After the Corrupt Official Was Coveted by the New Emperor - Chapter 1

During the summer nights of the early Zhaohe era, the moon hung in the mid-sky while palace lanterns burned steadily. Silver moonlight and dim candlelight illuminated the open-air courtyard. The crackle of firewood filled the air as wisps of cooking smoke rose slowly, carrying a rich aroma throughout the space.

A chicken was suspended directly over the fire. An imperial chef, forced to crouch beside it, brushed on seasonings at strict intervals. Nearby, Li Youde diligently waved a fan, sending a breeze over ice basins to disperse the heat of the flames. The firelight cast a soft glow on Ji Rong’s cheeks, gilding his features. His hair spilled over his shoulders, occasionally dancing in the wind.

“What exactly does your master mean by this?” Ji Rong suddenly looked directly at Li Youde, asking the question he had repeated countless times during this period.

The summer night was already sweltering, and with a bonfire burning nearby, sweat beaded on Li Youde’s forehead. He wiped the perspiration away, offering a smile that was both flattering and guilty. “This servant does not dare to speculate on the Emperor’s mind.”

Ji Rong let out a cold snort. As the fire continued to burn, a flock of birds was suddenly startled, fluttering their wings as they fled the tree branches.

“My Lord,” Li Youde spoke cautiously after a long silence, “I have something to say.”

“If you aren’t answering my previous question, then shut your mouth.”

Li Youde swallowed his words, feeling a bitter misery in his heart. Being caught in the middle of the Emperor and this gentleman was exhausting. How could a mere servant know what the Emperor was thinking?

The roast chicken was flipped, its amber fat seeping out and causing the firewood to hiss with blue smoke. The scent of meat, mingled with the sweet fragrance of honey, saturated the small courtyard. Ji Rong suddenly lifted his eyelids, his ears twitching alertly. He heard footsteps.

A long corridor led from the Palace of Heavenly Purity to the courtyard. Pale moonlight filtered through the branches as a silhouette flickered and moved toward them. Ji Rong turned his head instinctively.

The man wore a black brocade robe that perfectly outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist. With a high bridge to his nose and thin lips pressed into a straight line, he looked utterly cold and detached. His eyes were like freezing pools, a bottomless ink devoid of warmth, yet the moment they met Ji Rong’s, a ripple surfaced within them.

Ji Rong narrowed his eyes. Finally, the man had appeared. This was the new Emperor of the Yu Dynasty, the one who had inexplicably confined him to the Palace of Heavenly Purity: Qi Zhaoxuan.

The servants in the courtyard also heard the commotion and knelt to offer their respects, but Qi Zhaoxuan dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He seemed to loathe the smell lingering in the air, tilting his head slightly and fanning the air with his palm.

Ji Rong saw this and smirked. With a vein throbbing at his temple, Qi Zhaoxuan endured the odor and asked, “Li Youde said you wanted to see me?”

“Why play dumb?” Ji Rong shifted his gaze back to the roast chicken, ignoring the Emperor.

Qi Zhaoxuan did not take offense. He simply said, “We shall speak inside the hall.” He then turned and left quickly, seemingly unable to stand the smell of the roasting meat a moment longer.

Ji Rong laughed again. Li Youde, who had been keeping his head low, finally dared to look up. Having served the new Emperor for years, he knew exactly what kind of person lurked behind that gentle exterior, but the person in front of him was not exactly known for a good temper either. For the sake of palace peace, Li Youde was about to advise Ji Rong not to provoke the Emperor further, only to hear him say something that made his heart skip a beat.

“Take the chicken down. I am bringing it into the hall.”

Li Youde’s vision went dark. It was no secret that the Emperor loathed strong smells; Ji Rong was clearly hell-bent on a confrontation. Before Li Youde could find his breath to protest, Ji Rong had already disappeared behind the doors with the roast chicken.

Inside the hall, the scent of roast chicken immediately overwhelmed the original incense. Ji Rong watched with satisfaction as Qi Zhaoxuan’s brow furrowed tightly. He sat in a chair and gestured to the servant holding the chicken. The servant, trembling, began to carve the meat.

“I want to leave the palace,” Ji Rong stated.

Qi Zhaoxuan remained silent, which was an obvious refusal.

“What is the point of locking me in the Palace of Heavenly Purity? Are you just looking for ways to suffer?” Ji Rong studied him, genuinely puzzled.

Ever since he was deposed, he had been confined here. Guards stood at every door, yet Qi Zhaoxuan, the one who gave the order, had been nowhere to be found. Ji Rong could have escaped, but it would have cost many lives and success was not guaranteed, so he stayed. Instead, he spent his time wreaking havoc: ordering servants to bring mud into the hall to build clay figures, spending days fishing and then roasting the catch until the entire hall smelled of charred fish, and preparing today’s roast chicken. Every action was a calculated strike against Qi Zhaoxuan’s sensibilities.

Qi Zhaoxuan looked at him calmly. “You hold no official position now and have many enemies. Letting you leave the palace would only invite trouble.”

Ji Rong laughed. “The fact that I hold no office is entirely your doing, is it not?”

Qi Zhaoxuan fell silent again. Talking to a mute was exhausting. Ji Rong looked at the plate where the chicken had been carved. Before the servants could react, a silver knife suddenly appeared in Ji Rong’s hand. He stabbed a piece of meat and held it out toward the Emperor.

“Do you want some, Your Majesty?” Ji Rong’s smile did not reach his eyes.

A drop of grease fell from the succulent meat, silently hitting the floor. Behind them, the servants dropped to their knees in terror.

“You truly want to leave?” Surprisingly, Qi Zhaoxuan did not sound angry.

Ji Rong tossed the soiled knife aside. “Yes.”

After staring at Ji Rong for a long moment, Qi Zhaoxuan finally spoke. “You may leave the palace.”

Ji Rong arched an eyebrow. Since when was this man so agreeable? But the second half of the sentence followed leisurely. “However, you must return.”

Ji Rong paused. He realized that once he was outside, he could contact his own people and find a way to escape for good. “Fine.”

As Ji Rong agreed, a faint, fleeting smile touched Qi Zhaoxuan’s eyes. “Then let us try on the clothes you will wear tomorrow.”

As if on cue, servants filed in carrying various garments. Li Youde seized the chance to whisk the roast chicken out of the room. When Ji Rong saw the fresh, light colors of the clothes, a sense of unease rose in his chest. His smile faded. He looked at Qi Zhaoxuan, who was casually tapping his fingers on the table. “Why is it women’s clothing?”

Qi Zhaoxuan looked up blankly. “What else? To the outside world, you are a dead man. I cannot have you strolling out in broad daylight. If a dead man comes back to life, it would scare those old ministers to death.”

“How am I a dead man?” Ji Rong snapped. They were so close he could smell the Emperor’s cold, woody scent.

“How should I know?” Qi Zhaoxuan pulled away.

Ji Rong sneered internally. He was certain the Emperor was the one who started the rumor. Under the pressure, Ji Rong conceded. He grabbed a light green dress and retreated behind a screen. His frustration peaked when he realized one crucial thing: he had no idea how to put it on. He closed his eyes in despair. “Someone, come here!”

He was still struggling with the messy layers of fabric when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him from behind. A familiar scent of incense followed. A hand gripped his chin, preventing him from turning. The calloused fingers rubbed against his skin until it turned red.

“Imperial Father,” Qi Zhaoxuan whispered against his ear, his voice deep. “I have come to help you undress.”

Ji Rong’s body went rigid at the title. In his peripheral vision, he saw the left side of the Emperor’s face. It was pale, almost sickly, from a lack of sunlight. He thought back to the young Qi Zhaoxuan: the same pale face and dark, hollow eyes that would stare at him in silence. He knew this man was anything but peaceful or kind.

The hand on his chin moved away, but the arm around his waist tightened. Sensing Ji Rong’s struggle, Qi Zhaoxuan leaned in and caught Ji Rong’s earlobe between his teeth. “Imperial Father, why are you in such a hurry?”

“Qi Zhaoxuan!”

“Do not be angry. I said I would help you personally.”

With practiced movements, Qi Zhaoxuan’s fingers wove through the fabric, perfectly arranging the dress. He stepped back to admire his artwork. The light green gown made Ji Rong look elegant, his fair skin contrasting with the silk and his dark hair pinned simply with a white jade hairclip. A smile appeared on the Emperor’s pale face. “Imperial Father is truly beautiful.”

“Do not call me that,” Ji Rong said coldly.

“One thing is missing,” Qi Zhaoxuan said to himself. He picked up a veiled hat and placed it on Ji Rong’s head. The thin white silk partially obscured Ji Rong’s features, leaving only the graceful line of his neck visible.

Qi Zhaoxuan licked his lips. “Since you are this beautiful, I must keep you well-hidden tomorrow.”

Ji Rong frowned. “You are coming with me?”

Qi Zhaoxuan smiled, a flash of obsession in his eyes. “So many people adore you, Imperial Father. Naturally, I must stay close.”