Qin Duoye also stayed up very late that night. He trimmed the candle wick again and again until the candle burned to the very end, leaving a thick trail of wax dripping down.
A hundred years of history was merely a thin volume in the archives, yet he read it over and over.
Even though this body was exhausted, the soul of the emperor from a century ago remained clear and vigilant. Qin Duoye had often stayed up late reviewing memorials in his past life, and sleeping at 3:00 AM was a common occurrence.
Moreover, he was unwilling to close his eyes, reading the historical text tirelessly, line after line.
Finally, Qin Duoye slumped over his desk, his head resting on his arms atop the history of the Great Wei Dynasty, and fell asleep.
The candlelight flickered around him until, as the long night slowly ebbed away, it gave a soft pfft and extinguished.
The post-autumn breeze always carried a chill at night.
Unsurprisingly, Qin Duoye had successfully managed to make his new body ill.
When he woke up the next morning, he felt a splitting headache, and his throat was so dry it felt as if it were burning.
He tried to call out, but his voice came out hoarse.
Sanjiu hurried into the room. Gou Hongyang, having learned that Qin Duoye was awake, was following closely behind, ready to enter as well.
Seeing Qin Duoye curled up beside the desk, Sanjiu was startled. He rushed over and noticed that Qin Duoye’s face was abnormally flushed. When he touched his hand, it was alarmingly hot.
“Master, you have a fever!”
Behind him, Gou Hongyang retracted the foot he had stepped into the room with and stepped back outside, signaling Chixuan to convey the news of Qin Duoye’s illness back to the palace.
The rest would be left to His Majesty to decide.
Qin Duoye’s hands and feet felt ice-cold, and when he reached up to touch his forehead, it was scorching.
It was highly likely he had caught a chill the previous night. His body was already in poor health, and combined with his lack of sleep, he had suddenly collapsed.
With Sanjiu’s assistance, he slowly moved to the bed and covered himself with thick blankets. Sanjiu moved so quickly he was a blur, running back and forth to fetch a basin of water and towels to wipe Qin Duoye’s face.
“Sanjiu, go summon…” Qin Duoye’s throat was swollen and painful. He struggled to articulate, “…go find a physician.”
He had almost said summon the imperial physician.
However, not long after Sanjiu left, the imperial physician arrived, incredibly fast, having been dragged along by Qingxuan by the collar.
The physician looked quite old, with white hair and a white beard. He was hunched over, and being dragged by a sturdy young man like Qingxuan, he looked like a chick held by a hawk.
Qin Duoye slowly forced his heavy eyelids open.
The physician’s face shifted from green to pale. At his age, being dragged through the air over rooftops was too much for his heart. The moment he was put down, he turned his head and retched uncontrollably.
Qin Duoye said, “Qingxuan, why are you here?” His voice was still raspy. He pointed at the heap on the floor. “Is that a person?”
Qingxuan replied respectfully, “His Majesty heard that Master Wen was unwell and ordered this subordinate to send an imperial physician to treat you.”
The elderly voice groaned, “Ugh.”
Qin Duoye said in his raspy voice, “I think he needs a physician more than I do.”
Although he was sick and his head was dizzy, the emperor’s mind remained sharp. “I’ve only been awake for half an hour, and your Majesty has already sent an imperial physician. What is this, surveillance?”
Qingxuan’s body stiffened, as he had sensed his colleague Chixuan’s hidden presence when he arrived.
Seeing Qingxuan’s reaction, Qin Duoye understood. “It’s a secret guard, or rather, someone from your Xuan-Yi Guard.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Qingxuan lowered his head and remained silent, simply pulling the now-recovered physician to his feet.
Qin Duoye didn’t expect an answer; one look at their expressions and status was enough to understand the sequence of events.
The little emperor had a good head on his shoulders. Sudden anomalies in an official should indeed be monitored.
Not bad, not bad at all. It carries the style of my Qin family.
However, since the imperial physician was here, there was no need for a local doctor. Qin Duoye casually ordered, “Qingxuan, go call Sanjiu back. Tell him there is no need to look for a doctor anymore.”
Qingxuan was bewildered and pointed at himself, “Ah? Me?”
Qin Duoye extended his hand for the physician to check his pulse without looking up, “Yes, go.”
“Yes, sir.” Qingxuan stood at attention by reflex and left to carry out the order.
While walking down the alleyway, Qingxuan felt dazed and confused. Halfway there, it hit him. Wait, who is Sanjiu?
Wait a minute, why did I obey that official’s orders without thinking?
Qin Duoye’s fever was a common cold. Since his body was frail to begin with, the cold had developed into a moderate illness.
The physician prescribed medicine that wouldn’t conflict with his heart medication and gave instructions for bed rest. Then, seizing the moment while Qingxuan hadn’t returned, he grabbed his kit and scurried back to the palace in a panic.
Qin Duoye stared gloomily at the two bowls of jet-black medicinal soup. Resigned, he threw himself onto the bed, closed his eyes, and played dead.
After dying for a while, Qin Duoye suddenly sat up, downed the medicine in one gulp, changed his clothes, and slipped out to have some fun, keeping it hidden from Sanjiu.
How ridiculous. A mere cold and a minor fever.
In his prime, when he was galloping and killing enemies on the northern frontier, he had once been injured in battle; the wound became infected and he ran a high fever. Yet, the next day, he still donned his armor and entered the fray, cutting the enemy commander off his horse with a single swing of his halberd.
Therefore, even with a fever, it wouldn’t stop him from going out to enjoy himself.
Relying on his fragmented memories of the capital’s streets, Qin Duoye stumbled upon a bustling market.
A hundred years had passed, and the capital had changed significantly.
The crowds were bustling. Qin Duoye stood alone among the passing people, gazing at the current Great Wei.
The market was filled with novelties he hadn’t seen in his past life. Over there were new bamboo crafts woven into the shape of honeysuckle flowers, emitting a steady, elegant fragrance. Further in, a sweet soup shop had opened.
Qin Duoye’s eyes lit up, and he darted into the shop.
There were tables and chairs on both sides. Adults were holding their children’s hands, and the tables were adorned with delicate, beautiful iced bowls. Qin Duoye scanned them and saw various preserved fruits, seasonal chrysanthemum sweets, and many other fresh confections he couldn’t identify, things that must have appeared after his death.
With sparkling eyes, Qin Duoye squatted in front of the signboard, reading it line by line.
He ordered a portion of glutinous rice lotus root and buried his head in the table, eating away happily.
Chixuan stopped outside the door, hiding in the shadows of the market, and scribbled rapidly, recording Qin Duoye’s movements.
After finishing his lotus root, Qin Duoye wandered out. He excitedly squatted in front of a cricket-fighting stall, elbow-to-elbow with a group of half-grown children and local hoodlums, watching a rare cricket with a red line on its back mow down all the competition.
Amidst the high-pitched cheers, Qin Duoye pulled himself away and slipped back into the crowd.
Reaching the end of the market, Qin Duoye spotted a tavern. He walked in happily, “Innkeeper, bring me a jar of Immortal’s Lure.”
This was his favorite strong liquor from his past life, sold only in the market stalls.
Imperial wine was known for its perfect color, aroma, and taste, while Immortal’s Lure was murky and unappealing in appearance. Thus, it was never introduced to the palace. Qin Duoye was too lazy to have people fetch it because it was too much trouble and violated court rules, so whenever he missed the taste of Immortal’s Lure, he would sneak out of the palace.
Besides, this kind of liquor, filled with the flavor of the common folk, should be enjoyed in the bustling, smoky atmosphere of the human world, shouldn’t it?
If he were to drink alone in the cold, empty palace, what fun would there be in that?
Only in lively taverns, bustling inns, and the chaotic, vibrant world of mortals could this wine truly be enjoyed.
Immortal’s Lure gave him a chance, a rare opportunity to escape the high, cold place he occupied as emperor, to enter a place full of life, find some amusement, and catch a breath from the high-pressure affairs of state.
And so, Qin Duoye had returned to the tavern that made him feel at ease to buy a jar of human wine.
“Immortal’s Lure?” The tavern owner paused after hearing Qin Duoye’s request. “Respected guest, are you asking for Dream God Brew?”
“Hmm?” Qin Duoye was puzzled inwardly, though he didn’t show it. He walked over to a long table, sat down with a bold, unrestrained air, and said, “Then bring a bowl of Dream God Brew to start.”
After all, a century had passed; some changes were natural.
The owner motioned for the waiter to bring a bowl of Dream God Brew.
Qin Duoye watched the familiar liquid in the bowl, picked it up, and took a sip. The spicy stimulation burned, but after a moment, a sweet aftertaste lingered on his tongue. The rich aroma of the wine filled his mouth. It was the same taste of Immortal’s Lure.
It was the same wine; they had just changed the name.
“Hey, kid, hold on.” Qin Duoye stopped the waiter and asked, “How did this Dream God Brew get its name?”
Before the waiter could answer, a large man at a nearby table, dressed in rough cloth, spoke up in a dialect-heavy accent, looking shocked, “How could you not know the origin of the name Dream God Brew?”
The man’s voice was like a booming bell, and people nearby covered their ears, telling him to shut up.
The man looked like a chick pecked on the head by a mother hen, shrinking his neck. He lowered his voice and leaned toward Qin Duoye, “Brother, this wine was named by the Emperor himself! You don’t even know that?”
Named by the Emperor?
Qin Duoye grew interested. He leaned toward the man and, subconsciously infected by the atmosphere, pushed a small piece of silver toward him and lowered his voice, “Brother, tell me the details.”
“Haha, no need for this!” The man pushed the silver back into Qin Duoye’s hand and put his arm around his shoulder. “Four years ago, when the current Emperor just ascended to the throne, he said he wanted to taste all the fine wines in the world. After drinking this, he was so moved that he dreamed of an immortal!
“The Emperor was overjoyed and personally bestowed the name Dream God Brew! Wait, the Emperor announced this name to the whole world, how could you not know?”
“I was bedridden at the time, delirious.” Qin Duoye spun a tall tale effortlessly.
“Ah, that’s right. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have noticed.” The man finally noticed the sickly aura between Qin Duoye’s brows and his pale complexion. “Though, looking at you now, you don’t look like you’re sick.”
“Recovering from a major illness, just recovering…” Qin Duoye waved his hand, brushing the matter aside, and listened to the man boast about life on the outskirts of the capital.
His thoughts, however, drifted away.
Qin Xuanqi? He liked Immortal’s Lure so much that he actually renamed it Dream God Brew?
It was just wine; was it really necessary to make such a fuss?
This child.
However, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a matter of principle. If the child liked it, he could do as he pleased.
It was just a name change; the Imperial family wasn’t forbidden from doing that.
This kid’s taste in liquor had the spirit of his own.
Qin Duoye’s gaze landed back in the wine bowl. Some of the murkiness had settled to the bottom; the top layer was clear, rippling slightly with the lively noise of the tavern.
Suddenly, a horse neighed outside, accompanied by the screams of pedestrians. Everything turned chaotic.
Qin Duoye looked over and saw a youth in purple sitting on a tall horse. He held a whip folded in his hand, pointing it at an old woman lying on the ground in front of the horse’s hooves.
The old woman wore a headscarf, and her basket had broken, with fruit rolling everywhere.
The purple-clad youth shouted angrily, “I didn’t even touch you! What are you pretending for!”