens knows how to make it. I heard you’re from Xiangfan and can make it, so help me out and teach these apprentices.”
He made it clear that Jingzhe wasn’t being reassigned to the kitchen, just borrowed for a few days.
Jingzhe could only agree.
With the head steward visiting in person, who could refuse?
After setting a meeting time in the kitchens for the next day, Qian Qin left with his people.
Chen Mingde’s face darkened. He turned to Nanny Ming coldly. “You told someone about Jingzhe?”
Nanny Ming replied, “That new young lady is spoiled and favored. She wanted persimmon soup from Xiangfan. What could the kitchen staff do? They had to find someone. Jingzhe has the skill. Helping him settle in isn’t a bad thing. Was I wrong?”
Chen Mingde snapped. “Even if you’ve got gold in your hands, you still need to live properly. Nanny, don’t meddle with my people again.”
Nanny Ming scoffed and glanced at Jingzhe. “If this boy didn’t have that skill, I wouldn’t have bothered. But since you don’t appreciate my help, forget it.”
After she left, Chen Mingde rubbed his nose and sighed.
Jingzhe said, “Grandpa De, don’t worry about me. It’s only for a few days.”
Chen Mingde let out a cold chuckle. “Just a couple of days? If it were really that simple, do you think Qian Qin would have come here himself? He doesn’t do anything unless there’s a benefit in it. He’s here to make me owe him one.”
He coughed again. Jingzhe stepped forward and handed him a cup of warm tea.
Chen Mingde stared at him and sighed. “You tell me—why would Qian Qin come all this way?”
Jingzhe fell silent, then softly said, “It’s hard to find someone from Xiangfan in the palace, but it shouldn’t be that hard to find someone who can learn. Maybe she came to you, Grandpa De, so blame could be shifted if something goes wrong.”
The noblewoman in question was Liu Cairen, who entered the palace last year.
Presented by the King of Huainan, she was beautiful and talented. She’d been favored since the moment she arrived.
Born in Xiangfan, she moved south when she was young. A few days ago, she caught a cold and became nostalgic. She wanted persimmon soup. Once the lady spoke, the servants had to act.
“It’s just soup. Why the fuss?”
Jingzhe’s voice was pleasant but slightly hoarse, with a hint of doubt.
When someone favored wanted something, they didn’t have to say much; others would rush to get it done. Qian Qin’s caution was unusual.
“Could something have happened before with the persimmon soup?”
Years ago, when Chen Mingde had a fever, Jingzhe had cooked for him. At the time, Chen Mingde said nothing. But later, he warned Jingzhe not to make persimmon soup again.
Suddenly, Chen Mingde’s eyes locked on Qian Qin. His voice dropped low and fearful.
“Never say something like that again!”
…
Jingzhe left the room. Sanshun gave him a simple, silly smile, which lifted his spirits a bit. Jingzhe said a few words to him, then headed back to his quarters.
The inner rows were where the masters lived. No matter how forgotten or fallen they were, they were still “masters.” Servants like Jingzhe could only rest outside, and even then, they had to share rooms.
The Bei Fang was quiet, and there was little to do.
Besides sweeping, washing, and fetching meals each day, there wasn’t much else to do. The maids handled the indoor duties. The eunuchs took care of the heavier labor.
Changshou caught up to Jingzhe and patted him on the shoulder. “What did Grandpa De want from you?”
Jingzhe replied, “The Imperial Kitchen needs someone who can make soup. I’m being sent to help for a few days.”
Changshou was stunned and a little jealous. He glanced at Jingzhe’s red, swollen hands. “How could a job like that end up here in the Bei Fang?”
Jingzhe calmly added, “Nanny Ming recommended me.”
Changshou’s expression shifted. He gave Jingzhe a long look. “Nanny Ming…”
Nanny Ming and Chen Mingde had worked together for years. They used to be on good terms, but something must have changed. The atmosphere between them had grown strange.
The servants had picked up on it. Knowing that Nanny Ming was involved made this assignment feel less like an opportunity and more like a trap.
Changshou now looked at Jingzhe differently.
At that moment, Xia Ri, a palace maid from the inner quarters, rushed in and said her mistress needed something heavy moved. She dragged Changshou and Mingyu away to help, leaving Jingzhe alone in the dim room.
Jingzhe tidied the bed, opened the windows, and glanced at his hands.
Doing laundry in winter was brutal. There was no charcoal fire. You had to dip your fingers into freezing water, which left them red, swollen, and throbbing.
No wonder the maids tried to avoid it.
Jingzhe hesitated, then looked toward the small wooden cabinet beside his bed.
Each servant had one. Clothes were stuffed into the bottom drawer. The top drawer held small personal items.
Jingzhe’s cabinet had once been unlocked, but after losing a few things, he added a lock.
He pulled a small key from around his neck, carefully unlocked the drawer, and took out a tiny jade bottle.
It was smooth, round, and exquisite—not something someone like him should own.
He tilted the bottle, letting milky-white liquid spill into his palm. After tucking it away again, he slowly rubbed the balm over his chapped hands.
It stung at first, burning like fire on his raw skin, but as the medicine absorbed, the pain and swelling began to fade.
As he applied it, Jingzhe fell into a daze. His face paled.
He thought back to what had happened to him.
Three months ago, something strange had begun.
From that day on, a dry, eerie voice had begun whispering in his ears.
The first time it happened, Jingzhe was terrified—he thought he was hearing ghosts. But after it happened two or three more times, he forced himself to stay calm.
People in the palace couldn’t afford to fall ill.
If a master favored you, that was one thing. But a lowly servant like him couldn’t even dream of seeing a physician. If he really had a terminal illness, there was no point in making a fuss.
He would just quietly wait for death.
Until that one day.
It was a typical autumn afternoon. Changshou claimed to have sprained his arm and said he couldn’t carry heavy things, so Jingzhe went to the Imperial Kitchen for him. On his way back—
[Mission failed. Penalty incoming.]
Jingzhe frowned and walked faster down the corridor, trying to shake off the voice.
He’d heard the word “mission” before. He’d always assumed he was hallucinating.
He had just helped bury a young eunuch named Deshun. The burial was simple: a roll of bedding laid to rest outside the palace walls.
When his turn came, he’d likely receive the same treatment.
Making it to age nineteen in the palace felt like stolen luck. Compared to his deceased family, he had lived long enough. If he had to die, he would just reunite with them.
[Random Buff: Everyone Loves the Host]
[Effect: For two hours, everyone who sees the host will fall in love with him.
Jingzhe had always tried to ignore these auditory hallucinations. But this one shocked him.
What the hell is a Bafu[mfn]MC calls Buff “Bafu.”[/mfn]? Everyone loves me?
What kind of fantasy is that?
Jingzhe thought it was ridiculous. Was it a hallucination trying to comfort him? Did it think he lacked affection because his parents were dead?
At that moment, several palace attendants came around the corner. Leading them was the steward of Chenghuan Palace. Jingzhe quickly stepped aside to avoid them.
Just as the steward passed, however, he paused and looked sideways at Jingzhe.
“Where are you from? Why haven’t I seen you before?”
Jingzhe bowed. “I’m from the Bei Fang. It’s normal that you wouldn’t recognize me.”
“You seem diligent. There’s an assessment at the end of the year. Why don’t you come work in Chenghuan Palace?”
Even Jingzhe was stunned. The attendants behind the steward looked up in shock.
This invitation was far too sudden.
Then, they all clearly saw Jingzhe’s face. Their surprise shifted to excitement.
One eunuch stepped forward and grabbed Jingzhe’s wrist. He laughed and said, “Brother Qiu Yi has sharp eyes! What a rough jade he’s found—truly a treasure. If you don’t take it, you’re missing out.”
They surrounded him. Several pairs of eyes stared at him with intense interest, as if they wanted to strip him down with their gaze.
One of them reached out to touch Jingzhe’s face.
Terrified, Jingzhe recoiled instinctively. He jerked his hand back and said stiffly, “Thank you for your kindness, brothers. Forgive my rudeness, but the master is waiting for dinner. I must go.”
He didn’t even know what he was saying. He bowed hastily and turned away.
At first, he walked quickly. Then, when he heard footsteps behind him, he broke into a run.
Jingzhe didn’t expect that this “Bafu” was so terrifying!
The Bei Fang was in the farthest corner of the inner palace. Sometimes, to avoid trouble, Jingzhe would take long detours. He was better than most at dodging patrolling guards.
He should have exited through Xiqing Gate[mfn]”Xiqing Gate” (西清门 / 西清門) “West Clear Gate” or “Western Tranquil Gate”[/mfn] and walked north. But, to shake off his pursuers, he circled through Cangzhen Gate[mfn]”Cangzhen Gate” (苍震门 / 蒼震門) “Gate of Azure Thunder” or “Vast Thunder Gate”[/mfn], looped around Qizhi Gate[mfn]”Qizhi Gate” (啓智門 / 启智门) “Gate of Enlightened Wisdom” Or “Gate of Awakening Intelligence”[/mfn], and ended up near Fengxian Hall[mfn]”Fengxian Hall” (奉先殿) “Hall of Offering to Ancestors” or “Hall of Revering the Forefathers”[/mfn].
By the time he arrived, the footsteps had faded.
Jingzhe looked up at the plaque above Fengxian Hall. He didn’t dare enter without permission. But to the left was a small side yard with a quiet hall and three chairs.
He slipped inside, gently shut the door, and pressed himself into the shadows, holding his breath.
Someone from earlier had chased him this far, but hesitated to enter the solemn space. After calling out a few times without a reply, they gave up and left.
Jingzhe didn’t relax until all the noise had vanished. He uncovered his mouth and nose and started breathing again.
Are they crazy?
Palace servants weren’t allowed to run wild like that. Their behavior was insane. Could it really be the ‘Bafu’?
Was it not a hallucination after all? Was some monster hiding in his ears, whispering magic into his mind?
Jingzhe was pale and trembling. He scanned the room like a startled bird soaked in cold rain.
“A bit strange…” he muttered.
Why wasn’t anyone guarding Fengxian Hall? Even if the master wasn’t present, someone should be stationed here.
He hadn’t thought much during the escape, but now his mind was racing.
“Hah—”
He suddenly turned and nearly collided with a tall figure.
Startled, he stumbled backward and pressed against the courtyard door.
A man stood before him, dressed in a palace guard’s uniform.
The man’s features were sharp, like a blade. His eyebrows were like knives, his nose was high and straight, and his expression was blank.
It was a sharp, suffocating kind of beauty. His indifferent eyes were like sharp knives, carrying a terrible pressure. His pupils, so dark they seemed to lurk like death’s breath, moved and slowly fell upon Jingzhe’s body.
“Who are you?”
His voice had a beautiful accent, and the syllables seemed to have an exotic rhythm as a slightly heavy, curved sound rolled between his lips and tongue.
Jingzhe’s heart thudded. A sudden sense of danger welled up in his gut.
That Bafu again—
Thinking of the crazed people from before, his legs trembled. He instinctively turned to run—
—but a strong arm swept past him and slammed the gate shut.
Bang!
[Mission 2 failed. Penalty incoming.]
[Random Buff: Skin Hunger]
[Effect: For one hour (approximately 30 minutes), people within ten steps of the host will crave physical intimacy. Without skin contact, they’ll feel restless and confused, and eventually lose control.
Jingzhe’s eyes darkened. What kind of broken house is this? Did it rain all night?
Where did the other Task 2 come from?
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