Half a Quarter of an Hour LaterA quarter of an hour later, Ying Zheng's voice came from outside, deliberately flat yet tinged with awkwardness: "Still not done? Your fingers aren't clean—fiddling with that will hurt your body."
The heat Zhong Li had just managed to suppress surged back to his cheeks in an instant, even the tips of his ears burning red. He hastily smoothed out his crumpled robes—when he'd dressed in a fluster earlier, his sash had slipped to one side and his collar hadn't been aligned, leaving him looking utterly disheveled. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, keeping his head down, his voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "I-I'm done."
Ying Zheng stood with his back to him in the corner of the courtyard. At the sound of movement, he turned slowly. The afterglow of the setting sun fell over him, gilding his faded brocade robe with a light golden hue—and illuminating Zhong Li's current state: the rims of his eyes were faintly red, as if he'd been wronged; his cheeks were so flushed they looked ready to bleed; his robes were messy, and his right hand still trembled slightly.
Ying Zheng's gaze lingered on him for a moment, and an unexpected thought crossed his mind: this young eunuch was actually quite good-looking, but… his conduct was truly improper, harboring such a private habit.
"Come sit," Ying Zheng withdrew his gaze, nodding toward the stone bench in front of the house. His tone gave no hint of anger or pleasure. "You must have broken a sweat after all that fuss inside—sit and rest for a while."
"N-No need!" Zhong Li shook his head like a rattle, his cheeks growing even redder. "This servant is fine standing—standing doesn't tire me." He'd never experienced such an embarrassing fiasco in his life; even making eye contact with Ying Zheng now felt awkward, let alone sitting close to him.
Ying Zheng's eyes turned colder in an instant, his tone sharpened with edge: "What? Are you defying me? Or do you think I'm so down-and-out now that I don't even have the right to let you sit?"
"No! This servant would never dare!" Zhong Li's heart tightened. He hurried over to sit down, straightening his back rigidly and placing his hands neatly on his knees. "Your Highness is a son of the Dragon, of noble status. This servant is just a 残缺 (castrated) man—how dare I look down on you? You have the true blood of a dragon, born with dignity, and you're exceptionally intelligent. In the future, you will surely…"
He cut off mid-sentence when he noticed the corners of Ying Zheng's stern mouth twitch almost imperceptibly, as if he were holding back a laugh. Zhong Li fell silent, wondering to himself: Was his flattery too fake? He'd clearly modeled it after the "sincere praise" he'd learned in acting class—how had it been seen through?
Ying Zheng didn't tease him further. Sitting up straight, he fixed his gaze on Zhong Li's face, his tone tentative: "Your name is Zhong Li? What errand do you do in the palace?"
"Yes, this servant's humble name is Zhong Li," Zhong Li replied stiffly, twisting the hem of his robe unconsciously. "I'm a cleaning eunuch in the western part of the palace, responsible for tending to the lake and that dilapidated pavilion."
Ying Zheng let out an "oh," raising an eyebrow slightly, his voice laced with doubt: "If you work in the west, why did you appear at my side courtyard yesterday?"
This question hit Zhong Li like a stone to the heart. His breath caught, and his hands clenched tightly, his knuckles whitening. He'd long since prepared an excuse, but he still couldn't help feeling nervous—after all, he was lying to a future tyrant; one misstep and he might give himself away.
"This servant… this servant was tricked by Eunuch Zhao," Zhong Li kept his head down, his voice tinged with grievance, as if he'd truly been wronged. "It was Eunuch Zhao He—he said if I did one thing for him at the side courtyard, he'd help me get an easier errand. This servant thought it would mean less toil, so I went along. Little did I know… little did I know he wanted me to bully you."
He looked up, his eyes filled with guilt, his speech speeding up: "That bowl of porridge yesterday—I really didn't mean to spill it on you! When I saw that group surrounding you and beating you, I was terrified. Then someone shoved me hard, and my hand shook… and it all spilled on you. Your Highness, if you're still angry, you can punish me however you like—I'll accept it." As he spoke, he tried to stand up to bow, but Ying Zheng stopped him with a raised hand.
Ying Zheng saw that the guilt in Zhong Li's eyes didn't seem feigned, and the last of his resentment toward the "original owner" (of Zhong Li's body) faded a little. Still, the thought that his side courtyard had become a "stepping stone" for someone else's promotion made him feel a twinge of irony. Taking a deep breath, he said in a flat tone: "Stand up. This isn't your fault—it's Zhao He's."
"Thank you, Your Highness!" Zhong Li breathed a sigh of relief, sitting back down, but he still tensed his nerves—he knew the real test was still to come.
Sure enough, Ying Zheng spoke again, his voice as light as the wind yet carrying a heavy weight: "Then today—bringing me hot food, eating the spoiled rice for me—were you making amends, or pitying me?"
Zhong Li's heart skipped a beat—another trick question. He hesitated for a moment, then looked up at Ying Zheng, his eyes sincere: "Your Highness, do you want the truth?"
Ying Zheng's eyes sharpened instantly, the air around him growing heavier with invisible pressure. Zhong Li instinctively bowed his head slightly, hurrying to say: "The truth is, this servant wants to stay by your side and help you. This servant knows that with your status, you may not need help from a lowly eunuch like me, but I am useful! From now on, any more spoiled rice or tattered clothes—give them to me. You don't have to suffer this."
Ying Zheng raised his hand to cut him off, his gaze piercing as he stared at him: "You want to stay and serve me?"
"Yes," Zhong Li nodded without hesitation.
Ying Zheng looked at his determined eyes, then suddenly smiled—a smile that held no clear meaning, neither agreeing nor refusing. He stood up and turned toward the house, his voice drifting back: "You can sleep on the small couch outside tonight. If your stomach still hurts, go to the side room yourself."
"Yes, this servant understands!" Zhong Li quickly agreed, a surge of joy rising in his heart—did this mean Ying Zheng had implicitly allowed him to stay?
But his happiness didn't last long. Ying Zheng turned around again, his eyes darkening slightly, his tone carrying a hint of ambiguous understanding: "Oh, and from now on, when you do 'that kind of thing,' keep your voice down. Don't disturb me. I won't interfere with your habit."
Zhong Li's face exploded into red—redder than ever before. He waved his hands frantically to explain: "Your Highness! This servant didn't—truly didn't! You've misunderstood!"
"That's enough, no need to explain. I understand," Ying Zheng waved a hand, turning to enter the house and leaving Zhong Li standing there, wanting to cry but having no tears.
Understand? What do you even understand! Zhong Li despaired—he now realized this misunderstanding would not be cleared up anytime soon.Inside Fenghe PalaceLoud laughter drifted through the window lattice of Fenghe Palace. Even the palace maids and eunuchs waiting outside couldn't help exchanging glances—Empress Jiang Yan hadn't laughed so heartily in a long time, the last time being when the Emperor had favored the mother of the Third Prince, Hu Hai.
Jiang Yan leaned back on a soft couch, rolling a pearl in her hand, her eyes sparkling as she asked Zhao He, who stood before her: "Is what you say true? That little bastard really drank that spiked porridge? And licked the bowl clean?"
Zhao He immediately put on an obsequious smile, his old face wrinkling like a chrysanthemum, his voice adopting an affected lilt: "Replying to Your Majesty, this servant saw it with his own eyes! The Fourth Prince not only drank it—he even licked the bottom of the bowl clean in the end, not a single scrap of porridge left!"
"Hahaha!" Jiang Yan laughed even more heartily, almost dropping the pearl in her hand. "Good! What a little bastard! His mother, Zhao Ji, relied on her looks to monopolize the Emperor for two months back then, making everyone in the harem jealous. Now her son still has to eat the 'goodies' I deign to give him!"
Zhao He hastened to agree: "Exactly! Beauty Qiao… oh no, Zhao Ji was so powerful back then, but now she's trapped in the cold palace, unable even to protect her own son! How can she compare to Your Majesty? You not only have an outstanding son like the Third Prince, but you also hold power over the harem!"
Flattered, Jiang Yan waved a hand: "You mentioned the young eunuch who delivered the porridge—his name is Zhong Li?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Zhao He nodded. "He's just a cleaning eunuch from the west, with no power or influence. All he thinks about is filling his stomach—very easy to control."
Jiang Yan let out a casual "hmm," tapping her fingers lightly on the arm of the couch: "Since he's sensible, reward him with something nice and promote him a little. It shows I'm fair in rewarding and punishing."
"Yes, this servant obeys your order!" Zhao He quickly agreed.
After Zhao He left, Li Xia, Jiang Yan's personal maid, stepped forward to massage her shoulders, asking softly: "Your Majesty, do you really want to promote Zhong Li? What if he's a spy planted by someone else?"
Jiang Yan opened her eyes, a shrewd glint flashing in her eyes. She tapped Li Xia's forehead: "You're still too young. A rootless servant like him will follow anyone who gives him a little sweetness. Even if he has an owner, later I'll let Hu Hai find some poison to control him—how can we be afraid he won't obey?"
Li Xia suddenly understood, then asked again: "And your reason for dealing with the Fourth Prince—was it really just because of what happened with Zhao Ji back then?"
Jiang Yan let out a sneer, her eyes turning cold: "Zhao Ji's little bit of favor isn't worth me holding a grudge for so long. Have you forgotten? Ying Zheng has had a photographic memory since he was a child—he masters poetry, books, etiquette at the first lesson. Even the royal tutor praised his intelligence. Right now, he's young, his mother has fallen out of favor, and he looks easy to bully. But when he grows up, if the Emperor remembers him, Hu Hai's position as crown prince and my status—won't they both be threatened?"
Only then did Li Xia realize: what the Empress truly feared was Ying Zheng's talent, afraid he would one day threaten the Third Prince's claim to the throne.NightfallAs night deepened, Zhong Li lay on the small couch outside, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. It had only been two days since he'd transmigrated here, yet his life had already completely deviated from his plan to "stay away from the protagonist to stay safe." Not only had he failed to avoid Ying Zheng, but he'd also been forced to stay by his side.
He thought back to his interactions with Ying Zheng over the past two days, and the more he thought, the more he realized the book's description of Ying Zheng as "timid and unambitious" was utterly wrong. Though Ying Zheng seemed down-and-out, he possessed a calmness and sharpness beyond his years. From standing up for him against Zhao He's harassment yesterday to testing him today, there was a quiet steadiness about him. To have survived in the palace under the circumstances of his mother's 失宠 (fall from favor) and the Empress Dowager's suppression—how could he be a simple person?
Zhong Li suddenly felt that perhaps the system's task to "help Ying Zheng ascend the throne" wasn't entirely impossible. Ying Zheng had talent; all he lacked was an opportunity. And he, Zhong Li, might just be the one to give him that opportunity.
Yet when he thought about his current situation, he couldn't help but 苦笑 —not only did he have to curry favor with a future tyrant, but he also had to clear up that damned "habit" misunderstanding, and on top of that, guard against the Empress's schemes. This journey of self-rescue was even harder than when he'd started his own business back then.
"Alright, since I'm here, I'll make the best of it," Zhong Li took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "At least I've taken the first step. Take it slow—I'll survive somehow."
Inside the inner room, Ying Zheng was also awake. Leaning against the head of the bed, he thought about Zhong Li's appearance that day—his restraint when eating the spoiled rice, his embarrassment when misunderstood, and his determination when saying he wanted to stay. This young eunuch was different from all the other servants in the palace: clumsily sincere, yet hiding a subtle cleverness.
"I hope you won't let me down," Ying Zheng murmured to himself, a faint glimmer passing through his eyes—perhaps this young eunuch could truly help him.