The Young Marquis is Ruining the Court! - Chapter 23

The sounds near his ear were cold and damp, much chillier than the morning breeze, pressing against his side and seeping into his very bones.

That same sensation he had experienced on the Xuanxing River Bridge struck again. Chi Zhou felt as if he were trapped in a pit of vipers, surrounded by venomous snakes repeatedly hissing threats into his ear.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them, they were filled with a shallow smile.

“Your Highness, we are in the Palace.”

His voice was clear and cool, a deflective remark that left everyone guessing his true meaning.

Was he saying that although he disliked the Palace, as a subject, he couldn’t speak his mind? Or was he suggesting that even as the Crown Prince of Great Jin, Xie Mingjiang shouldn’t be calling the Sixth Prince a mongrel?

Xie Mingjiang’s eyes were dark as he stared fixedly at Chi Zhou. The young man’s smile didn’t fade as he said warmly, “Your Highness is occupied with a thousand matters of state. I wouldn’t dare trouble you with my trivial personal affairs. It would be a shame to delay your official duties.”

After a moment of silence, Xie Mingjiang asked, “What official duties?”

Chi Zhou replied, “I heard recently that a shipment of fine salt from the South flooded the market. The Emperor was furious, and the local government saw over a hundred officials dismissed?”

The surroundings grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The small patch of ground where they stood seemed to turn into a vacuum. The advisors behind Xie Mingjiang all looked shocked, staring at Chi Zhou in disbelief.

Chi Zhou scanned the crowd, laughing softly despite the immense pressure. His tone was part-soothing, part-warning. “It’s best if Your Highness keeps your mind on official business. I am well aware of my own lack of restraint and my messy personal life. Truly, I haven’t the face to trouble Your Highness with it.”

Chi Zhou found it hard to explain why he was saying these things. He knew exactly what Xie Mingjiang wanted to hear when he used that slur, yet he instinctively refused to give him the satisfaction.

Having transmigrated into the original body, he did feel a bone-deep dread regarding Xie Mingjing’s existence and the potential torture he might suffer later. But that didn’t mean he could calmly listen to Xie Mingjiang belittling the protagonist.

After all, he had followed the original web novel’s serialization and witnessed the protagonist’s life through the text. He had seen every joy, sorrow, hardship, and trial Xie Mingjing endured. Stripping away the “protagonist aura,” it was undeniable that Chi Zhou genuinely liked this resilient, brave youth.

He looked forward to Xie Mingjing’s success even more than the boy did himself.

So, despite the threat Xie Mingjiang posed, Chi Zhou spoke up. He had the “God’s Eye” perspective, and it would be a waste not to use it. He used a “minor matter” that might seem trivial to Xie Mingjiang to signal to the Crown Prince that his actions weren’t as seamless as he thought.

The only reason he hadn’t been caught yet was that the Emperor was protecting him, so the court officials hadn’t filed formal complaints. But “Chi Zhou” was a notorious, reckless little tyrant, and Emperor Chengping’s favoritism toward him was world-famous. If he truly went all out and denounced Xie Mingjiang in the grand hall, the Crown Prince would lose a layer of skin even if he didn’t die.

As for himself? With the Chi family’s past glory and the Emperor’s personal promises, he likely wouldn’t suffer much harm.

Chi Zhou’s eyes curved slightly. Facing Xie Mingjiang’s murderous, gloomy gaze, he chuckled softly and said, “Upon reflection, court discussions are ill-suited for an unlearned person like me. I shall head off first to pay my respects to His Majesty. Please do not take offense, Your Highness.”

He bowed, turned, and left. Finding a nearby young eunuch, he stated his purpose and was led deeper into the Palace.

Only after his silhouette disappeared from the plaza did the advisors behind Xie Mingjiang seem to snap back to their senses. “Your Highness, this Young Marquis Chi…”

He was nothing like the rumors.

Xie Mingjiang stared at the direction Chi Zhou had gone for a long time before speaking in a frigid voice, “Hasn’t he always been like this?”

When he was in a good mood, he followed people around, obedient and sweet, agreeing to anything with a cynical, world-weary air. But when he was in a foul mood, his words were laced with thorns, full of hidden meanings, and he could insult you without a script. He would toss out his trump cards carelessly, mentioning secrets of the Eastern Palace as if discussing the weather, just so Xie Mingjiang would stop annoying him.

“A madman,” Xie Mingjiang rasped with malice. “He’s a perfect match for that mongrel.”

The Crown Prince’s sharp critique of the Sixth Prince and the Marquis of Ningping made those around him go silent. They were afraid of being overheard by someone who might use their words against them.

Xie Mingjiang stood there, his chest heaving. He took two deep breaths, feeling as though it had been a long time since anyone had blocked him so effectively. He closed his eyes and opened them again, finally looking away from the corner where Chi Zhou had vanished. The people behind him breathed a sigh of relief and quickly brought up other matters to distract him.

**

On the other side, as soon as Chi Zhou turned the corner of a palace wall and the predatory gaze vanished, his body went limp. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

The leading eunuch was startled, his face turning pale. “Marquis! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chi Zhou said weakly, pausing for a moment. “I caught a cold a few days ago and haven’t fully recovered. Standing in the wind just now made me feel a bit unwell.”

The eunuch’s face turned even whiter. “I’ll go find a physician for the Marquis immediately!”

Everyone in the Palace knew that this Young Marquis of the Ningping household was the apple of the Empress Dowager’s and the Emperor’s eye.

Once, when Chi Zhou was a child, before he was a Marquis or even the Heir—the old Marquis and the young General were away at war, and the Empress Dowager had brought him to the Palace to stay. It was winter, and for some reason, the young master wouldn’t stay in his hall. He insisted on going out to play in the snow and pick plum blossoms. In the middle of the night, he accidentally fell into the lake and became gravely ill.

The Emperor was furious and had all the servants responsible for him executed on the spot. By the time Chi Zhou narrowly escaped death, there wasn’t a single familiar face left around him. Since then, whenever he entered the Palace, the servants were on high alert, fearing for their lives if they served him poorly.

The eunuch’s reaction was so panicked it was as if he were facing a great enemy. Chi Zhou was puzzled and sighed inwardly. Once his racing heart calmed, he stood up straight and gave the boy a gentle smile. “I’m fine now. Why are you so scared?”

The eunuch thought, How could I not be? If you collapse here, I might not see tomorrow’s sun. But he remained tense. “Are you really okay? Should we find a hall to rest in first while I call the physician?”

Chi Zhou didn’t want to bother anyone, but seeing the boy’s frantic expression, and remembering that Emperor Chengping was likely at the morning court session anyway, he realized he wouldn’t see the Emperor yet. After a moment’s thought, he agreed.

They were in the outer perimeter of the Palace. The walls were high, but buildings were sparse, mostly used for meetings or ceremonies. Although the eunuch said they would find a place nearby, they walked for fifteen minutes without seeing a spot to stop.

Seeing the eunuch sweating through his clothes and constantly looking back, Chi Zhou sighed and pointed to a palace. “Is this for concubines or princes? Can I rest here?”

He had pointed at random, but when he looked closer, he saw lush green leaves peeking over the walls. The foliage was vibrant and full of life, reflecting the morning sun as it swayed in the breeze.

The eunuch froze. He looked up at the name on the gate, his expression momentarily stunned, then looked back at Chi Zhou. Seeing no change in Chi Zhou’s expression, he hesitated for two seconds before stepping forward to push the door open. “It’s not a concubine’s residence. Please rest here for a moment, Marquis.”

Chi Zhou was surprised the door wasn’t locked. He assumed it was an empty, uninhabited hall that had been neglected.

The eunuch wanted to lead him inside to rest, but Chi Zhou stood in the courtyard, struck by the sight of fruit trees. He immediately refused. “No need. It’s stuffy inside. I’ll stay out here for a bit.”

The eunuch thought it over and quickly agreed. “Then please wait here, Marquis. I shall fetch the physician.”

Chi Zhou reached out, wanting to tell him he was truly fine, but the eunuch ran off so fast he couldn’t stop him. Chi Zhou raised an eyebrow, feeling helpless. He wondered just what kind of monster the original host was in these people’s eyes.

However, once the crowd was gone, Chi Zhou finally let out the breath he had been holding since entering the Palace. He didn’t like this place. The moment he passed through the Meridian Gate, the sky above the square palace walls felt gloomy. Even with the bright sun, it felt suffocating. Everywhere he looked, red walls and yellow tiles weighed heavily on him.

Only this hall felt somewhat comfortable.

Chi Zhou scanned the courtyard and was disappointed to see that while there were many fruit trees, it wasn’t harvest season yet. The largest pears were only the size of half a fist. He swallowed, feeling a bit regretful.

He walked further in and saw stone tables and chairs. They weren’t covered in leaves and dust as he expected, though a few green leaves had fallen. Like the rest of the hall, it was clean despite being empty. He wondered which diligent eunuchs or maids looked after it.

The wind rustled the leaves, replacing the sounds of fake pleasantries and terrified flattery. Standing under the tree in the lazy morning light, Chi Zhou felt a wave of drowsiness.

His sleep had been poor lately. Though he rarely had that nightmare about the dark prison anymore, he still couldn’t sleep soundly. He often woke in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Unable to find the source of his nightmares, Chi Zhou began to miss having Xie Jiu by his side. At least during those days in Jifu Alley when he was setting up furniture for “Xie the Cat,” he had slept perfectly every night.

Chi Zhou sighed, wondering when Xie Jiu would return to the capital so he could apologize. Would he be forgiven? He also thought of Lu Zhongyuan’s cold look on the palace road, and his heart felt heavy with conflicting emotions.

The eunuch didn’t return immediately. Chi Zhou wandered the yard a few times. Instead of sitting on a chair, he did what he had done when he first arrived in this world at the Marquis’s estate, he leaned against a sturdy peach tree and sat down.

Faint light danced on his eyelids. He only intended to close his eyes and rest, but he unexpectedly drifted off to sleep.

In a half-dreaming state, the light before him dimmed significantly. He opened his eyes dizzily and saw a figure crouching beside him amidst the greenery. The young man had sharp, elegant features like a finely carved blade. He maintained that stubborn, crouching posture, holding a hand over Chi Zhou’s head to block the stray sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Chi Zhou relaxed instantly. He knew this was a dream, but even seeing Xie Jiu in a dream made him feel a surge of joy.

Chi Zhou leaned back, adopting a posture of total relaxation and dependence, nearly leaning into Xie Jiu’s embrace before closing his eyes again.

“I’m done for, Jojo, why are you even in my dreams?”

In the warmth of the spring morning, the young man mumbled incoherently. His voice scattered in the wind, blowing through the green leaves and urging the young fruit to ripen quickly into something sweet.

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