Crash! A Jade Brush Washer shattered into pieces on the floor before him, sending sharp fragments flying in all directions.
An enraged roar came from above: “So young, yet already drowning in frivolous pursuits! It’s bad enough you can’t measure up to your eldest or third brother—but now you’ve fallen behind even your youngest seventh brother! And lately you’ve been spouting outrageous nonsense. How dare you freely speculate and criticize the fiefs of your eldest and third brothers?! You want a fief? I’ll grant you one. Zhao Fuman, fetch the Imperial Atlas!”
“At once, Your Majesty.”
“…”
Qi Chengming knelt wretchedly on the floor, his mind completely blank. The back of his tightly clenched hands stung sharply, likely cut by the flying shards of the Jade Brush Washer.
What just happened? Where am I?
Just moments ago, he had been reading a classic succession struggle novel, thoroughly enjoying the story of the obscure seventh prince—born to a palace maid—who gradually defeated each of his older brothers and ultimately ascended the throne. The conflict began when the unfortunate second prince, Qi Chengming, was framed by his brothers, reprimanded by the emperor, and exiled to a barren wasteland.
It was called establishing a fiefdom, but in reality, it was banishment.
The second prince was the first casualty in the succession war, utterly insignificant. After the new emperor took the throne, still uneasy, he casually had him eliminated. At the time, Qi Chengming had felt frustrated about this character who shared his name—how could someone who never provoked anyone end up so tragically?
And then the next moment…
He had transmigrated into the book?!
The scene of being reprimanded by the emperor, the familiar accusations his brothers had fabricated, and the chief eunuch Zhao Fuman fetching the Imperial Atlas—it was all terrifyingly familiar. Was sharing a name with a story character really such an easy ticket to transmigration?
—He had become the second prince himself, just about to be exiled to establish his fiefdom.
Qi Chengming was deeply troubled, extremely troubled.
An intense sense of crisis enveloped him. He had to rack his brains to figure out how to save himself. At least, he consoled himself, he would survive until the succession struggle concluded—he just needed to find a way to navigate the final deadly trap. But for now…
Should he stay or leave?
Qi Chengming kept his head bowed, eyes fixed on the luxurious carpet before him. It was camel-colored, embroidered with exquisite patterns, but now stained with a large wet patch from another teacup the Hongren Emperor had thrown earlier. Mixed with the remnants of the Jade Brush Washer, the carpet was clearly beyond salvage.
Its fate was sealed: it would be disposed of.
What would happen to it after being removed—would the gold threads be extracted, the damaged parts cut away to preserve the precious patterns, and repurposed? No one knew, and no one cared. At least, no one in the hall cared at that moment.
The rustling of pages turning echoed from the imperial desk ahead. The vast hall fell into a suffocating silence; no one dared make a sound. The Hongren Emperor was still examining the Imperial Atlas—the moment that would decide a prince’s destiny.
In that split second, as he knelt on the floor, Qi Chengming made a lightning-fast decision: he would do nothing and let events unfold.
—He would choose to leave.
The struggle for the imperial succession raged like a wildfire, devouring countless figures in the capital. Every prince who remained was inevitably caught in this perilous vortex. The Second Prince was merely a background character, seemingly without any influential maternal relatives or factions to support him. Staying in the capital might lead to his demise even earlier than in the original storyline. It would be better to first withdraw from everyone’s sight and develop his strength in secret.
This way, he could also rely on his knowledge of the original plot for guidance. Once he had covertly built up his power in his fief… he would return to the capital one day.
“Liuzhou.”
Sure enough, the Hongren Emperor above uttered this familiar name, completely disregarding the changed expressions of the eunuchs around him. The hall fell into a dead silence. “Zhao Fuman, take note—my second son has reached the age of thirteen. He is hereby enfeoffed as a Jun Wang (Prince of the Commandery), with Liuzhou as his fief. The Court of the Imperial Clan shall handle the remaining arrangements.”
The young eunuchs and imperial guards at the entrance were so terrified they fell silent, exchanging shocked glances in the stillness.
Liuzhou—that was near the exile lands of Lingnan!
Barren and plagued by harsh conditions, to assign a fief there… did the Emperor despise the Second Prince so much?
“This old servant has noted it down.” Zhao Fuman cautiously acknowledged, storing the edict away. An elderly eunuch with a face as pale as a steamed bun hurried past, rushing out to proclaim the decree. Qi Chengming caught only a glimpse of an indigo robe hem, the intricate dark patterns embroidered on the boots even more exquisite and luxurious than the robes he wore himself.
It was hard to tell who was the prince and who was the eunuch.
Qi Chengming sighed inwardly, gaining a deeper understanding of just how insignificant the Second Prince was as a background character.
A faint weariness—or perhaps disgust—crossed the Hongren Emperor’s face as he tapped the table, looking down at his second son. He closed the Imperial Atlas and commanded, “You may leave.”
That was the end of the matter. Not even a chance for the Second Prince to plead his case was granted.
“…Father!!”
Qi Chengming took a deep breath and suddenly broke into a sob. He remained prostrate on the ground, unmoving, as if crushed by the sudden calamity.
He had no memories of his predecessor, but he instinctively knew he had to at least appear frightened or reluctant. Following the plot he knew so well, he needed to firmly defend himself a few times—even if he was being manipulated into leaving, he couldn’t let the mastermind behind it all have everything go exactly as planned. If he accepted the punishment of being sent to the wastelands without a care, even seeming pleased—the Hongren Emperor’s poor impression of him would worsen, and that would be enough to infuriate him even without cause.
As for acting skills…
Qi Chengming was only at an ordinary person’s level. But having suddenly transmigrated from a modern, technologically advanced world of freedom to this godforsaken place, the mere thought of it was enough to bring tears to his eyes. When he lifted his head, his face was already streaked with tears:
“Your son knows he has disappointed you, Father, but I would never dare to speak recklessly about my siblings! Every blade of grass and every tree in this palace has eyes and ears—actions and inactions leave traces. I beg you to investigate thoroughly, Father!”
His grief could not have been more genuine. The young man spoke fervently, his words resolute and impassioned.
Hongren Emperor: “…”
The youth before him was twelve or thirteen, his frame thin and frail, weeping uncontrollably. This was a son he had never paid attention to—even deliberately ignored. But as that familiar face lifted, the pitiful sight of his tears stirred many memories in the Hongren Emperor.
Although this son was utterly useless, making him wish to banish him far away and never see him again, it didn’t mean he should send him to a place of exile to fend for himself… If the current edict stood, the next news he might hear could very well be an obituary. He wasn’t ready to lose a son yet.
Moreover, the Second Prince’s defense… wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Among all the princes, the Second Prince was the least influential and still resided within the palace. These rumors…
The emperor’s paranoia quietly stirred.
But an imperial decree, once issued, could not be retracted.
The Hongren Emperor fell silent for a moment, then averted his gaze, his tone no longer as disappointed or enraged as before. “We grant you a hundred Imperial Guards to accompany you. The Chief Steward Song from the Court of the Imperial Clan will also be assigned to you. Once you reach your Fief, temper your character diligently… Do not remain so wayward.”
“Yes… Your son understands.” Qi Chengming replied with a choked voice, as if realizing the situation was irreversible. He slowly prostrated himself, knowing when to stop pushing his luck.
Huh.
He was inwardly astonished.
—An unexpected gain.
Qi Chengming swore by his experience of watching countless melodramatic TV series with his sister that the emperor and the Second Prince’s… mother? There must have been some unresolved history between them. He was growing increasingly curious about the background of this seemingly insignificant Second Prince.
But now was not the time for gossip.
Benefits unclaimed were benefits wasted. He was about to Establish a Fiefdom in a remote, desolate place—this was his one and only chance to make a fortune!
After slowly retreating from the hall, Qi Chengming wandered aimlessly, not bothering to wipe his tears. With disheveled hair and red, swollen eyes, he pretended to be emotionally shattered as he hurried toward the Court of the Imperial Clan, racing against time. His priority was to secure the hundred Imperial Guards the emperor had promised him.
If he didn’t handpick the personnel now and waited for others to choose for him… Qi Chengming’s mind, steeped in the scheming plots of succession and power struggles from novels, grew conspiratorial. He was certain he’d end up with the old, weak, and disabled—useless fill-ins who’d only be a burden. He’d probably have to cover the expenses for a hundred extra mouths.
Strike first!
Qi Chengming stumbled along like a headless fly. The anxious young eunuch who hurried after him looked as if he’d lost his parents, asking mournfully, “Your Highness, is it true? Have we—have we really been assigned to Liuzhou?”
The eunuch then gritted his teeth and whispered furiously, “They’ve gotten their way after all!”
“This year, both Your Highness and the Third Prince came of age to select Fiefs. Your Highness specifically instructed us to be cautious with our words to avoid trouble. Yet they were the ones spreading talk everywhere about how the Eldest Prince was exceptionally allowed to remain in the capital! The Third Prince might also get to stay… How did rumors suddenly shift, making it seem like we were the ones complaining behind their backs?!”
Xiao Dezi was so furious he could spit blood.
With this blame unfairly pinned on them, once his Second Highness left, the Third Prince would likely succeed in staying in the capital. He was convinced the Third Prince’s faction was behind this! Pitiful his Second Highness, with no one to defend or explain for him, having grown up lonely and wretched—motherless, coldly treated by the emperor, and now forced to Establish a Fiefdom in such an exile-like place, thousands of miles away…
Qi Chengming glanced at him, observing the young eunuch’s intimate, resentful demeanor as he seethed on his behalf, and surmised this must be his personal attendant.
“Speak less. Go back and quickly pack your things, then report the situation to me… Our departure time likely isn’t far off.” Qi Chengming seized the opportunity to issue instructions while mentally calculating how to learn the young eunuch’s name and the Second Prince’s basic circumstances.
Establishing a Fiefdom served as a good pretext – the original character’s background information appearing in the text was far too sparse.
“Yes!” Seeing his Highness hadn’t been crushed by such devastating news, the young eunuch regained some spirit and acknowledged the order.
The palace corridor stretched long and narrow.
As Qi Chengming walked, his pace suddenly faltered.
“Your Highness, what’s wrong?”
Qi Chengming said nothing, resuming his unaffected stride forward.
Just moments earlier, a translucent cyan frame far exceeding this world’s technological level had silently materialized in his vision, displaying:
“Congratulations Player on obtaining your first Fief! Unlocked Feudal Lord identity. Infrastructure System now online!”
Continuing to walk, Qi Chengming’s gaze remained fixed on that line of complex characters for a long time, gradually brightening.
…Infrastructure System?
Author’s Note:
The story begins! Crouching cautiously in the shadows observing the situation…
This will be my final attempt at writing. If future performance metrics remain poor, I’ll completely write for passion alone, giving up full-time writing on Jinjiang qwq and relying on day jobs for income.
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[I’m fully aware of both the advantages and disadvantages of having all ministers reborn, so please read with confidence – there won’t be any unpleasant surprises.]