The Human Pillow and the Cramp of Doom
I honestly do not know what is happening to my psychological wiring anymore.
A few hours ago, I was completely ready to defenestrate myself to escape this royal menace. Yet, just a moment ago, instead of using all my civilian might to shove his heavy, high-realm cultivation body off of me, I actually *consoled* him.
In my own bizarre, past-life way, I gave the future supreme ruler of the Yang Kingdom rhythmic grandfatherly head pats.
*Sighs*~* I don't know what kind of imperial trauma he just walked away from, but I could feel a profound, heavy depression rolling off him in waves.
But let's be entirely real for a second: being bound to this Crown Prince has turned my whole world completely upside-down in a matter of seconds.
It is deeply, profoundly depressing that me—a man who possesses a fifty-year-old, battle-tested corporate soul—cannot handle a single, twenty-something royal brat!
He is so fundamentally different from any toxic stakeholder, corrupt CEO, or difficult client I ever encountered in my previous life.
The sheer unpredictability of his character is enough to give my newly transmigrated body a literal heart attack. I genuinely cannot understand what goes on inside his mind.
Is this just how royal families behave when they encounter a weak, uncultivated human like myself? Do they just automatically deploy the "human plushie" protocol?
As you already know, I am still securely trapped under the Crown Prince's heavy embrace.
Ever since he dropped onto me like a solid marble monument, I haven't been able to move even a single inch.
And why haven't I moved? Because I physically *can't*!
Even in his supposed deep sleep, he is hugging me so tightly that I am completely, utterly immobile.
My circulation is actively cutting off, and I am 100% certain that I am currently developing a catastrophic, life-threatening leg cramp.
I have absolutely no idea what time it is. The sky outside the lattice windows is still dark, and that absolute idiot of a System is still nowhere to be found.
*Some advanced transmigration program you are, 888! Leaving your host to suffer a biological hardware failure under a sleeping tyrant!*
Finally, the pain in my lower back reaches an absolute boiling point. I decide then and there:
I am not going to sit around and wait until he wakes up. If I stay in this position until dawn, my fifty-year-old spine will literally fracture into premium silk dust. I will be an absolute goner.
I carefully, meticulously begin to move my hand, bracing my palm against his iron-clad chest to slowly, quietly push the brat away.
But the exact millisecond my fingers exert a fraction of pressure, the world shifts.
*Tighten!*
The muscular arm around my waist instantly constricts like a high-tier spiritual python, locking me right back down against the mattress.
I sharply freeze, my breath hitching as I look up at the face of the blue-eyed devil looming directly over me.
*THE F*CK?!*
I swear, if his grip weren't completely paralyzing my upper torso, I would have instinctively launched a macho, middle-aged corporate punch directly into his perfectly sculpted nose!
Longwei Zian is not asleep. He isn't even groggy. He is looking down at me, his striking blue eyes wide open and gleaming with a deeply teasing, completely devilish smile.
"Oh," Zian murmurs, his baritone voice incredibly smooth, completely devoid of the exhaustion from earlier.
"What a beautiful sight to wake up to."
I instantly level the most furious, venomous glare I can muster at him. I refuse to speak. Gosh, how completely and utterly despicable!
This royal psychopath was just pretending to sleep the entire time, and my naive, grandfatherly soul didn't even notice the hoax! He let me pat his head! He let me get a muscle cramp!
"Ah, don't look at me like that," the Prince purrs, his smile widening into something dangerous as his gaze tracks my thoroughly flushed, indignant expression.
"I am trying my absolute best to exercise royal restraint here, you know. You look so incredibly seductive when you glare at me like that... it makes me want to completely devour you whole."
*Seductive?!* I scream internally, my brain hitting a pitch that could shatter imperial porcelain.
*I am glaring at you with the raw, unadulterated desire to commit regicide, you pervert! There is nothing seductive about corporate rage!*
I refuse to buy into his words for a single second. I know for a fact that he is just playing with his food, teasing me to watch me squirm.
Channeling every ounce of my inner macho man, I maintain my fierce glare, refusing to show a single shred of fear.
"Will you please stop teasing me, Your Highness?" I state, my voice cutting through the dim room with serious, unyielding corporate gravity.
"I do not know what game you are currently playing, or what you are up to, but I am absolutely not going to oblige."
I look him dead in the eyes, setting a hard boundary like a manager dealing with a rogue intern.
For a long moment, the Prince just stares down at me. Then, as if my serious attitude just sucked all the fun out of his morning amusement, he lets out a soft, amused huff.
It seems he finally got bored of teasing me, because the dark, playful glint in his eyes completely vanishes.
Without saying another word, he smoothly releases his grip, rolls off my suffocating frame, and stands up from the bed in one elegant, fluid motion.
I grab the golden opportunity with both hands. The very second the weight leaves my chest, I scramble off the plush imperial mattress and stand up as well, desperately trying to re-establish my personal space.
*CRACK.*
"Oh my God!"
I internally whimpered, grabbing my lower torso. The heck, my back severely hurts! My fifty-year-old soul is trapped in a youthful body, but that imperial bed lock just gave me the sciatica of a century!
The Crown Prince completely ignores my internal physical collapse. He doesn't utter a single syllable. Instead, he glides elegantly across the room toward his massive, lacquered study table.
He sits down smoothly in his grand chair, completely shifting his aura back into that of a cold, majestic ruler.
He reaches out, calmly picking up one of the heavy parchment scrolls piled high on the desk—reports detailing the empire's economy, foreign requests, and military logistics.
He begins to read as if nothing had ever happened. As if he hadn't spent the last few hours using me as a literal luxury plushie.
*The f*, seriously?!*
Once again, I am left standing in the middle of the room, completely unable to decipher this prince's character.
One minute he's a crying toddler, the next he's a boundary-crossing pervert, and now he's an model CEO? This transmigration mission is going to be the absolute death of me.
=====°°°°°
Spy Games and Baby Tantrums
Meanwhile, miles away from the silent tension of the imperial bedchamber, the atmosphere inside the luxurious Tang Clan Manor was significantly louder and vastly more unhinged.
*Click. Scan. Save to System Logs.*
System 888's digital consciousness was currently hovering invisibly in the rafters of the Great General's private meeting room.
Following its Host's strict corporate orders, it was diligently spying on the Great General Tang—and oh boy, the data it was collecting was absolutely premium-tier gossip.
Right now, the fearsome, legendary Great General was in the middle of throwing what could only be described as a massive, toddler-level baby tantrum.
"What did you just say?!"
General Tang roared, his face turning an aggressive shade of crimson as he slammed his heavy fist onto a solid mahogany table, splintering the wood instantly. Anger and unbridled fury vibrated through his high-realm voice.
"Why on earth is the King still alive?! He should be completely dead by now!"
Opposite the raging general stood a man dressed in the high-status, lavish robes of an imperial official. Despite his high rank in the court, the official was currently trembling like a wet leaf in a hurricane.
"G-Great General Tang... we also have absolutely no clue what happened!" the official stammered, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold his ceremonial fan.
"We used the most lethal, highly concentrated poison this entire world has to offer! A single drop should have melted his spiritual pool instantly! But somehow, the King's internal Qi is still enduring it! But please do not worry, Great General... any day now, his life force will inevitably fade, and he will be gone for good!"
"You had better make absolutely sure about it!" General Tang hissed, his eyes narrowing into venomous slits as he unleashed a crushing wave of dark aura into the room.
"If the King survives this week, your entire family line will suffer the exact same excruciating fate right along with you!"
The official practically collapsed to his knees, completely drenched in cold sweat from the sheer weight of the General's murderous spiritual pressure.
Up in the rafters, System 888 casually recorded the entire treasonous interaction in crystal-clear 4K quality.
"Ah!" the System chimed mentally to itself, its digital processors whirring with immense amusement.
"What an incredibly moody, dramatic General. Well, I've officially hit the jackpot of interesting political information! I must head back to my dramatic old-geezer Host right now to tell him absolutely everything that is going down in the Tang residence."
With a swift *zap*, the digital drone vanished from the manor, racing back to the palace to deliver the explosive update.