After the Corrupt Official Was Coveted by the New Emperor - Chapter 8

After being warned by the Emperor’s head eunuch, Li Youde, Fan Qing did not actually leave. Instead, he hid further away to keep watch.

He felt fortunate that he had not left; otherwise, he would have missed that fleeting moment when the wind caught the veil.

It looked too much like him.

He walked into a tavern like a man who had lost his soul, drinking continuously until nightfall.

“Young Marquis, it is the hour of Hai. We really must go,” A-Cai pleaded tearfully into Fan Qing’s ear, which was redolent with the smell of alcohol. “What will we do if the Marquis catches you?”

Fan Qing let the words go in one ear and out the other. Normally, he might fear the wrath of the Marquis of Ning’an, but today he was truly distracted. His mind was filled entirely with that glimpse from earlier in the day.

The veiled hat had not blown open very far, only revealing a small portion of the Imperial Concubine’s face.

But, however bizarre it might seem, the resemblance was uncanny.

He had known Ji Rong for over a decade; he would not mistake him.

Yet, he was also afraid. What if it was not him? What if, after all this anticipation, he discovered it was not the same person? What if Ji Rong really was dead?

Restless and uneasy, Fan Qing was pulled into the carriage by A-Cai. Throughout the journey back, his mind replayed that single glimpse, constantly searching for similarities and differences.

He tried to convince himself that the Imperial Concubine and Ji Rong were the same person, yet he could not stop preparing for the worst.

Fan Qing walked into the courtyard in a daze. In the dim light, a silhouette loomed.

His father was sitting in the courtyard like a vengeful spirit, giving him a massive fright.

“What kind of nonsense have you been up to now?”

The Marquis of Ning’an spotted him, strode over quickly, and gave Fan Qing a sharp smack on the head.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“Are you truly unafraid of death, or has your brain been kicked by a donkey?”

Fan Qing clutched his head in confusion. He had no idea what was going on, only to be met with a barrage of scolding the moment he returned.

But his mind was occupied by more important matters, and fueled by alcohol, he ignored his father’s fury and spoke plainly. “Dad, let me tell you, Ji Rong really is not dead. Ah! Dad, why did you hit me again?”

The Marquis of Ning’an’s face turned ashen. “How did I father such a blockhead?” he said, exasperated.

“Ji Rong is dead. Even if he were not, it is not your business. You told me you came to Jiangnan to learn things. I actually thought you had changed your ways. And the result? Fan Qing, tell me honestly, why are you fixated on that Imperial Concubine every single day?”

“You even followed the Emperor and the Concubine on their outing. You really are,” the Marquis pointed at him for a long time, at a loss for words.

“Do you want people to say you have rebellious intentions?”

Fan Qing tried to defend himself. “No, Dad, I am serious. Let me tell you.”

He wanted to say that the Concubine by the Emperor’s side looked exactly like Ji Rong, but the words died on his lips.

It sounded like a fantasy. He had mentioned it once before only to be met with his father’s cold mockery. He had no physical evidence; no one would believe him.

“Enough,” the Marquis of Ning’an whispered, losing patience. “I know you were close to him and it is normal to struggle with the news of his death. But he committed many evils while he was alive, and the New Emperor deposed him as soon as he ascended. So stop shouting things related to him in public. Do you understand?”

“But Dad, you clearly know those things were not Ji Rong.”

“That is enough,” the Marquis cut him off. “This matter ends here.”

“Where did you go fooling around? You reek of alcohol,” the Marquis fanned the air in disgust. “A-Cai, take him to bathe. He smells like a corpse of booze.”

Fan Qing opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He stood rooted to the spot, watching the Marquis of Ning’an leave the courtyard.

No one believes me, Fan Qing thought defiantly.

The Imperial Concubine’s origins were unknown; they had appeared by the Emperor’s side overnight. No one knew their background or their face, and they wore that veiled hat religiously every time they went out. There had to be something wrong.

People could call him a fool or a blockhead all they wanted, but he simply did not believe Ji Rong was dead. Those rumors had appeared out of nowhere and everyone believed them now, but in reality, the trail of Ji Rong’s whereabouts ended at his deposition as Chancellor. Everything after that was groundless hearsay. How could he believe it?

Ji Rong had few hobbies; his only real interest was popular fiction.

When he served as the Chancellor, it was not convenient for him to visit bookshops personally to pick out the latest stories. Now, while he was nominally Qi Zhaoxuan’s Imperial Concubine, no one knew his true identity. He no longer had to worry about his reputation, which allowed him to do things he could not do before.

For example, he could pick out books himself.

He had read almost everything in the capital. Jiangnan was far from the capital, so there might be new stories here that had not spread there yet. This was a perfect chance for him to critique some new work.

Qi Zhaoxuan had not come to Jiangnan solely for a summer retreat. Toppling Prince Duan would not be easy, and there were many matters that required the Emperor’s personal attention.

After being locked up by Qi Zhaoxuan for a night, the Emperor suddenly became busy, granting Ji Rong a relatively large amount of free time to himself.

He did not have to face the intermittently maddening Qi Zhaoxuan, nor did he have the countless administrative tasks that used to keep him occupied.

Qi Zhaoxuan had not restricted his movements either. As long as he took guards with him and returned to the temporary palace every day, he was free to enjoy himself wherever he pleased.

This was a blessing in disguise.

And so, today, Ji Rong leisurely arrived at a famous bookshop in Jiangnan.

Stacks of stories were piled on racks outside the shop. People flowed in and out of the establishment constantly.

He had come to the right place.

As soon as Ji Rong approached a bookshelf, a clerk came over to greet him. “Customer, what kind of stories are you interested in? Our shop has everything from ancient times to the present! From tales of life and death and strange occurrences, to the secret romances between scholars and fox demons. To call us the largest and most complete bookshop in Jiangnan is no exaggeration!”

“Lately, ahem,” Ji Rong cleared his throat, shifting into a gentle female voice before continuing, “I wonder what the popular titles are lately?”

It was a close call.

He had almost forgotten he was wearing a traditional dress. He nearly outed himself as a pervert in women’s clothing.

The clerk was full of enthusiasm. “Take a look at this one: a poignant tale of a wealthy lady and a destitute scholar. Their path is rocky and unblessed. Will they spend their lives together? Or this one: a ridiculous three-lifetime romance between a thousand-year-old fox immortal and a scholar. It is sickeningly sweet yet heartbreaking. Even the divide between life and death cannot stop their epic love.”

Caught up in the emotion, the clerk sighed. “Oh, what is love that it should bind us so!”

Stories are always just picking from the same three characters: the lady, the scholar, and the fox, Ji Rong thought.

Perhaps seeing that Ji Rong was not particularly interested in these, the clerk looked around, then mysteriously pulled out a plain black book with no title. He whispered, “This one. I guarantee you will be satisfied.”

Seeing the unidentifiable smile on the clerk’s face, a strong sense of unease suddenly welled up in Ji Rong’s heart.

“The Unspeakable Anecdotes of the Treacherous Official and the New Emperor.”

Ji Rong: “?”

Apologies for his guilty conscience leading the way, but this title?

The clerk continued, “This story is about a New Emperor who kept a secret crush on a Treacherous Official in his heart. After the official was deposed, his body was cruelly tossed into a mass grave. Unwilling to move on, his soul took human form and encountered the Emperor. But the Emperor is brave and divine; he saw through the disguise early on! He intended to play along to see the official’s ultimate goal, but who would have thought!”

The clerk’s voice suddenly rose in pitch. “Who would have thought that love knows not where it starts, nor where it ends. In the course of their daily interactions, the Emperor actually developed secret feelings! Just then, the Treacherous Official unexpectedly learned his identity was exposed. He wanted to express his feelings but felt the urge to retreat. How will this situation be resolved?”

He was so high-spirited that all he lacked was a storyteller’s gavel to start a professional narration in a teahouse.

Wait. No. That is not right.

Ji Rong: “Is this not a bit too fabricated?”

“On the contrary!” the clerk said with conviction. “It is because it is impossible that it is exotic, and because it is impossible, it attracts people!”

“Traditional stories cannot stir up a trend anymore. The rarer and more novel it is, the more of a market there is. What the common people love to see is good art!”

“Besides, it is just a work of fiction. Do not take it seriously,” the clerk waved his hand. “If you do not want it, Miss, this book is very popular. Plenty of people want to read it.”

“?”

Ji Rong could not understand. “How is it popular?”

The clerk pointed to the side.

At a nearby private school, it seemed classes had just ended. A large group of scholars suddenly poured out, heading toward the bookshop in groups. Holding their money, they noisily asked, “Are there any copies of the eighth printing of the plain black book left?”

So it really is called the plain black book.

Ji Rong: “Eighth printing?”

The clerk said, “I told you it was popular!”

Ji Rong was speechless with wonder.

“Do you want it or not, Miss? This is the last printing for a while. The Emperor has come to Jiangnan for the summer, and we small businesses have to avoid suspicion. If you miss this, who knows how long it will be before it is reprinted!”

“Was it not a work of fiction?” Ji Rong asked, blinking.

The clerk gave a laugh. “Art comes from life, after all. To save our skins, we still have to be careful!”

Ji Rong let out a dry laugh and decisively picked up the story of the three-lifetime struggle between the scholar and the fox demon that the clerk first introduced. “How much? I will take this one.”

The clerk looked a bit disappointed and tried one last time. “Are you sure you do not want the plain black book, Miss?”

“I! DO! NOT!”

“Fine, if you do not want it, you do not want it. Why be so fierce? You look so soft and weak, but your voice is quite loud,” the clerk muttered as he watched Ji Rong walk away. “Wasting such a good book on someone who does not know how to appreciate it. No taste.”

Just as the clerk was about to put the black book back on the shelf, a sneaky figure suddenly popped up from the side, grabbed his hand, and asked, “What story is this?”

The clerk was startled, but since another person who did not know the plot of the black book had appeared, he immediately regained his energy and repeated the same introduction from before.

“The Unspeakable Anecdotes of the Treacherous Official and the New Emperor!”

“A secret crush on the Treacherous Official who was tossed into a mass grave, soul took human form and encountered the New Emperor.”

“The Emperor actually developed secret feelings, the Official unexpectedly learned his identity was exposed. How will this be resolved?”

The clerk spoke with great passion, looking expectantly at the newcomer. He had spoken so well that the man seemed stunned.

Fan Qing was in a daze, the phrases “love knows not where it starts,” “nor where it ends,” and “secret feelings” swirling in his mind.

He had followed the Imperial Concubine out again today, only to see her head straight for the bookshop. Thinking of how his best friend loved reading stories and often used Fan Qing’s name to buy them in the capital, ruining his reputation, Fan Qing’s suspicions had soared. He came to the shop after the Concubine left, but before he could prepare himself, he heard the clerk’s enthusiastic introduction.

His head was spinning; his worldview had suffered a violent impact.

The clerk struck while the iron was hot. “Customer, would you like a copy?”

Fan Qing was barely conscious. “Huh? Oh, okay.”

“Excellent!” the clerk shouted. “One plain black book for this gentleman. Checkout!”