5 The children are so cruel.

Tick.
Tick.

The faint sound of dripping water ground softly against the stone slabs and walls, winding its way along until it gathered at a bulge in the ceiling, condensing into a single droplet before suddenly falling.

Tick.

The droplet landed on Qin Duoye’s forehead, then trickled down his cheek, from his chin to his neck, soaking into his collar.

Qin Duoye blinked, shaking off the tiny droplets clinging to his eyelashes.

His feet barely touched the ground; his hands were shackled separately in heavy iron cuffs, suspended high on either side, a posture that was uncomfortable. The skin on his wrists was soon rubbed raw and flushed red.

Qin Duoye recognized this as a special kind of water prison. Though it wasn’t filled with water, the dark, damp cell, the humid air, and the puddles gathering on the floor, combined with the constant droplets falling from above onto the prisoner’s forehead, inflicted severe psychological torment—far more grueling than a cell filled entirely with water.

Tick.

In such an environment, if interrogations were delayed, it was easy for prisoners to break mentally.

Qin Duoye yawned, his expression relaxed.

He did not worry that Qin Xuanxiao would fail to come.

The art of rulership demanded subtle psychological influence, wielded almost imperceptibly.

In his previous life, he had escaped the tangled web of palace eunuchs and the imperial harem’s intrigue, breaking free from the chains of a puppet emperor and turning the tide. He was well versed in the political entanglements of former courts and palaces.

He opened his eyes from the bed, and even before fully opening them, he was already absorbing information.

Qin Duoye heard the old ministers outside the palace shouting and crying out. Though it sounded like wailing, it was mixed with coercion—the unspoken message being, “If Your Majesty does not concede to our demands, then I will throw myself to my death to prove my resolve.”

This was the struggle between court officials and the emperor.

It seemed that his child from the Qin family did not sit securely on the throne. Which ministers, or rather which factions, harbored dissatisfaction with the emperor?

A dark gleam flashed in Qin Duoye’s eyes.

Of course, he sided with his own kin. In his previous life, he fiercely protected his own. He could not imagine the exhaustion of a child emperor, burdened with reviewing memorials and worrying over the state’s affairs, only to be bullied by ministers who arrogantly feigned ignorance and played the fool to oppress the young sovereign.

Qin Duoye could accept reasoned counsel and logical opposition, but not this disrespectful, disruptive crying and screaming at the palace gates.

Yet, in that situation, he could not truly allow Qin Xuanxiao to kill those ministers. Such escalation would only undermine the emperor’s authority further.

Qin Duoye sighed softly. He had not expected his child to be bullied to such an extent, but thankfully, he had come.

Because conflict existed, he spoke to Qing Xuan in cryptic words, knowing that Qing Xuan would relay every word, verbatim, to Qin Xuanxiao.

The young emperor, despite his audacity, did not kill him but instead, in frustration, sent himself to the Department of Punishments. He would surely come to see him.

So Qin Duoye remained calm and leisurely yawned again.

He was sleepy.

“This body is strangely lacking in energy. In my previous life, I could review memorials for twelve consecutive hours without changing expression.”

Back then, fighting enemies in the northern border, he had to squeeze in rest whenever possible; no matter how harsh the environment, once his eyes closed, he could sleep, and any slightest disturbance could wake him. Now, just standing and being a bit wet was trivial.

“Haah.”

Qin Duoye yawned again, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. He shook his head, tossing the wet hair from his forehead aside, closed his eyes, and prepared to sleep.

He felt as if he were sinking deep into the sea, or perhaps floating upwards.

Surrounded by darkness, suddenly the sky brightened. He opened his eyes and saw overlapping palace walls, the distant eastern horizon pale with the first light of dawn, streaks of rosy clouds trailing across the sky.

He stood beside several horse-drawn carriages. Figures bustled all around, all dressed in court robes. Occasionally, a more noble head peeked out from a carriage, greeting the varied crowd.

Qin Duoye was momentarily stunned. Where was this? Had his soul entered another body?

Suddenly, he felt a light nudge on his back. An official passed by, holding a tablet, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear: “Wen Qinghe, don’t forget your duties at court today.”

A question mark appeared over Qin Duoye’s head.

This body still belonged to that low-ranking official, but what was this... place?

Though Qin Duoye said nothing, he heard a tiny voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz: “U-understood...”

The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

***

Was this Wen Qinghe’s memory?

Qin Duoye realized that within this memory, he could not control the body’s actions or speech, nor perceive Wen Qinghe’s true thoughts.

He could only see what Wen Qinghe saw, smell what he smelled, and his gaze could only follow Wen Qinghe’s movements.

He saw Wen Qinghe bow his head, then a pair of trembling hands.

The hands were pale, sweating coldly, clutching tightly to a bamboo tablet.

Boom—

The palace bells tolled the fifth watch. The sound was deep and lingering. The officials assembled outside the palace gates began moving, dismounting at the designated post, while one or two carriages still proceeded forward.

Qin Duoye only spared a hurried glance, for Wen Qinghe, anxious and uneasy, glanced up briefly before lowering his head again, silently staring at the tips of his shoes. Qin Duoye could only see the palace path’s stone tiles.

The rules of court attendance were much the same as in his previous life. Civil and military officials entered separately through the Two Poles Gate, proceeding according to rank into the Infinite Hall, where they formed ranks and stood in order.

From the positioning, Qin Duoye deduced Wen Qinghe held a fifth or sixth rank official position.

Upon entering the hall, Qin Duoye clearly felt Wen Qinghe’s legs tremble even more violently.

He wondered why mere court attendance could elicit such fear.

Was it because of the task mentioned earlier?

Qin Duoye chose not to dwell on it, simply waiting to observe the cause and effect of this memory.

The morning court session seemed routine, handling reports from various counties and dispatching several censors for inspection.

But as time passed, Wen Qinghe’s anxiety grew obvious. He trembled like a sieve, breathing rapidly with barely perceptible sobs.

Qin Duoye sensed something unusual.

Finally, as the eunuch declared the court session concluded, someone beside him coughed heavily, loaded with implication.

Wen Qinghe shuddered, then suddenly stepped forward out of line, standing in the center of the vast hall. A chilly wind swept in from outside, slipping down his sleeves, icy cold.

Qin Duoye saw Wen Qinghe bow his head tightly, raised the bamboo tablet, and heard him stammer, “I-I report to Your Majesty... the national rites state...”

His words faltered, lips trembling, nearly biting his tongue.

“The national rites state that after the Son of Heaven ascends the throne, he must immediately confer the title of Empress. Your Majesty ascended amid the late Emperor’s passing, and thus should observe three years of mourning. Now more than four years have passed, yet Your Majesty’s harem remains without a consort to manage affairs. The matter of heirs is crucial to the realm and state; I humbly implore Your Majesty to place the conferment of an Empress on the agenda.”

Qin Duoye sensed Wen Qinghe had summoned all his strength to say this. Then he raised the bamboo tablet high above his head and deeply bowed, not daring to glance even once at the emperor’s seat, his eyes fixed on his shoes the entire time.

A moment of silence hung over the court, then murmurs and whispers began among the ranks.

Occasionally, a louder voice expressed agreement, followed by the mention of several candidates’ names.

Yet no official dared to stand and second the proposal.

The emperor had not spoken; they cunningly waited to see his reaction to Wen Qinghe’s words.

“Oh?” Upon the throne in the Infinite Hall, Qin Xuanxiao leaned forward with interest. “Very well, what is your name?”

“I am your humble servant, Remonstrance Supervisor Wen Qinghe.”

Qin Xuanxiao sneered coldly: “My Lords, I recall someone brought up the matter of conferring an Empress a year ago. How did I respond then?”

The discussion instantly fell silent.

Wen Qinghe’s knees nearly buckled.

“No one remembers?” Qin Xuanxiao’s voice dropped an octave. “Wen, Prime Minister, you respond.”

Because Wen Qinghe kept his head bowed, Qin Duoye could not see the court’s situation, only heard footsteps and a rather aged voice reply:

“Your Majesty, this old servant’s memory fails with years; I cannot recall clearly what happened a year ago.”

Qin Duoye inwardly smiled. He wondered if this Wen family and Prime Minister ancestor was perhaps the same as the Minister of Revenue from his previous life, feigning ignorance just like that old fox.

“If your mind is failing, then retire early and return home. I remember clearly,” Qin Xuanxiao’s voice carried thin anger, “I said that if anyone dared bring up the matter again, I would send them to their death.”

Qin Duoye was speechless.

Such cruelty from a child.

Suddenly, his vision blurred. He watched Wen Qinghe collapse to the ground with a loud thud, the bamboo tablet breaking in two.

“Your Majesty... have mercy...”

Qin Duoye sighed deeply. Obviously, Wen Qinghe had been used as a pawn.

Likely before this court session, someone had secretly stirred the pot, pushing this seemingly weak fifth-rank Remonstrance Supervisor to be the first to speak.

If done well, it would be meritorious; if not, a grave offense.

But looking at the situation now, Qin Duoye could not fathom how Wen Qinghe ended up as a male consort.

They say affection skips generations. Qin Duoye saw his own descendants, spoiled in countless ways.

He was pleased when he realized Qin Xuanxiao was his descendant, believing this young emperor looked promising, full of martial virtue, unlike the debauched rulers of old.

Ah, but this male consort business... ah, private life, well, let it slide. Children have their quirks; as long as it causes no harm, it’s acceptable.

Qin Duoye had thought this young emperor lived a casual private life, but with no one in the harem, why bring Wen Qinghe... Could it be... purely a relationship of affection between men?

Heaven help him—the catchphrase of Fan Jun from the Department of Punishments was truly apt.

“Your Majesty, please calm your anger,” came a cheerful voice. “At your age, surely you need a confidant’s care? Even if not to appoint an Empress, selecting a consort is acceptable.”

There was a few seconds of silence before Qin Xuanxiao’s voice softened considerably: “Grand Tutor Zhou speaks sensibly.”

Feeling the matter might turn, the officials began whispering again. Qin Duoye sensed Wen Qinghe’s body relax slightly, as if relieved but afraid to show it.

Wen Qinghe lifted his head, and Qin Duoye saw the interior of the Infinite Hall.

Officials stood rigidly on either side, a thick carpet stretched from the gates to the hall’s center.

At the front, two elder ministers stood at the center—one slightly stooped, the other with straight, white-haired back.

Above them rose tiered, gilded steps, at the highest point a dragon-carved writing desk. The emperor sat comfortably on the dragon throne, supporting one arm on the armrest, hand resting lightly near his ear.

Qin Duoye could not see Qin Xuanxiao’s expression or features—Wen Qinghe dared not lift his eyes to gaze upon the sovereign’s face.

One official rose and named several eligible young women from the capital; others seconded or proposed additional names.

The families of those chosen showed either surprise or reluctance. The court was like a chessboard, power divided. This appointment of consorts seemed yet another carefully schemed reshuffle.

In the grand hall where sunlight could not reach, countless thoughts quietly blossomed.

Amid the commotion, only Qin Duoye frowned, displeased.

Every official who proposed candidates harbored personal interests and schemes, but none seemed to care for the emperor’s feelings. They only considered which candidate would benefit their own faction, regardless of the emperor’s wishes.

Qin Duoye wished to see Qin Xuanxiao’s expression.

How had his child been bullied to such an extent?

The young emperor was barely grown and already forced into arranged meetings. No, no, Qin Duoye was the first to object.

“Hmph.” Suddenly, a light laugh rang through the court, clear amidst the noisy chatter.

“You all think for me so thoroughly... lacking a caretaker, is it?” Qin Xuanxiao’s voice was icy, the tail end tinged with suppressed amusement, but somehow chilling: “If you all care so much for my harem, why not strip off your official robes and come serve in my palace yourselves?”

The entire court fell into dead silence.

Qin Duoye sensed an extraordinary atmosphere from this silence.

“Since no one objects, I take it as agreement.”

Qin Duoye felt the situation was going awry. He vaguely suspected how Wen Qinghe ended up in Qin Xuanxiao’s bed.

“Then the first to propose this, what was your name? Wen... Qinghe? You must be very willing, yes?”

Wen Qinghe was stunned: “N-no, Your Majesty...”

Qin Xuanxiao’s tone suddenly darkened, loudly commanding: “Guards! Strip Minister Wen of his official garments and send him to the harem!”

Heaven above... Qin Duoye’s vision blacked out repeatedly.

“Wait!” Someone reacted in the court. “Your Majesty! This must not be—”

Before the words were finished, Qin Xuanxiao stood, swept his sleeves, and left, coldly leaving behind two words:

“Dismissed.”