“Second Young Master, it is time to rise.”
The maid Qingmei’s voice filtered through the heavy bed curtains and reached Song Pu’s ears.
Song Pu rolled over and pretended not to hear.
Qingmei stepped a little closer and said gently, “Second Young Master, if you delay any longer, it will be difficult to explain to His Majesty.”
The moment he heard the words His Majesty, Song Pu shot upright like a carp leaping from water.
Seeing him rise through the bed curtains, Qingmei visibly relaxed. A smile spread across her face as she said softly, “Second Young Master, breakfast has been prepared in the kitchen, and the carriage is ready. We are only waiting for you.”
Song Pu rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed unwillingly. Qingmei moved to dress him, but he refused.
He dressed himself in the rather complicated robes, and only after fastening a red belt trimmed with gold thread and set with a piece of warm white jade was he properly attired.
It was only the hour of Yin, still pitch-dark outside, yet Song Pu already had to get up and prepare for work.
Calling it work was not quite accurate. He was essentially risking his life to keep that tyrant company.
The tyrant had only recently recovered from an illness. Even after regaining his health, he had no intention of attending court and spent his days amusing himself in the harem. He had summoned several sons of high officials into the palace to serve as companions, and the original owner of this body, “Song Pu”, had been selected.
Forced to attend upon the tyrant, he had once witnessed the tyrant order a young eunuch to be flayed alive. Terrified out of his wits, “Song Pu” had been carried back from the palace, fallen gravely ill, and died.
That was when Song Pu transmigrated into this body.
The tyrant’s name was infamous. Song Pu remembered it clearly, and he knew at once that he had transmigrated into a novel. Of all possible roles, he had ended up beside the greatest villain of them all.
He recognised the name “Song Pu”. Early in the original story, “Song Pu” was framed for violating a concubine of the imperial harem and incurred the tyrant’s wrath. The tyrant had him torn apart by five horses and hung upon the city wall to dry like preserved meat.
“Song Pu” had an elder legitimate brother. After inheriting the ducal title, that brother would later conspire with the novel’s protagonist, working from within and without to bring about the tyrant’s downfall and avenge his younger brother.
Counting forward, there were still nine years until the tyrant’s spectacular demise.
When he had first arrived in this world, Song Pu had been so anxious that he could barely sleep at night. Even in dreams he died in all manner of bizarre ways. His spirits were terrible, yet his body stubbornly recovered from illness far better than before.
Yesterday several imperial edicts had arrived, ordering him to return to the palace once he recovered.
No matter how he tried, Song Pu could not find an excuse to refuse.
The father of this body, Duke Song, also had to attend morning court and rose at roughly the same time. By the time Song Pu came out, the duke had already finished breakfast and was waiting energetically in the carriage.
Song Pu climbed aboard and glanced cautiously at his father. He had intended to complain first about how great the pressure on him was and how he could hardly eat. Before he could speak, Duke Song spoke first.
“A southern tributary state has presented a troupe of dancers. They entered the palace only a few days ago. I hear His Majesty has been in rather a good mood recently. Be obedient when you attend him. Speak little, do little, and never draw attention to yourself. Your father still enjoys a little favour before His Majesty, so he will not make things too difficult for you. Do you understand?”
Song Pu nodded vigorously like a pecking chicken, then asked cautiously, “What if His Majesty still makes things difficult for me?”
Duke Song was not old, only thirty-eight. His face was as fine as carved jade and his eyes bright and lively, a thoroughly handsome man. Unfortunately he wore two moustaches above his lip and another long one on his chin, which made the overall effect rather incongruous.
The duke himself seemed unaware of this. Whenever he spoke he would unconsciously stroke the beard he had cultivated for years, adopting a grave and dignified air.
After hearing Song Pu’s question, he pondered for a moment, sighed, and said, “If the ruler commands a subject to die, the subject cannot refuse. Do not worry. Your father will prepare your funeral arrangements.”
Song Pu: “…”
Hearing this only made Song Pu more anxious.
Although he was male, his pain sensitivity was unusually high. Even the slightest pain would be magnified several times over. Sometimes merely stubbing his toe could make him howl in agony.
With such a constitution and such circumstances, how could he not worry?
Although he had transmigrated into another person’s body, this sensitivity to pain had followed him here as well. After asking Qingmei, who had long served “Song Pu”, he learned that the original owner had the same condition.
Moreover, “Song Pu” looked exactly like him, and even the moles on their bodies were in the same places. This made Song Pu suspect he might have transmigrated physically rather than merely possessing the body.
Only their ages did not match. In his original world he had been twenty, yet here he was only seventeen.
Full of worry, Song Pu lifted the heavy carriage curtain. The edge of the sky was beginning to glow faintly. Turning his gaze, he could already see the majestic silhouette of the imperial city in the distance.
“Father, if the emperor doesn’t even attend court any more, why do you still go? Wouldn’t it be better to rest at home?” Song Pu asked casually.
Duke Song replied, “It is the duty of a subject to attend court.”
Song Pu paused, then understood.
A boss might choose not to come to work, but employees could hardly go on strike.
When father and son reached the foot of the imperial city, it was time for them to part ways.
Song Pu had always been independent and rarely troubled his family with his problems. But in this world things were different. There was very little he could do.
As Duke Song had said, if he truly angered the emperor, the best he could do was try not to implicate his family. After all, in ancient times the extermination of nine generations was hardly unheard of.
In his memory, that tyrant acted entirely without restraint. He was a violent madman. A trembling eunuch who spilled tea might be flayed alive. Palace maids and eunuchs might be whipped simply because the emperor was in a foul mood.
Even the sons of high officials were not spared.
While “Song Pu” had been bedridden, the legitimate son of the Vice Minister of War had been flogged. One lash had struck his face, and the barbs on the whip tore away a piece of flesh, leaving him disfigured.
In short, that man was a tyrant in every sense of the word.
If this were a television drama, Song Pu probably would not survive even one episode.
No matter how afraid he was, the fact that he had to attend upon that man could not be changed. All he could do was remain careful and avoid attracting attention.
At least, that had been his original plan.
Unfortunately things did not go as planned. Perhaps because he had been absent for too long, the emperor remembered him.
When the tyrant was in a normal mood, he almost seemed human. He was only a little over twenty and possessed some foreign ancestry. His nose was high, his eyes deep-set, and his skin extremely pale with an almost translucent quality.
His pupils were unusual as well, a vivid pale gold like the blazing sun.
His build was not bulky, but his shoulders were broad and his waist narrow, his proportions excellent, which made him appear taller than those around him.
At that moment the tyrant, Tantai Yi, greeted Song Pu with a faint smile.
“Minister Song, you have been resting for several months. Are you feeling better now?”
Song Pu bowed tremblingly and replied with utmost respect, “Thank you for Your Majesty’s concern. This subject is much improved.”
Tantai Yi nodded. “In that case, accompany me to the training ground for a little practice.”
Song Pu wanted to say he could not do it, but the words rolled back down his throat. He obediently followed.
The other young masters summoned to attend the emperor had also arrived. Before Tantai Yi they stood silent, heads lowered as much as possible so as not to draw his notice.
The eunuchs serving nearby also kept their heads bowed, not daring to look directly at the imperial face. The atmosphere was stiff and strangely tense.
Tantai Yi, however, seemed entirely at ease.
Beside him stood the chief eunuch Cao Xi and several junior eunuchs, together carrying an enormous bow. It appeared extremely heavy. Even with several of them lifting it together, the wrists visible outside their sleeves trembled slightly.
Tantai Yi reached out and took the bow with ease. The grip was wrapped in animal hide to prevent slipping, and the bow itself was set with gold and jade that glittered in the sunlight.
Compared with the massive bow in his hand, nearly two metres long, the one Song Pu received was much smaller and easy to hold.
Tantai Yi drew the bowstring and released it. The sound rang out crisp and clear, like shattering jade.
He weighed the bow in his hand and said to Song Pu, “I have heard that Minister Song excels at riding and archery. Today I will compete with you. Do your best. I do not wish to be indulged. Do you understand?”
His tone was rather gentle.
Song Pu replied submissively, “This subject understands.”
He actually was good with a bow. His family had not been wealthy, but his parents had encouraged his hobbies. Since childhood he had joined archery clubs and even won three consecutive national youth championships.
Later, when schoolwork grew heavier, he practised less. Still, the muscle memory remained.
He nocked an arrow, adopted a proper stance, and focused intently on the target.
But… when Tantai Yi said he did not want to be indulged, was that truly what he meant? What if it was merely polite talk? If Song Pu performed too well, would it anger him?
As this thought occurred to him, his concentration faltered.
Tantai Yi added beside him in a slow, soft voice, “Minister Song, an arrow should not remain on the string for too long.”
Song Pu’s fingers trembled.
The arrow flew with a sharp whistle and struck the centre of the target.
Song Pu: “…”
He glanced nervously at Tantai Yi’s expression. Seeing the emperor narrow his eyes and smile slightly, apparently pleased, he breathed a small sigh of relief.
Tantai Yi raised the great bow that was taller than himself. An intimidating aura radiated from him as he drew the string.
The arrow shot out.
With tremendous force it split Song Pu’s arrow already lodged in the bullseye, pierced the target entirely, and continued on to strike a tree more than a hundred metres behind it.
“Minister Song, it seems you are far inferior to me,” Tantai Yi said.
Song Pu stared in shock. Coming back to himself, he offered sincere flattery.
“Your Majesty’s martial skill is unmatched. From a hundred paces you never miss your mark. This subject cannot hope to rival you.”
The tyrant looked at him, his gaze sharpening slightly. Then he suddenly laughed.
“Minister Song.”
He called out abruptly.
Song Pu froze and did not dare raise his head. “This subject is here.”
Tantai Yi took another arrow from the tray held by a young eunuch. Drawing the bow again, he aimed at the target.
Then, without warning, he shifted the direction of the bow and pointed the arrow directly at Song Pu.
Sensing something, Song Pu lifted his eyes slightly and met the cold gleam of the arrowhead.
His eyes widened in terror. “Y-Your Majesty?”
