Drip. Drip. A subtle sound of dripping water scraped against the stone slabs and walls. It wound its way along a path, gathered at a protrusion on the ceiling, and condensed into a small droplet that fell suddenly. Drip. The droplet landed on Qin Duoye’s forehead, then flowed down his cheek, from his jaw to his neck, soaking into his collar. Qin Duoye blinked, shaking the small droplet from his eyelashes. His feet could just barely touch the ground. His hands were locked in heavy shackles and suspended high on either side. The posture was uncomfortable, and the skin on his wrists had already been rubbed raw and red. Qin Duoye recognized this as a special water cell. Although it was not filled with water, the dark, damp prison, the humid air, and the puddles gathering in patches, combined with the constant dripping from the ceiling onto his forehead, were a form of extreme psychological torture. For a prisoner, it was more exhausting than a cell simply filled with water. Drip. In such an environment, if an interrogation were delayed, it would be very easy for a prisoner to experience a psychological breakdown. Qin Duoye yawned, his expression relaxed. He was not worried about Qin Xuanqiao not coming. The art of kingship relies on a subtle psychological offensive. In his past life, he had emerged from the tangled web of inner palace politics and the dictatorship of eunuchs, broken the shackles of a puppet emperor, and turned the tide when all seemed lost. He was well-versed in these courtly machinations. From the moment he opened his eyes, even before he had fully opened them, he had been absorbing information. Qin Duoye heard the old officials crying out outside the hall. While they were crying, they were also using coercive tactics, the implication being that if the Emperor did not concede to their requests, they would commit suicide to prove their point. This was a power struggle between the courtiers and the Emperor. It seemed that this child of the Qin family did not sit particularly securely on the throne. He wondered which officials, or groups of officials, were dissatisfied with the Emperor. A cold glint flashed in Qin Duoye’s eyes. He naturally stood on the side of his junior. In his previous life, Qin Duoye was also known for being protective. He could not imagine how tired his child must be, acting as Emperor, reviewing memorials, and worrying about the livelihood of the world. Yet, there were still officials bullying the young Emperor, acting on their seniority and playing the fool. Qin Duoye could accept proper remonstrance and well-reasoned rebuttals, but he could not accept such unruly, reckless behavior, wailing and howling at the hall doors. However, in that situation, he could not let Qin Xuanqiao actually kill them. That would escalate the conflict and further erode the Emperor’s authority. Qin Duoye sighed softly. He had not expected his child to be bullied to such an extent. Fortunately, he had arrived. Because of the friction, he had spoken those seemingly nonsensical words to Qingxuan. He knew that Qingxuan would certainly relay every word he said to Qin Xuanqiao. The young Emperor had not killed him even when he was so presumptuous, but instead had sent him to the Punishment Bureau in a fit of rage, the Emperor would surely come to see him. Therefore, Qin Duoye remained unhurried and yawned again. He was sleepy. Why is this body so lacking in energy? In the past, I could review memorials for twelve consecutive hours without changing my expression. When he was killing enemies at the Northern Borders in his previous life, he had to sleep whenever he could to restore his energy. No matter how harsh the environment, he could fall asleep the moment he closed his eyes, and he could be jolted awake by the slightest disturbance. Now, merely standing and getting a little wet was a trivial matter. Ah. Qin Duoye yawned again, a few physiological tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. He shook his head, flung the wet hair from his forehead, closed his eyes, and prepared to sleep. Qin Duoye felt as though he were sinking into the sea, yet also floating upward. Everything around him was pitch black. Suddenly, the light broke. He opened his eyes and saw overlapping palace walls. The distant east glowed with the white of dawn, stretching out wisps of rosy clouds. He was standing next to several carriages. People were bustling about, all wearing court attire. Occasionally, a noble head would poke out of a carriage to greet others. Qin Duoye was stunned. Where had he been taken to now? Had his soul possessed someone else? Suddenly, he felt his back being lightly bumped. An official holding a tablet walked past him, whispering in a voice only the two of them could hear, Wen Qinghe, don’t forget your task for the morning audience today. A question mark appeared over Qin Duoye’s head. Was he still in that minor official’s body? But what was happening now? Qin Duoye clearly had not spoken, yet he heard himself say in a voice as soft as a mosquito, I, I know… The taste in his mouth was incredibly bitter. Was this a memory belonging to Wen Qinghe? Qin Duoye understood. Within the memory, he could not actively control the actions or speech of the body, nor could he sense the thoughts of the true Wen Qinghe. He could only see what he saw and hear what he heard, even his vision moved only in tandem with the original Wen Qinghe. Qin Duoye felt Wen Qinghe lower his head, and then he saw a pair of constantly trembling hands. The hands were pale and clammy, clutching a bamboo tablet with a death grip. Dang! The bell for the fifth watch rang throughout the palace, distant and heavy. The officials lined up outside the palace gates began to move toward the dismounting monument. Some got out of their carriages, while one or two continued forward. Qin Duoye only had time for a hurried glance because, aside from looking up in anxiety and unease, Wen Qinghe kept his head low, staring silently at the tips of his shoes. Consequently, Qin Duoye spent the journey looking at the palace floor tiles. However, the rules of the morning audience were not much different from his own time. Civil and military officials passed through the Two-Yi Gate from both sides, walked into the Wuji Hall according to their ranks, and stood in formation. Based on the standing position, Qin Duoye analyzed that Wen Qinghe likely held a fifth or sixth-rank official post. As soon as he stepped into the hall, Qin Duoye felt Wen Qinghe’s legs trembling even more violently. He was puzzled. It was just a morning audience; was it necessary to be this afraid? Was it because of the task the person had mentioned? Qin Duoye decided not to overthink it and simply waited to witness the cause and effect of this memory fragment. Today’s Grand Audience did not seem to require anything special; they simply processed reports from the counties and assigned several inspecting censors to patrol. But as the session progressed, Wen Qinghe became increasingly nervous, trembling like a sieve, breathing rapidly with an almost imperceptible sob. Qin Duoye sensed something unusual. Finally, just as the eunuch announced that there was no further business and the session was ending, the person next to him coughed heavily with a suggestive tone. Wen Qinghe’s body shuddered. He stepped out of formation, standing in the empty center of the Great Hall. A chilly wind swept in from outside, curling up his sleeves and chilling him to the bone. Qin Duoye watched as Wen Qinghe kept his head bowed low, raising his tablet high, and heard him say, May, may I inform Your Majesty… National etiquette states… His speech was stumbling, his lips quivering, he almost bit his tongue. National etiquette states that after ascending the throne, the Emperor must immediately appoint an Empress. Your Majesty’s accession coincided with the passing of the late Emperor, requiring three years of mourning; now, four years have passed, and Your Majesty’s inner palace remains unattended. An heir is vital to the country and the people, so I hope Your Majesty will place the appointment on the agenda. Qin Duoye felt as if Wen Qinghe had used every ounce of his strength to speak these words. He held the bamboo tablet high above his head and bowed deeply, not daring to lift his head even to glance at the Emperor, his eyes fixed on his shoes from beginning to end. The courtiers were silent for a moment, and then a chattering discussion broke out in the ranks. Occasionally, a few louder voices of agreement drifted in, followed by the names of several candidate women. But no official dared to stand out and offer public support. The Emperor had not yet spoken; they were sharp, waiting to see the Emperor’s attitude toward Wen Qinghe. Oh? In the Wuji Hall, Qin Xuanqiao sat on the dragon throne, asking with interest, Very well, what is your name? Your humble official, Censor of the Censorate, Wen Qinghe. Qin Xuanqiao suddenly sneered, Gentlemen, I recall that someone raised the issue of appointing an Empress a year ago, did they not? How did I reply at that time? The discussion in the ranks instantly fell silent. Wen Qinghe’s knees went weak, and he nearly collapsed. Does no one remember? Qin Xuanqiao’s voice dropped another degree, Regarding the Wen family, Wen Xiang, you answer. Since Wen Qinghe kept his head low, Qin Duoye could not see the formation of the courtiers. He only heard a few footsteps, and then a rather aged voice replied, Your Majesty, this old official is of advanced age, and my memory is not what it used to be. One year ago? I truly cannot remember. Qin Duoye chuckled inwardly. He wondered if the ancestors of the Wen family and this Wen Xiang were the same as the Minister of Revenue from his past life; their act of playing dumb was identical to that old fox. If your mind is failing, you should have retired early. If you don’t remember, I certainly do. Qin Xuanqiao seemed to show Wen Xiang no respect, his voice tinged with faint anger, I said back then, whoever is blind enough to mention it again, I will send them to their grave. Qin Duoye:
Chapter 5 - The Child is Rather Cruel
A Century After My Demise, I Became The Tyrant’s White Moonlight