After Pretending to be an Idiot, I Was Targeted by the Cold-Blooded Zhangyin - Chapter 13

A spectacle involving Gu Feiyi?

Xie Changsheng could more or less guess what kind of “spectacle” it would be.

The all-powerful Palm Print Eunuch, Gu Feiyi, was a man who corrupted the court, executed loyal officials, and rooted out opposing factions. He extorted heavy taxes and incited social conflict. His reputation as a state-ruining demon was so widespread that the commoners and officials alike loathed, feared, and dreaded him.

Paradoxically, this made him a mythic figure. Sometimes, even things Gu Feiyi hadn’t done were pinned on him. Heavy rains in the south? Oh, Gu Feiyi’s doing. Plague in the north? Oh, Gu Feiyi’s doing. Military defeats in the northwest or northeast? Must be Gu Feiyi again.

The rumors grew increasingly absurd; some even claimed Gu Feiyi was a lich. As the people’s hatred deepened, it became a common sight for citizens or officials to spit in the direction of his palanquin whenever he left the palace on business.

As for Gu Feiyi himself, he was used to it. Whether it was slander or rage, he accepted it all. When he was in a good mood, he didn’t pay it much mind; when he was in a bad mood, he threw people into prison or had Feng Wang cut off a few of their fingers.

The “show” Xie Hemiao spoke of referred to the drama of Gu Feiyi’s carriage being intercepted.

Xie Changsheng racked his brain, trying to remember where this fit in the original plot. After thinking for ages, he slapped his own forehead in frustration.

My brain is usually so good at remembering useless crap! He knew exactly how many monkeys were in the Beijing Zoo; he knew every distant relative of his dorm supervisor’s son-in-law; he even remembered the exact sensation of accidentally sucking ink into his mouth on his first day of primary school. Yet, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where this specific plot point led!

Was this in the original novel? Was it a major turning point? Had the original character gone? If he went, would it make Gu Feiyi hate him even more?

Before he could think further, Xie Hemiao grabbed his arm and dragged him out the door. After two failed attempts to struggle free, Xie Changsheng indignantly hopped onto Xie Hemiao’s back. “Giddy-up! Yah! Yah!”

Xie Hemiao stumbled. His attendants immediately rushed forward in a panic to support him, but he waved them off. He turned his head, leaving Xie Changsheng with only a blurred profile.

Xie Changsheng heard Xie Hemiao ask, “Little fool, Second Brother’s legs aren’t steady. Do you find it too bumpy?”

Xie Changsheng looked at the sky for a moment, then gave a bright, cheerful, and stupid grin. “I do!” He leaned into Xie Hemiao’s ear and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Second Brother, I’ll tell you a secret.”

“…What secret?”

Xie Changsheng said, “Second Brother, you walk like a butterfly flying—sometimes high, sometimes low. It’s fun! That’s why I like letting you carry me.”

Xie Hemiao’s footsteps faltered for a heartbeat. But it was only a heartbeat; he immediately returned to normal. He let out a dry chuckle and said, “Next time Second Brother is free, I’ll play ‘pretend to be a mushroom’ with you again, you little fool.”

They traveled by carriage until they reached a certain street. The long thoroughfare was straight and wide, yet it was currently packed so tight that not a drop of water could leak through. At the very center sat a plain, unassuming horse carriage. Attendants with bared blades kept the nearby commoners at a distance.

Heart-wrenching curses echoed from near the carriage.

“You rootless, half-man, half-woman dog eunuch!” “You black-hearted thing with no descendants!” “Release my Master!”

Xie Hemiao lifted the curtain, watching the rowdy crowd with great interest. When he saw a particularly exciting moment, he couldn’t help but clap and cheer. When he heard the man shout, “Your whole family of eunuchs is rootless,” Xie Hemiao burst out laughing. He reached out to grab a long tobacco pipe and began puffing away, exhaling clouds of smoke.

Xie Changsheng looked at him with disdain.

If this guy were in a modern movie theater, he’d be the most obnoxious type of audience member. Besides, the cursing wasn’t even that creative. On a modern social media platform, replying with just three periods to a trending topic could easily net you over 99 creative variations of hate comments.

Sigh. I really don’t want to talk to people who have never been on the internet.

Xie Changsheng spent a melancholy moment dwelling on his modern “inheritance”:

A novel account with several hundred Jinjiang coins left.

A game account at max level with dozens of days left on a monthly pass.

A campus meal card he had just topped up with 200 yuan.

A finger poked his face.

“Little fool,” Xie Hemiao looked at him gloomily. “Such a good show, and you’re spacing out? What are you thinking about?”

Xie Changsheng was sad; Xie Changsheng didn’t want to talk. But Xie Hemiao wouldn’t stop prying, insisting on peering into Xie Changsheng’s mental world.

Xie Changsheng used his “nonsense literature” skills to answer him weakly: “I am thinking about the thing I am thinking about right now. As for what kind of thing this thing is, it is actually just this thing. This thing is not a big thing, and because it is not a big thing, it is a small thing. But to put it plainly, it is just the thing I am thinking about.”

Xie Hemiao: “…”

Fine. The little fool was quite Zen. He held the pipe to Xie Changsheng’s mouth. “Want a puff?”

What a bad guy. Not only was he making someone breathe secondhand smoke, but he was also teaching them to smoke.

Xie Changsheng shook his head. Though he had a face that looked like he “played hard,” he was actually a straight-A student. Gambling, drugs, tobacco, and alcohol—he didn’t touch a single one.

Xie Hemiao shrugged and slumped back.

Up ahead, the shouting match continued. The man had cursed every generation of Gu Feiyi’s ancestors.

Feng Wang leaned close to the carriage window and asked cautiously, “Master, what should we do? Shall we kill him?”

Inside, Gu Feiyi was leaning casually against a soft cushion, holding a scroll in his hand. Despite the chaos outside, he merely kept his eyes on his book. Hearing Feng Wang’s question, Gu Feiyi finally looked up.

“Whose man is he?” he asked.

“Zhou Cai’s.”

The image of a middle-aged man with a goatee surfaced in Gu Feiyi’s mind. Ah, right. About ten days ago, he had thrown Zhou Cai into prison because Zhou had embezzled disaster relief grain last year. When they went to arrest him, Zhou Cai had been in the middle of trying to force himself on a ten-year-old male servant.

It was a rare instance of Gu Feiyi doing something good, yet he was still being cursed in the street for it. The commoners didn’t know the truth; they simply assumed it was his fault and followed along for the spectacle.

Gu Feiyi curled his lips into a mocking smile. “I’ve been listening for quite a while, and he hasn’t said anything original.”

“Calling me a ‘eunuch’ over and over… he must be envious.” He looked at Feng Wang and smiled faintly. “No need to kill him. Just cut off his ‘root’ as well and give it back to him.”

Feng Wang acknowledged the order and turned to walk away, his hand already on his short blade. But Gu Feiyi called him back: “Wait.”

“Master?”

Rarely, Gu Feiyi changed his mind. “Forget it. Don’t use blades; it’ll scare people. Just run him over.” He added, “Go send some tea and pastries to the Second Prince and the Little Highness. Ask them if they’ve seen enough of this play.”

Feng Wang nodded. He gave instructions to the driver, took a food box, and walked toward the flashy gold carriage parked at the street entrance.

Inside the carriage, Xie Hemiao was wondering aloud, “Why has Gu Feiyi suddenly become so gentle and kind?”

Xie Changsheng: “…”

The carriage is literally crushing someone. Even from this far away, the screams are piercing my eardrums. Where exactly do you see ‘gentle and kind,’ Second Brother?

As the old saying goes: Being blind is good. Everything is a blind spot.

This was the first time Xie Changsheng had seen such a scene. Recalling Gu Feiyi’s immortal-like face, he felt a chill run through his whole body. He vowed to himself that he would play this “fool” role to the bitter end.

Suppressing his trembling hands, Xie Changsheng clapped and laughed foolishly. “Hahaha, it sounds so good! Just like singing… Who is that singing, warming the loneliness…”

No Chinese person can speak the second half of that sentence in a normal tone. At least, Xie Changsheng couldn’t; he naturally broke into song as he spoke. Curiously, once the lyrics left his mouth, the fear in his heart lessened slightly.

Thank you, Phoenix Legend.

While Xie Changsheng’s mind was a mess of wild thoughts, someone called out from outside the window: “Second Lord, the Palm Print has sent pastries to help you and the Little Highness settle your nerves.”

Xie Hemiao scoffed and reached out. “Give them to me.”

An exquisite food box was placed in his hand. When he opened it, Xie Changsheng saw the contents.

There are many ways to praise food. To a poor student like Xie Changsheng, the ultimate praise was “Not too sweet, and a big portion.” The ultimate insult was “Is this meant for the gaps between my teeth?”

The pastries Gu Feiyi sent were the latter. Two beautiful, tiny pastries—the kind you couldn’t even see without a magnifying glass—were plated in a way that screamed: If you make less than 7,000 a month, you aren’t worthy of appreciating this. From every angle, they spelled out the word “EXPENSIVE.”

Xie Hemiao took one look and pushed them toward Xie Changsheng. “You eat them, little fool.”

Xie Changsheng picked one up and ate it. Then he picked up the second and ate it. He smacked his lips but couldn’t really taste anything.

Xie Hemiao watched him finish the pastries at lightning speed. Suddenly, he took a drag of his pipe and mischievously blew a cloud of smoke right into Xie Changsheng’s face.

Xie Changsheng scowled at him.

“This little fool has quite a temper,” Xie Hemiao asked. “Are they good?”

“Mm, so-so.”

Xie Hemiao’s eyes curved. “So-so? Then why did you eat them with such gusto?”

Xie Changsheng glanced at him. “You don’t understand. This is called the ‘Clean Plate Campaign’.”

Xie Hemiao tapped the top of Xie Changsheng’s head with his pipe. “…There you go again, saying crazy things no one understands.”

Having finished watching the spectacle, Xie Changsheng spent the entire ride back leaning against the window. Ancient streets, ancient customs, ancient people. Everything was a novelty. He begged Xie Hemiao to let him down to walk around, but he was rejected ruthlessly.

“No. Bringing you out of the palace is already a risk. If something happens to you, I can’t answer to Imperial Father.”

Xie Changsheng had no choice but to give up. However, an opportunity to leave the palace arrived the very next day—the Crown Prince, Xie Chengjing, had fallen ill. It was a sudden, violent illness that left him bedridden.

When the Crown Prince falls ill, it is no small matter. Countless officials, wealthy landowners, and merchants went to pay their respects. Xie Changsheng insisted on going as well.

Yang Luo refused at first. But the moment she said no, Xie Changsheng began crawling around the floor with his hair disheveled. He crawled forward, backward, left, and right. He looked like a vengeful spirit—10% “vengeful,” 90% “spirit.” It was honestly quite terrifying. It also gave people an overwhelming urge to smack him.

Left with no choice, Yang Luo prepared a carriage. She stayed by his side the whole way, carefully “packaging” Xie Changsheng and delivering him to the Crown Prince’s estate.