Chapter 2
Fu Ye woke slowly, his entire body aching and burning up.
“What happened?”
Xiao Ai: “I gave you a new persona—sickly but beautiful. The kind of delicate beauty even tyrants can’t help but coddle.”
“Wow. Thanks so much.”
He opened his eyes—only to meet a pair of sharp, predatory eyes. A man with an ashen complexion was staring straight at him.
The man was thin—but it was the kind of thin that looked honed, like a sword. A sword wrapped in deathly stillness. His eyes were narrow, single-lidded, with upturned corners that gave off a cold, mocking, almost hostile vibe.
Even if he were to show someone favor, it’d be the kind where he stepped on their neck while doing it.
Fu Ye: “……”
Yeah, maybe it was best to just pretend to still be unconscious.
“Your Highness, you’re awake,” said an elderly eunuch, immediately stepping forward with a deferential bow.
Judging by his fine robes and air of authority, this was probably the head eunuch.
Realizing he couldn’t keep faking it, Fu Ye sat up. As his gaze met those narrow eyes again, he immediately feigned panic.
“Your Majesty!”
The bedding slipped from his shoulders, revealing a pale, slender neck. His skin was smooth and almost glowed under the light—like jade kissed by snow.
“You look different from when you were little,” the man said suddenly.
Fu Ye: “!!”
“People grow up, after all,” the old eunuch said. “But if you ask me, Your Highness’s mouth and chin do resemble His Majesty’s quite a bit.”
That line reminded Fu Ye of Princess Pearl and that one overly sweet consort.
He used to think she was a fairy when he was a kid. Now he realized she was a palace schemer like the rest of them. He was just about to figure out whether this eunuch was truly kind or just playing the long game—when someone grabbed his chin.
Long fingers with dark knuckles, skin warm but rough—definitely not the hands of someone pampered.
The man studied his face closely.
His hand was hot. His eyes were red. Was this tyrant high on something?!
Fu Ye didn’t dare move.
A sickly-sweet taste welled up in his throat. He clenched his lips shut.
Thankfully, Xiao Ai hadn’t gone too far—he just had a faint coppery taste in his mouth, which he quickly swallowed back. Trying to act endearing, he gave the man a small, timid smile.
To his shock, the man immediately let go of his chin—like he’d just seen a ghost.
……Seriously?
Was his smile that horrifying?
Back in his original world, people always said his smile was dazzling enough to start a fanclub!
The man stood and rubbed his fingers together, as if annoyed by how soft and smooth Fu Ye’s skin had been.
The old eunuch added, “Does Your Highness remember this place? Back in the day, you and His Majesty lived together in the East Wing of Qingyuan Palace.”
Fu Ye could’ve just claimed he didn’t remember.
After all, the sixth prince went missing when he was only six years old—lots of people can’t recall anything from that age.
But his current persona was supposed to be the “perfect recall of palace trivia” type. He had to stay consistent.
“Xiao Ai!”
Xiao Ai: “The hall still looks exactly like it used to.”
Fu Ye followed suit, glancing around and saying with a thoughtful air, “It’s surprising how nothing’s changed in here.”
The Emperor, already at the door, paused and turned back to look at him.
The old eunuch looked genuinely moved. “Indeed, Your Highness. His Majesty never let anyone touch this side hall.”
Xiao Ai: “Your royal brother, though—he’s definitely changed.”
Fu Ye: “……”
He shifted his gaze to Fu Huang’s face.
Coughing softly, he added weakly, “Your Majesty looks so different now—I almost didn’t recognize you.”
……
Chief Eunuch Qin instantly turned pale.
Fu Ye slumped against a pale moon-patterned pillow, his dark hair fanned out behind him, cheeks flushed from the fever—so beautiful and frail it even startled the eunuch.
He glanced back at Fu Huang. The Emperor’s eyes were half-lowered, his expression unreadable, and then—he walked out.
Chief Eunuch Qin quickly said, “His Majesty has changed quite a bit. Your Highness must be careful with your words.”
Even though the Emperor was gone, there were still many black-armored guards with blades stationed outside.
“They’re the Imperial Guards,” the eunuch explained. “They’re here for your protection. Just pretend they’re not there.”
Xiao Ai: “Tyrants really live paranoid lives, huh?”
Fu Ye didn’t have the energy to care. The warmth of the hall was melting away weeks of exhaustion—he hadn’t slept this well in forever.
“The imperial physician just took your pulse,” the eunuch continued. “He says your body is extremely weak and you’ll need complete rest. His Majesty instructed that you’re to stay here as long as needed. If you need anything, just tell the attendants.”
He clapped lightly, and a young eunuch in blue robes stepped forward. He looked to be in his early twenties, with delicate features, though his mouth remained tightly closed and his hands folded in a formal bow.
“This is Qingxi. He and his team will be serving you from now on. Whatever you need, just tell him.”
His name, Qingxi—literally meaning “joyful celebration”—sounded cheerful, but the guy himself looked anything but. Pale, quiet, and ghost-like in presence…
Where’s the “joy” in that?!
Fu Ye was honestly too exhausted to deal with any of it. He just nodded slightly and lay back down. The court eunuchs pulled the curtains shut, and the room fell into dead silence. Even the figure of Qingxi, standing just outside the curtain, looked more like a paper doll—thin and lifeless.
Truth be told, he didn’t want to sleep.
He was afraid he’d die in his sleep.
Xiao Ai: “Go ahead and rest, I’ll check out the storyline in detail for you.”
As soon as the sixth prince fainted in Qingyuan Palace, Eunuch Qin already knew there’d be trouble explaining this to the Empress Dowager. And sure enough, not long after the prince fell asleep, a group of court ladies in ornate palace gowns stepped into the courtyard through the swirling goose-feather snow.
Eunuch Qin immediately stepped forward and bowed. “Lady Sun.”
Lady Sun returned the bow with minimal courtesy. “I come under Her Majesty’s orders to check on the Sixth Prince.”
“The prince just took his medicine and fell asleep,” Eunuch Qin replied.
Lady Sun didn’t budge. “Her Majesty instructed repeatedly that I must see the prince myself.”
“Of course, that’s only proper.”
Lady Sun led her people toward the side hall, giving Eunuch Qin a glance before entering. She saw him already heading back to the main hall.
Not long after they exited the side chamber, they found Eunuch Qin waiting in the courtyard with two imperial physicians. Black-armored guards were posted under the eaves and inside the hall. This small East Wing now resembled a prison.
Eunuch Qin said, “His Majesty asked me to pass a message along with the physicians—Her Majesty knows well how frail the Sixth Prince’s health is. Should anything happen in the future, we fear it may be difficult to explain.”
Lady Sun replied coldly, “Cien Palace has more than enough servants. We wouldn’t mind taking the prince in ourselves. But His Majesty values brotherhood, and Her Majesty won’t argue over sentiment.”
Eunuch Qin lowered his eyes and said nothing. Lady Sun turned and left with her attendants.
Only after exiting the palace grounds did she exhale a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
She really didn’t want this damn job. Unfortunately, in Cien Palace, she was the only one left with the face and standing to deal with these matters. Luckily, she usually dealt with Qin—their rapport helped preserve both her dignity and the Empress Dowager’s.
She could already guess what the Emperor’s original words must’ve been:
“So that when the Sixth Prince dies one day, the Empress Dowager won’t blame me.”
He might appear mad and reckless, but in truth, the Emperor was extremely calculating. No one knew why he insisted on keeping the Sixth Prince by his side. The snow was piling, the wind piercing through the long, quiet palace corridors. Lady Sun looked back at the solemn, secluded Qingyuan Palace. A flock of crows suddenly burst into the air, startling her. The whole scene felt bitterly cold and desolate.
This palace had once been the Emperor’s childhood residence. She used to come here often back then. At that time, he was still a child who respectfully called her “Auntie.” He was a proper, well-mannered boy. Now, looking back… nothing was the same.
In the main hall, Eunuch Qin reported, “Lady Sun has left.”
The Emperor said nothing. Around him, a group of junior eunuchs were busy going through memorials to the throne. The only sounds in the hall were the soft rustling of paper. He lazily picked up a random scroll and read it, clearly disinterested.
Eunuch Qin glanced at him and said, “Your Majesty, there’s no doubt—this is the Sixth Prince.”
Fu Huang replied, “Even if he weren’t, he is now.”
That was true.
The old palace attendants had acknowledged him. The Empress Dowager acknowledged him. And now, the Emperor had too.
Most likely, they did it out of consideration for the late Lady Zhaoyang.
After all, back in the day, the Emperor and the Sixth Prince had spent some time under Lady Zhaoyang’s care. It may not have been all love and harmony, but compared to the other princes, this one had been… at least a little special.
If he hadn’t gone missing, if he’d grown up in the palace—who knows? Maybe the Emperor wouldn’t be so… utterly alone now.
Just as he was deep in thought, Fu Huang said, “He does seem real enough—delicate and affected, just like his mother.”
“…”
Alright then. Clearly, he’d overthought it.
Looked like the Emperor’s days under Lady Zhaoyang’s roof had been even more miserable than expected.
Eunuch Qin silently said a little prayer for the Sixth Prince, currently resting in the side hall.
Meanwhile, Fu Ye had gotten the best sleep in ages. He woke feeling light and refreshed all over. So much time had passed—he wondered if Xiao Ai had dug up any new info yet.
“Xiao Ai? Xiao Ai?”
No response.
He was gone.
Busy, apparently.
He didn’t even have his own dedicated system!
Good thing the Emperor hadn’t come around these past few days. Other than being confined to this courtyard, everything else had been going surprisingly well. The Empress Dowager had people sending tonics every few days, and after being nursed like that, he was practically glowing with energy.
By the seventh day, he finally had a chance to leave the courtyard.
He’d been summoned by the Empress Dowager.
Though he hadn’t met her in person yet, the Empress Dowager had sent a court matron named Aunt Sun to check in on him nearly every day. Sure, royal families didn’t really do “genuine affection,” but compared to the Emperor, who looked like he could kill with just a stare, the Empress Dowager actually seemed… considerate.
That said, leaving the courtyard wasn’t exactly easy. Just getting dressed took him half a day. It was freezing outside, and Qingxi wrapped him up in a crimson cloak gifted by the Empress Dowager. Underneath that were layers upon layers—overly elaborate and way too heavy. His body was weak, thin to the point of fragility, and just wearing all that must’ve added at least ten or fifteen pounds. He barely made it a few steps before he was breathless.
He was surrounded by palace attendants, but not one of them so much as coughed. Whether it was the eunuchs or Lady Sun and the other palace women, everyone dressed in a distinct court style. Each of their collars came up to exactly an inch below the Adam’s apple, stiff and white—probably reinforced with some hard material. Even lowering your head would press painfully against your throat. He figured that was to force everyone to keep their posture perfect.
This palace was weird. The Emperor acted wild and unrestrained, yet all the servants were like soulless machines.
He constantly felt like he was trapped in a dream—a lavish but twisted nightmare. Glancing at his reflection in a bronze mirror, he knew this was his face, but it wasn’t the kind of soft, innocent beauty you’d associate with purity. His looks were vivid, striking, the kind you couldn’t look at for too long. Though he was gaunt and clearly sickly, the intensity of his beauty hadn’t dimmed. His skin had been nourished to a pale, luminous glow these past few days, almost like polished jade. His allure shimmered.
But what really stood out—even more than his face—was his hair.
It was longer than he remembered, cascading all the way down his back, inky black and silky smooth.
Honestly, that hair drew more attention than his features.
“This buff Xiao Ai gave me is kinda ridiculous,” he muttered. “In ancient times, you could always tell nobles from commoners at a glance—not just by clothes, but by physical traits too. Skin, teeth, posture… that sort of thing.”
He had lived like a starving orphan, thin as a rake, jaw so sharp it could poke someone. He looked hauntingly beautiful, sure, but not much healthier than his ghost of an imperial brother. Malnourished people didn’t get to have hair like this.
Not even shampoo commercials promised results this good.
“You don’t get it!” Xiao Ai suddenly popped up. “The Sixth Prince’s mother, Lady Zhaoyang, was famous for her gorgeous hair. That’s your pass—your most important disguise buff!”
“You’re finally back?” Fu Ye grumbled. “How many people are you juggling right now?”
“Hmm, you’re my Host No. 003572.”
“…”
“Main System’s brutal, man. It’s rough out here for working folk. Talking about hair? I’m losing mine. If I don’t get assigned a cushy idle rich life when I retire, I will file a complaint.”
“…”
He’d worked in the quick-transmigration department for so long, he was used to this nonsense by now.
They were all just workers. Solidarity, right?
“You mentioned Lady Zhaoyang just now?” he said, steering the conversation back on track.
“Yup. I just unlocked the Sixth Prince’s character bio.”
Outside, the Empress Dowager’s sedan chair had already arrived. With Qingxi’s help, Fu Ye climbed in. The chair rocked gently as they made their way to Cien Palace.
His residence was far from there, and it was still snowing heavily. The only people outside were the palace staff clearing paths. Though the imperial grounds were massive, everything felt eerily deserted—like he was living in some forgotten cold palace. As they moved, he listened to Xiao Ai’s info dump on the Sixth Prince’s background.
The previous emperor, Wuzong, was notorious for his lust. The palace was packed with beauties, but few truly held his favor. In his later years, only one stood out—Lady Zhaoyang, née Yang.
She had once come from a respectable family, but her life had taken a tragic turn early on. Her uncle had served as an attendant to Crown Prince Mingyi, Wuzong’s elder brother. When the prince died in a riding accident, Emperor Renzong, devastated, ordered all his attendants executed. The Yang family got caught in the fallout, and Yang Shi ended up as a servant in the Zhang household.
At seventeen, she was presented to the palace to serve the then-Empress Zhang—just a palace maid. But she was breathtaking. Said to shine like the summer sun, no one in the harem could rival her charm. Most notably, her hair—black as ink, long enough to sweep the floor, and so lustrous it reflected light.
A beauty like that, working in the Empress’s palace? Of course the Emperor noticed.
But surprisingly, Lady Zhaoyang rejected his advances—four times, to be exact.
Xiao Ai chimed in, “According to the records, she turned Wuzong down four separate times. The Emperor was pissed. It wasn’t until her third year in the palace that she finally agreed to become his consort—and from then on, she had his undivided attention. Compared to Consort Li, the later favorite who was notorious for her arrogance, Lady Zhaoyang had a much better reputation. She got along with the Empress and the rest of the harem. Her rise brought her whole family back to prominence. The Yangs, once disgraced, rose to become one of Jiantai’s most powerful clans.”
In short, Lady Zhaoyang was a rare beauty with a sharp mind.
Unfortunately, fourteen years ago, when the Hu tribes invaded, the capital fell. The royal family fled to the Lihua Summer Palace. There, a mutiny broke out, and a fire swept through the grounds. The Sixth Prince went missing, and Lady Zhaoyang died soon after. Most of the Yang family died in service to the country, with only one brother, Yang Maozhi, surviving—for a time. Eventually, Fu Huang had him executed too.
“…This sounds bad,” Fu Ye muttered.
“Why?” asked Xiao Ai.
“Too many buffs.”
Fu Ye remembered the shouting and kneeling he’d heard before entering the palace.
Born with stunning looks, from a family of loyal martyrs, and carrying a tragic backstory—someone like that by a wise emperor’s side would already be impressive. But with someone like Fu Huang, who already had a questionable reputation, wouldn’t a prince like this only make the emperor look even worse by comparison?
And on top of that, his maternal uncle had been killed by Fu Huang. It didn’t sound like the emperor got along with the sixth prince’s mother’s family at all.
“That’s right,” Xiao Ai said. “So it’s not necessarily just because he was an imposter that the original ended up strung up on the city gate.”
“What?!”
Fu Ye stumbled, clutching the edge of the sedan chair. It turned out one of the eunuchs carrying him had slipped. The eunuchs immediately dropped to their knees.
“Please forgive us, Your Highness!”
Qing Xi didn’t say anything. He merely lifted his hand slightly, and the four eunuchs behind him stepped forward to replace them. The ones who had slipped stayed kneeling on the ground, knocking their heads against the floor.
“Please spare us, Your Highness!”
Fu Ye noticed the black-armored guards nearby starting to move. Only then did he realize what they were about to do. Quickly, he said, “It’s fine. It’s slippery because of the snow. No big deal. Let them off this time.”
Qing Xi looked at him. His pretty eyes held a chill.
Fu Ye met his gaze. “I mean it.”
Qing Xi lowered his hand, and the guards backed off.
The new eunuchs were clearly a lot more careful after that.
“This palace kills people all the time,” Xiao Ai commented.
“…” Fu Ye ignored that and asked, “How long did it take before the original was found out and beheaded?”
“Yep,” Xiao Ai replied. “Not even half a month after the reunion, they found out he was a fake and chopped his head off. Then they hung him on the city gate for three years!”
That city gate thing is nightmare fuel.
“Oh, wait—my bad,” Xiao Ai added. “He was drawn and quartered first, then hung up. I mean, impersonating royalty is one of the worst crimes out there.”
“!!”
Fu Ye gripped the railing tightly. As they passed Xuande Gate, he saw a group of people in the distance.
Right in the middle was someone tall and lean, dressed in black. He looked like a sword, or a spear, or maybe a ghost—definitely not like a normal human being.
That was the emperor. The same one who’d had the fake prince drawn and quartered.
But they were still pretty far away, so Fu Ye decided to pretend he didn’t see him.
“Hurry up. Let’s not keep the Empress Dowager waiting,” he urged.
Since the start of winter, the emperor had canceled morning court entirely.
Instead, every three days, a few senior ministers like Chancellor Xie were summoned to the palace.
Today, the emperor was in a foul mood. He’d had a headache all night and had already called for the royal physician that morning. A dark cloud loomed over his brow—definitely looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. Feeling stuffy indoors, he went out for a walk in just a light robe.
He probably didn’t feel the cold, but the same couldn’t be said for Chancellor Xie and the other old ministers. They were shivering and panting from exhaustion.
But this was not the time to complain. When the emperor was in a mood, even his closest attendant, Chief Eunuch Qin, knew better than to say too much—or anything, really. Definitely not something like “Your Majesty, it’s freezing, why not head inside?” or “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
Don’t give advice. Don’t offer help. Just follow quietly.
By now, not just Eunuch Qin but all the attendants had learned this rule.
Actually—these weren’t even attendants. They were all mutes.
The emperor had a violent temper and liked his silence.
Everyone knew. The ministers knew too.
Chancellor Xie, now over seventy, had served three emperors. Even with the last one—who was already known for his temper—Xie had still dared to speak out when things went too far.
But not now. Not with this one.
Sure, in theory, a loyal minister who died for speaking the truth would be honored in history books. But emperors, for the sake of their legacy, usually wouldn’t go that far.
This emperor, though? He actually killed people.
The first and second waves of deaths didn’t scare people. But by the third? When almost all the mid-ranked officials had been replaced? Yeah, the rest finally got the message.
This emperor understood how to manipulate hearts and minds. Back during the struggle over the crown prince, Chancellor Xie hadn’t even supported him—just that alone gave the emperor leverage.
A seasoned official like Xie knew better than to fight head-on. Different rulers required different approaches. If he couldn’t be a righteous minister, then he’d become a loyal hound with its claws tucked away.
He stood behind Fu Huang and watched the emperor’s gaze land on a cluster of palace servants surrounding Fu Ye on his way to the Ci’en Palace.
Snow covered the earth, pure and white as far as the eye could see. Wrapped in a crimson cloak embroidered with gold and gems, Fu Ye stood out like a flame, swaying gently in his sedan chair, looking every bit like a flower born into wealth.
The Emperor’s face had looked exhausted and irritable the entire time—there was no telling how he felt about the return of the Sixth Prince.
Of course, he wasn’t truly mad. He’d accepted the Sixth Prince back for many reasons—maybe some lingering affection, maybe because his throne was secure and a brother no longer posed a threat. Or maybe… maybe the Emperor just wanted a new piece on the board for whatever political game he was playing behind the scenes.
One thing was certain though: this Sixth Prince was stunningly beautiful.
That kind of allure hadn’t been seen in the palace for years. No man ever rode a sedan chair inside the palace, not even in the dead of winter. Frankly, he didn’t look like a prince—he looked more like the Emperor’s newly favored concubine.
