9 A Sense of Fragmentation

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When the imperial kitchen brought in the midday meal, Qin Duo had just awakened. He untied a silk ribbon holding back the curtains by his bed, casually gathering his loose hair into a low tie. Draped in slightly oversized sleepwear, he stepped out of the inner chamber.

Qin Xuanxiao looked up and happened to see Qin Duo strolling out with leisurely grace. The dark sleepwear made his skin appear even paler, the contrast stark. The low neckline revealed a red, swollen bite mark on his shoulder and neck, making him look all the more alluring.

Suddenly, Qin Xuanxiao found the entire meal tasteless and irritating, as if craving something else.

He reached out and placed a dish of fish in front of Qin Duo, saying, "Today's new creation from the imperial kitchen—a fish delicacy. Care to try?"

Qin Duo glanced indifferently at the fish dish. "No, I don't eat fish."

Qin Xuanxiao’s hand paused. A dangerous glint flickered in his narrow phoenix-like eyes as he fixed his gaze on Qin Duo, who was methodically rinsing the bowls and plates with tea.

Not fond of fish?

The memory of the confidential report sent by Chi Xuan yesterday flashed through Qin Xuanxiao’s mind. Wen Qinghe, before his illness, often invited neighbors to fish by the river. Because of his fondness for fish dishes, he was known for his culinary skill in preparing fish and occasionally shared his catch with neighborhood children.

That was why Qin Xuanxiao had specially instructed Gou Hongyang to have the imperial kitchen prepare extra fish dishes today.

So why refuse fish now?

Without showing any emotion, Qin Xuanxiao put the dish back and sat down to dine, his eyes intermittently flicking over to the man beside him like a wolf eyeing its prey.

Qin Duo ate with exquisite manners, jade chopsticks held elegantly between slender fingers. He took only small portions of each dish, eating with restraint, slowly but neatly. There was no hint of preference or hunger.

His every movement resembled that of a noble or a member of a distinguished clan.

Perhaps this was the Wen family’s cultivation? Qin Xuanxiao suppressed his doubts.

After the meal, Gou Hongyang cleared the table, and Qin Xuanxiao snapped his fingers to place a bowl of thick, pitch-black medicinal broth on the table.

Qin Duo hesitated.

“Your Majesty,” Qin Duo said, feeling robust now, pointing at the life-threatening-looking broth with a refusal in his eyes, “I don’t want to lose next year’s salary as well.”

“If you don’t drink willingly, I can feed it to you.”

Qin Duo was speechless.

Then, resolutely, he took up the bowl, closed his eyes as if facing death, and drained the broth in one gulp.

He slammed the bowl down on the table in resentment, clutching his chest to suppress the rising nausea and urge to vomit.

“Are you afraid of bitterness?” Qin Xuanxiao suddenly leaned closer, eyes fixed on Qin Duo’s expression with certainty.

Qin Duo rolled his eyes and ignored him. Only when the bitter taste in his mouth began to fade did he speak, making a request: “When can I go home?”

“Go home?” Qin Xuanxiao’s palm climbed to the back of Qin Duo’s neck, his thumb tracing the slight pulse in his vein.

He ground his teeth; the feeling of holding another’s life entirely in his hand thrilled him.

His voice took on a hint of menace: “You said you wanted the status of a male consort, so why go home instead of staying in the palace?”

As he spoke, Qin Xuanxiao drew closer. Qin Duo tilted his head back, only to feel the cool breath on his neck and the soft touch of lips against his skin.

Instantly alert, Qin Duo thought, This dog is about to bite again!

He slapped Qin Xuanxiao’s hand away and pushed his head back, mildly scolding, “No touching.”

“I never said I wouldn’t live in the palace. I’ll just go home to pack my things and bring all my bundles here in a few days. Then I hope Your Majesty won’t refuse to open the palace gates and take me in.”

Qin Xuanxiao blinked in surprise, eyes widening slightly.

He had imagined this man fleeing, or using the excuse of staying away from the palace and him, or stalling for time by hiding behind the ministers and asking for protection.

But he never expected him to mean it—truly intending to come to the palace, with no thought of escape.

Qin Xuanxiao had read the collected information: Wen Qinghe was a typical contemporary civil official, a bookworm clinging to rigid principles and classic texts, inflexible and timid, unfit for great responsibility.

Yet such a person excelled at exams and had decent memory; “bright at thirty with the classics, young yet already a successful candidate at fifty”—he did have some ability.

In his twenties, he passed the palace exam, became a scholar at the Wen Yuan Pavilion for three years, was awarded a seventh-rank official post, then muddled through five or six years of minor roles.

No major faults, kept a low profile, stirred no trouble, worked diligently and conscientiously, spoke proper etiquette and governance, lived a frugal scholar’s life, neither bullied the weak nor dared defy superiors, gradually rising to the fifth rank.

Among the young from modest families, he had some reputation and influence.

But Wen Qinghe’s ceiling was that position; moving higher would involve entangling with powerful scholarly clans.

Though surnamed Wen, he was from a distant branch of the Wen family, now dwindled to a single member—Wen Qinghe himself.

His ability could not break through that social stratum.

This was all from Chi Xuan’s gathered intelligence.

There was no hint from the records that this man could be as brazen, arrogant, carefree, fearless, and... disrespectful of hierarchy as the man before him.

The Wen Qinghe in the files was meek and unworthy, while this one before him carried the aura of a sovereign lord.

Qin Xuanxiao could not fathom those ink-black eyes or what his actions truly aimed to achieve.

He seemed riddled with contradictions, as if shedding the skin of Wen Qinghe to reveal another soul entirely, existing in a different, vast world.

Qin Xuanxiao stood stunned in the hall, watching Qin Duo’s retreating figure bathed in the fierce noon sunlight, as if gilded in dazzling gold.

After a moment’s daze, Qin Xuanxiao lowered his gaze and smiled softly, the confusion in his eyes fading, replaced by a cold sharpness.

“Gou Hongyang, escort Minister Wen home. Don’t let him die halfway.”

Not understanding didn’t mean being led by the nose. This was just a curious plaything. It seemed amusing now, so he’d spare this life for a couple more days.

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“Chi Xuan.”

A shadow of red and black flashed forward, kneeling before Qin Xuanxiao.

“Send someone to follow Wen Qinghe, monitor him closely. Bring back every word, every action for my report.”

“Understood.”

—

Fortunately, there was Gou Hongyang.

Qin Duo thought so as he spotted a door in the distance.

So this was Wen Qinghe’s home.

His memory of Wen Qinghe was sparse, and he hadn’t known the location of his residence until Qin Xuanxiao had the chief eunuch escort him here.

Gou Hongyang was taciturn; no matter how Qin Duo tried to start a conversation, the old eunuch never spoke.

Qin Duo was quite satisfied with that—it was better for someone close to the emperor to keep their lips sealed.

After delivering him, Gou Hongyang bowed and left.

Qin Duo stood before the somewhat aged, faded door and knocked on the ring handle.

Creak.

The door opened, revealing a young teenager inside. Upon seeing Qin Duo, his face brightened with joy.

“Master!” The boy pushed the door open and grasped Qin Duo’s arm, eyes glistening as if about to cry. “You’ve finally returned!”

At that instant, fragments of memory flickered through Qin Duo’s mind.

These were Wen Qinghe’s memories.

This boy was Sanjiu, whom Wen Qinghe had rescued. That winter, heavy snow collapsed houses and froze many to death.

Sanjiu, then a small child, clutched a cloth quilt dug from the snow and huddled by a stone lion’s corner outside a neighbor’s door, seeking shelter from the cold wind.

Wen Qinghe, a scholar preparing for provincial exams, had lost both parents, left with only a residence in the capital, meager inheritance, and a few acres of farmland on the outskirts.

With no income, living frugally on his parents’ savings, life was modest at best.

Walking the stone-paved alley, carrying heavy books in a box on his back, the snow crunched underfoot, the wind biting like knives cutting his face.

The neighbors flung dirty water outside the door and cursed the child, “Get lost! Don’t freeze to death at our master’s doorstep—bad luck!”

Wen Qinghe’s heart softened; he called the boy inside and served a bowl of warm rice soup.

Sanjiu did not reach out for the soup but knelt down, promising he could work and eat little, only asking for a shelter to survive the winter.

Wen Qinghe agreed. Sanjiu became his study boy, clever and attentive.

Later, Wen Qinghe passed the imperial exams and was appointed an official. Sanjiu diligently maintained the household in order.

Qin Duo’s mind drifted, and to outsiders, he seemed lost in place.

Sanjiu anxiously asked, “Master, are you alright?”

Qin Duo looked down at Sanjiu and sighed silently.

Wen Qinghe, like many quiet commoners, focused on his small household, busy and self-protective, kind-hearted and aware of right and wrong.

Though lacking the vision or ambition to care for the entire realm, in a small county, he could have been a benevolent official.

He was the face of most people in the world.

But sadly... the sudden onset of heart disease changed this minor official’s life and pulled Qin Duo into this era.

“Master? Master?”

Sanjiu’s voice brought Qin Duo back to reality. He shook his head and said, “Nothing. Come inside.”

Sanjiu followed behind, sensing something major was different about his master’s return.

Warm water simmered on the teapot in the inner room. Qin Duo took the cup, sipping lightly to moisten his dry throat from the walk.

Sanjiu busied himself, fetching three silver currency contracts from the cabinet. “Master, you asked me last time to exchange the few acres of farmland on the outskirts for silver. Here they are. Remember to get medicine from the clinic.”

Qin Duo recalled the memory: Wen Qinghe sold family assets for medicine to treat his illness.

The savings from the past two years had been depleted, but the medicine couldn’t stop. Precious household items had to be pawned continuously. These few acres were the last things to sell; after that, only the house remained.

Sigh.

After handing over the money, Sanjiu brewed the last remaining tea leaves.

Qin Duo sat back in a bamboo chair and glanced over. It was plain green tea.

“Master, you scared me these past days. You missed the last court session, and I heard rumors all over the city saying that His Majesty had...”

Sanjiu swallowed the unpleasant words and cautiously peered at Qin Duo. “Does your return mean those rumors were false? I was furious at those spreading lies—I should have beaten them up then and there.”

Qin Duo drained his cup and set it down. Seeing this, Sanjiu quickly refilled it.

“Let them talk. Why get angry?” Qin Duo lightly scraped the tea foam with the cup lid and asked calmly.

“I’m angry, of course! You’re the link between poor families and aristocrats, a young civil official, yet His Majesty’s actions trample the dignity of the civil officials and the noble families!”

Click.

The cup lid was gently but distinctly placed on the cup.

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Sanjiu stiffened, heart pounding. He looked up at Qin Duo, who still wore a kindly expression, and quietly relaxed.

He continued, “But since you’re back, those rumors are baseless. I wonder if His Majesty has shown any intention of granting you a consort title. If so, your career would be safe.”

“You seem well-informed.” Qin Duo lowered his eyes, returning the cup to the table with a smile. “Too bad, even without such an intention, my career has advanced rapidly.”

“Ah?” Sanjiu was startled.

“Sanjiu.” Qin Duo didn’t want to argue with him and gave instructions. “Take one silver coin and go buy new fabric at the market. Have the tailor sew me several sets of undergarments and middle garments. We have enough outer robes at home, so no need to buy more.”

“Master?”

Qin Duo added, “If there’s any money left, buy some daily necessities.”

Sanjiu was puzzled, a question mark forming above his head. “What about medicine?”

Qin Duo smiled faintly, eyes downcast, serene. “No need for medicine anymore. Someone’s taken care of all my treatments recently.”

...Though he didn’t know when he’d repay the salary debt.

No matter—what of it if the emperor was providing medicine for his ancestor? Qin Duo felt justified.

He stood and walked to Wen Qinghe’s bookshelf, scanning the volumes stored there.

Mostly classics of rites and music, scriptures, and exam papers.

“By the way, when you go back, bring me two history books,” he said while rummaging through the room, not looking back. “From the reign of Emperor Wei Chenglie to the present.”

Sanjiu’s confusion deepened. “History books?”

“Yes. Hurry up.”

Sanjiu, puzzled, left the room.

Qin Duo’s hands never ceased their tasks, but his gaze followed Sanjiu’s departing figure.

This boy was impatient, too eager. If he didn’t control his words carefully, he’d be easily seen through.

Qin Duo had been emperor for twelve years in his previous life—he had seen all kinds of people.

Some flattering, some with ulterior motives, some malicious, some forced to speak politely, and some cursing him outright.

It was obvious—he could tell at a glance, hear at once, the hidden meanings beneath words.

Poor Wen Qinghe. Even the only person by his side harbored small schemes.

There weren’t many belongings left at home, and some didn’t need to be taken—everything was available in the palace.

Qin Duo took out seasonal clothes, two sets of court robes, a tablet, the property deed, and his identification token from the wardrobe, packing them into a travel bag.

The remaining brushes, ink, and bedding would definitely be provided by the palace.

Just packing his bag made Qin Duo feel dizzy and short of breath.

His body was in terrible shape.

He leaned against the wall, sat on the bed, removed his outer robe, closed his eyes, and tried to steady his breathing.

After resting for a long while, he finally recovered.

Now he deeply missed his previous body—strong and resilient, a warrior unmatched on the northern frontier, drinking snow water and eating raw meat, wielding a broken spear to slay enemies.

Not bulky, but athletic, muscles sleek and firm. His face could be described as “sword-browed, bright-eyed, and jade-like.”

Even a busy emperor could keep fit with some effort, effortlessly staying up several nights.

He longed for that strong body.

Looking at his current state—no more than a few taels of flesh, thin and fragile, the likeness of a weak scholar—he was so feeble!

Qin Duo silently resolved to make exercise a priority.

He then examined his appearance in a bronze mirror, held before his face.

Hmm... The shape of his brows and eyes bore some resemblance to his previous life. The shape of his face was somewhat similar to Xia Ting’s.

What a strange coincidence.

Before he could ponder further, Sanjiu’s voice came from outside: “Master, I’m back!”

Sanjiu was efficient; he bought everything quickly.

He pushed open the door, placed the purchases on the desk, and returned the remaining silver coins to their box.

“The fabric has been sent to the tailor. I’ll pick it up at noon tomorrow.”

Qin Duo nodded, then heard Sanjiu say, “On my way back, I met Lord Liu. He heard you returned and wanted to visit. He’s already waiting at the door. Master, do you want to go welcome him?”

Lord Liu? Must open the door to greet him?

Qin Duo raised an eyebrow.

“Sanjiu, invite him in.”

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