BHB chapter 9

 

Night fell over Wuying Palace[mfn] Wuying Palace (武英殿) =Hall of Martial Valor or Palace of Martial Excellence[/mfn].

Because Emperor Jingyuan was present, the palace attendants were extremely cautious and silent, not daring to make a sound.

Ning Hongru respectfully handed Emperor Jingyuan the document he was holding, bowed, and said, “Your Majesty, the men who went to Xiangfan have returned.”

The emperor took the document but held it to the side instead of reading it right away.

He was still reviewing reports sent from various places, and he had already gone through most of them.

Ning Hongru stepped back and stood silently beside him.

Soon after, a palace servant came to report that the person in the side hall had woken up.

Ning Hongru didn’t stop him and relayed the message. Sure enough, Emperor Jingyuan, who had been reading a memorial, raised his eyebrows slightly and stood up.

The chief attendant outside the hall quickly followed, trailing closely behind him.

When they reached the door, however, Emperor Jingyuan lifted his eyes, and Ning Hongru halted and stood outside.

That afternoon, Ning Hongru had noticed that His Majesty had changed clothes, and he had some suspicions.

And sure enough.

However, Ning Hongru hadn’t expected to see His Majesty come out of the Bei Fang carrying someone in the blink of an eye.

He and the palace servants behind him instinctively stared at the person in Emperor Jingyuan’s arms.

They couldn’t see the man’s face clearly, and he seemed unconscious. Yet somehow, their eyes were drawn to him, as if there were something strange and magnetic about him that made people glance twice.

Ning Hongru didn’t know what Emperor Jingyuan was thinking.

All he knew was that His Majesty had openly brought Jingzhe to Wuying Palace.

But no one would know, except those before the emperor.

Emperor Jingyuan wouldn’t reveal anything he didn’t want others to know.

Not even the Empress Dowager in Shoukang Palace could get in touch with him.

While the emperor attended to state affairs, Jingzhe rested in the side hall.

Now that he had woken up, someone would naturally come report it.

Ning Hongru stood outside, thinking to himself that His Majesty shouldn’t reveal his identity. He wondered if placing Jingzhe in such a remote corner was part of His Majesty’s plan.

He had gone to great lengths. Jingzhe shouldn’t be able to discover His Majesty’s identity, should he?

…

Of course, Jingzhe didn’t know.

When he woke up, the side hall was empty.

He touched his aching forehead and winced when he brushed against it, frowning deeply. He held a damp, cool handkerchief in his hand, probably used to reduce swelling.

Jingzhe turned his head and looked around the dim room, gauging the time and feeling slightly regretful. Why hadn’t he hit himself harder? It would have been better if he had passed out until tomorrow—one day less to endure would have been a small victory.

That afternoon, after realizing he was about to lose control, Jingzhe used his last bit of strength to knock himself out. At the time, he didn’t care how odd it looked; stopping himself was all that mattered.

He struggled to sit up, still feeling a smoldering heat in his body, though not as intense as before. There didn’t seem to be anyone nearby, so the buff wasn’t going haywire—making this the perfect moment to look around.

The place seemed secluded—not too spacious, but far better than the Bei Fang. The furnishings were few, but each piece was exquisite.

Where was this?

It clearly wasn’t the Bei Fang.

Was this where Rong Jiu had placed him after he passed out?

“Don’t you think this is ridiculous?”

Jingzhe leaned against the bedhead, drained, and weakly spoke to the system.

“Your goal is to help Prince Rui ascend the throne. You will be rewarded for success and punished for failure. Sounds logical enough. But what about this punishment? If Prince Rui really fails, and he gets hit with this kind of punishment—losing control in front of others, shamed beyond repair—how could he possibly maintain any dignity as a ruler? Isn’t this more harmful than helpful?”

What emperor could afford to lose his composure like that?

And this was just a few paragraphs—Jingzhe had already collapsed several times.

[Punishments for mission failure are automatically tailored to different hosts.]

“You mean if Prince Rui failed, he wouldn’t necessarily receive this punishment?

[Correct.]

“Then why am I so unlucky?”

[The host is not particularly unlucky. Buffs are randomly assigned. If they are concealed properly, they can also enhance the host’s popularity.]

[If Prince Rui fails his mission, the punishment will most likely relate to the exposure of his ambition. However, the host’s identity is different now, so failure is measured by the exposure of his identity. The host understands this logic better than the system.]

If Prince Rui were to expose his goal of seizing the throne, it would be a matter of life or death.

This punishment is like a noose around everyone’s neck.

As for “popularity”…

This twisted method boosts popularity?

Jingzhe said flatly, “You and I are never going to accomplish your mission.”

[The system has attempted several bindings, and this is the only successful one. Once bound, the host cannot be replaced.]
The system said solemnly.
[But the system is working hard to adjust the missions.]

It would just take time—one step at a time.

“…”

Jingzhe rubbed his brow, feeling a bit out of it.

To be fair, the missions issued by the system weren’t that difficult for the original host, Prince Rui.

The first task was difficult because it involved someone Emperor Jingyuan wanted dead. However, the second task—preventing exile—and the third—saving Yao Cairen’s life—are still possible.

The first could be accomplished by changing the charges; as long as exile was avoided, the system could be convinced. The third task was even simpler since the Empress Dowager in Shoukang Palace controlled the entire harem. If Prince Rui went to plead with her, saving Yao Cairen would be easy.

Ultimately, the system’s missions were meant to guide Prince Rui, telling him who to use, who held secrets, and who was valuable to keep alive. With his status and position, most of the missions weren’t hard to complete.

But for Jingzhe, completing them required risking his life.

He was already struggling just to stay alive.

Plus, Jingzhe had been passive from the start. If the mission hadn’t affected Yao Cairen, he wouldn’t have cared.

But these punishments…

Jingzhe curled up and hugged his knees.

Creak—

A faint noise. Jingzhe instinctively looked toward the door, where a sliver of twilight peeked through. It should be dusk now. The sky was dim, and light only spilled in when the door was pushed open.

A figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the fading sun; their features were unclear.

“It’s too dark. I’ll go get a lamp.”

The moment the person spoke, Jingzhe recognized the voice.

“No, no need.” Jingzhe quickly said. “Rong Jiu, where is this?”

He vaguely saw someone else near the door.

“Outside is just…”

“A colleague,” Rong Jiu said calmly. “This is where the guards rest.”

Jingzhe blinked. With the help of the remaining sunlight, he had already assessed the room.

Were the guards treated this well in the palace?

Jingzhe refused to let Rong Jiu light the lamp, so he shut the door and walked over. The closer Rong Jiu came, the more Jingzhe’s body tensed. Eventually, he covered his ears like a startled animal, scrambling under the blanket and curling up so tightly that not an inch of skin was exposed.

It was impossible—Rong Jiu’s gaze alone made Jingzhe grow hot.

Rong Jiu stopped at the bedside, and Jingzhe’s heart leapt.

His behavior today had been extremely strange.

“Doesn’t your forehead hurt?”

Rong Jiu’s voice was calm as he sat down on the bed.

Jingzhe was too weak and guilty to resist. He wriggled a little, but didn’t dare show his face. He mumbled from beneath the covers, “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Really?”

Rong Jiu asked coldly. He raised his hand and pressed Jingzhe’s forehead through the blanket. The movement was swift, precise, and ruthless—Jingzhe didn’t have time to react before he let out a hiss of pain.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

“…Doesn’t hurt.”

Jingzhe held back two teardrops that nearly fell.

He thought he heard faint laughter, but it wasn’t clear. The room fell silent again for a while. Jingzhe wanted to ask something, but he was too embarrassed. He took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Your colleagues said you left the palace on a mission and just returned?”

Rong Jiu casually replied, “It’s all taken care of.”

Jingzhe: “But wasn’t it troublesome?”

“Not at all,” Rong Jiu replied.

He chuckled lightly.

“I collected a few things.”

The entire Jiao family in the capital had been executed—their heads lopped off.

“I sent out a few more things.”

Their bodies were delivered to the Zhenbei Marquis’s residence.

“I did a few good deeds, too.”

He called for imperial physicians when elderly ministers fainted in outrage. Then, he politely asked them to retire and sent escorts to see them home. Very kind and thoughtful.

In the end, Rong Jiu gently summarized, “I did pretty well.”

Jingzhe blinked in confusion. Although he couldn’t see Rong Jiu’s face under the blanket, he could imagine his expression. He knew Rong Jiu had a rather twisted temperament. Hopefully, those people were okay.

He lay there for a while.

Rong Jiu didn’t ask why he’d done all this or why he’d passed out in the afternoon. Jingzhe was deeply grateful. But night was falling. If he didn’t return before curfew, it would cause trouble.

Just as Jingzhe was hesitating over what to say next, Rong Jiu spoke up.

“You’re not feeling well. You can rest here tonight.”

Jingzhe was surprised. “That’s against the rules.”

“I still have some authority at the Guard Office. You can stay here.” Rong Jiu said calmly.
“As for Bei Fang, I’m afraid I won’t have time to watch over you tonight. No one will bother you.”

It seemed the Guard Office was even aware of Yao Cairen’s situation.

“Thank you, Rong Jiu,” Jingzhe said with a sigh. He was truly exhausted. Having a quiet place to rest and endure the punishment made it easier to relax. “You’re really kind.”

In the darkness, Rong Jiu’s eyes shifted slightly and curved ever so faintly.

like a smile or mockery.

Though Jingzhe was awake, after lying there and chatting for a while, drowsiness crept back in. He’d been tormented all day and burned through energy just trying to suppress the heat in his body. Now that the gazes were gone, his body remained sensitive but was at least tolerable.

After all, once he got used to it, the constant stimulation faded into something nearly ignorable.

But in that haze of half-sleep and half-awareness, Jingzhe’s mind grew foggy. Spending more time with Rong Jiu only made the confusion worse—so much so that he didn’t even realize Rong Jiu had said something.

“…”

“… Why am I so good to you?”

Rong Jiu repeated Jingzhe’s words softly in a distorted, peculiar tone.

But by then, Jingzhe was already asleep and couldn’t hear him.

If he had, he would have wrapped himself in the blanket and bolted out the door because that one sentence and that one voice dripped with unmistakable danger and darkness.

The man lifted the blanket around Jingzhe, revealing a reddened face. In the dim room, Jingzhe’s face was barely visible, but the dampness on Rong Jiu’s fingertips could not be ignored.

His gaze lingered on Jingzhe.

That long stare made the sleeping boy tremble slightly, as if an invisible pressure were slowly enveloping him, layer by layer.

“You’re very interesting.”

Rong Jiu revealed a hint of sinister intent.

Even a little was thick enough to feel like a swamp, ready to swallow someone whole.

In this decaying palace, Jingzhe was an anomaly: He was a bird that had accidentally flown in, trembling pathetically yet strangely enticing.

He was a true accident. A careless accident.

He stumbled into Fengxian Hall, destroyed his own life, and survived by accident.

There was something irresistible about him.

Rong Jiu was well aware of it.

But even more fascinating than Jingzhe himself—

—was his secret.

The man’s fingertip brushed Jingzhe’s red-streaked eyes without hesitation; his touch was laced with intrigue.

So many mysteries were hidden inside him.

One thread tugged could unravel the whole skein.

How many layers must be peeled back before the truth becomes clear?