Taking Advantage of Loopholes
When Zhuo Fan woke up, the storm had passed.
He opened his eyes, still groggy, and saw a man sitting by his bedside, quietly reading a book. Upon hearing movement, the man glanced over and smiled calmly, “You’re awake?”
“…Prince of Wen?” Zhuo Fan recognized him and, startled, tried to get up and pay his respects, but the man gently pushed him back down.
“You’re still unwell, no need for formalities.” Wen Muyan’s warm palm rested on his forehead for a moment. “I had the imperial physician check on you. You’ve caught a cold, but fortunately, the fever has subsided. Drink your medicine later and get some more rest.”
Zhuo Fan stared at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded, and managed to mumble a thank you.
He knew of this Prince of Wen. Around the time he began to fall out of favor, Wen Muyan, still the Eldest Prince then, had come to the capital to meet the emperor. The emperor had conferred the title of Prince of Wen upon him and invited him to stay at the palace for a while. They had met several times at court, and for some reason, Wen Muyan seemed to have taken a liking to him.
Back then, Zhuo Fan had been wholly devoted to the emperor, ignoring the advances of both his classmate Shao Ze and the Prince of Wen. Now, having seen the emperor’s coldness clearly, he found this timely help in a snowstorm all the more precious.
“Just now, Xian Fu came to see you.” Wen Muyan returned to his chair, picked up his book again, and mentioned this casually.
Zhuo Fan smiled bitterly, “I didn’t expect to trouble Xian Fu…”
Wen Muyan’s gaze remained on the book, though his thoughts seemed elsewhere. After a long pause, he added, “It was His Majesty who specifically sent him to check on you.”
Upon hearing this, Zhuo Fan froze, sitting on the bed with his head lowered, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “His Majesty, amidst his affection for his new favorite, still remembers my life and death. Should I be grateful for such imperial grace?”
The Prince of Wen set his book down and shook his head gently, “If such words were to spread and reach the ears of those with ill intentions, it could cause trouble.”
Zhuo Fan curled up, hugging his knees stubbornly, “Let them hear, let them mock me! I’m a fool anyway!”
He buried his head in his arms, not noticing the Prince of Wen’s expression. After a while, a warm hand gently patted his back, and a soothing voice came from above, “Lift your head. You’ll find there are others in the world worth your love.”
The words were spoken slowly, as if the Prince of Wen had mustered great courage to say them. Zhuo Fan looked up at his handsome face, suddenly at a loss, “Prince… I…”
“No need to say more.” Wen Muyan quickly withdrew his hand, “If you ever encounter difficulties, feel free to come to me.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness! I must take my leave!” Zhuo Fan breathed a sigh of relief, and despite his weakened state from the fever, he bolted for the door as if escaping.
For some reason, the places where the Prince of Wen had touched felt like they were on fire, and his heart pounded wildly.
Back at Zhuo Manor, Zhuo Fan was still in a daze and nearly collided with his longtime friend Shao Ze, who had been waiting for him.
Shao Ze was an ordinary-looking man, slightly plump and not very tall, at most robust. His square face was usually stern, but he had always been sincere and kind to Zhuo Fan.
“What happened yesterday? I heard you stayed at the Prince of Wen’s place overnight?” Shao Ze grabbed Zhuo Fan’s arm, looking displeased.
Though his tone was harsh, Zhuo Fan could sense the concern beneath it. He nodded with a wry smile, “I got caught in the rain and snow last night, caught a cold, and fainted. The Prince of Wen happened to pass by and saved me. When I woke up today, I was at his place.”
“What? Are you still feeling unwell?”
Shao Ze reached out to check his forehead, but Zhuo Fan quickly dodged, “I’m much better now. A few days of rest, and I’ll be fine.”
Shao Ze withdrew his hand without showing any annoyance, reverting to his usual lecturing demeanor. After a moment of thought, he said, “During the morning court session today, the Prince of Wen asked for leave on your behalf. His Majesty’s reaction was quite subtle. It’s said that after the session, he sent Xian Fu to the Prince of Wen’s place to check on you. But the fact that you stayed overnight at the Prince of Wen’s residence… isn’t being spoken of kindly in the palace. If you hear anything, don’t take it to heart. You know Her Majesty the Empress has always seen you as a thorn in her side. The rumors in the harem might be stirred by someone trying to cause you trouble.”
Seeing no reaction from Zhuo Fan, Shao Ze pressed on, “The emperor is always surrounded by beauties, as you’ve seen. I’ve always told you not to get entangled with that person in the palace. You’re a Top Imperial Graduate, why demean yourself like someone from the harem—”
He abruptly stopped, but Zhuo Fan laughed bitterly, a smile more pained than tears, “You’re right. I’m a Top Imperial Graduate, and I have my pride! Why should I let him trample on me? I gave him my heart, and he didn’t even see it. I won’t, I can’t, be heartbroken over someone so cold and unfeeling ever again!”
“Exactly! You’ve finally come to your senses. It was worth being the bad guy!” Shao Ze, excited, grabbed Zhuo Fan’s hand. Seeing Zhuo Fan only blushing and not pulling away as he used to, he was even happier, lowering his voice in excitement, “Zhuo Fan, we’ve been classmates for years. You should know my feelings for you are no less than anyone else’s. I—”
Seeing Shao Ze’s usually stern face light up with rare excitement, Zhuo Fan was startled. For some reason, the image of the graceful Prince of Wen flashed in his mind. He quickly withdrew his hand, apologetic and flustered, “Shao Ze, I know you’re very good to me, and I’m grateful, but I’ve always seen you as a close friend, nothing more, and it won’t change in the future!”
Shao Ze was taken aback, his expression briefly awkward before he forced a smile, pretending not to care as he lowered his hand, “I was just speaking offhandedly, no other meaning. Don’t mind it, forget it.”
Zhuo Fan sighed in relief, tentatively asking, “So we’re still friends, like before, right?”
Though deeply pained by the rejection, Shao Ze nodded earnestly, “Of course.”
Thinking of how they had grown up together, and how he had secretly loved Zhuo Fan for nearly a decade, it was a shame Zhuo Fan never reciprocated his feelings. But it wasn’t Zhuo Fan’s fault. No matter how much he loved him, he couldn’t force Zhuo Fan to respond. As long as he could watch Zhuo Fan live happily, that was enough.
Yet fate was cruel. Zhuo Fan had fallen for the emperor at first sight, that heartless ruler! And worse, the emperor had ignored Zhuo Fan’s sincere feelings, playing with his heart and then casting him aside!
Zhuo Fan was someone he cherished dearly!
To give his heart and soul to such a heartless man and be treated so cruelly?! The emperor was nothing but a scoundrel!
His Zhuo Fan should have been a noble, untouchable flower, so kind, so passionate, so wonderful. To be loved by someone like him was a blessing! The emperor was truly ungrateful, but now that Zhuo Fan had given up on him, the emperor should realize what he lost and regret it for a lifetime!
Shao Ze hid his infatuation deep within, watching Zhuo Fan’s figure disappear through the door before turning to leave.
Zhuo Fan hadn’t expected a single night of fever to turn into such a drama. Images of the emperor and the Prince of Wen flashed through his mind, leaving him pale and shaking his head. He hadn’t noticed Shao Ze’s feelings at all. Once back in his room, he collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep sleep.
In a half-dreaming state, he found himself in a white room, facing a white bed. On the bed lay a cold man with a face identical to the emperor’s.
This was a dead man.
Zhuo Fan seemed to hear himself shouting at the corpse, “What about ‘when my heart turns to ashes, you’ll chase after me’? What about ‘kneeling, crying, taking a bullet for me’? What about ‘possessive, forced love’?!
Wake up! Even if I don’t love you anymore, you can’t stop loving me! Even if I kick you away, you should immediately regret it and keep me in your heart at all times!
Even if you’re a scoundrel, I’d still reluctantly forgive you after some push and pull, not because you’re a devoted, rich, handsome man!
But how could you die?! Who will fight with the substitutes for my attention and make me secretly happy?
The script isn’t supposed to be like this!
He felt furious, so furious that he died from anger.
The dream was vivid, but when Zhuo Fan woke up, he couldn’t remember any of it, only feeling a splitting headache and a throbbing temple.
A servant waiting outside rushed in, bowing and scraping, “Master, you’re awake! Someone from the palace has come to summon you!”
“…Someone from the palace?” Zhuo Fan repeated, his face ashen, then sneered, “Could it be His Majesty who sent them?”
The servant nodded quickly, “Yes, yes, and it’s Xian Fu himself! This is a great honor—”
“I’m not going!” Zhuo Fan flopped back onto the bed, turning his back to the servant, his tone firm, “I’m not his dog to come and go at his beck and call. Go tell Xian Fu I’m too ill to get out of bed and ask him to apologize to His Majesty on my behalf.”
“Ah? Master, please reconsider! What if His Majesty gets angry?” The servant was in a panic, kneeling and kowtowing, hoping the minister would change his mind.
But the man on the bed remained silent, seemingly determined to be stubborn.
Just as the servant was at a loss, a commotion erupted in the courtyard. He hurried to the door, and what he saw shocked him: “Long live His Majesty! Long live the Prince of Wen!”
At the main entrance, flanked by several agile guards, two men approached, one leading and one following. They were none other than the emperor and the Prince of Wen.
The servant had never been so close to the emperor in his life, nearly wetting himself in fear, his words stumbling.
Xiao Han held his hand at his waist, the long yellow sleeves of his robe trailing as he walked with indifference, not looking aside. He stopped at the bedroom door and slowly asked, “I heard Minister Zhuo is so ill he can’t even come to the palace when summoned. I thought it must be serious, so I came to see him myself. Why is the door closed?”
The servant knelt, staring blankly at him until the Prince of Wen gestured for him to rise. Only then did he realize the question was directed at him, and he hurriedly explained, “Your Majesty, my master is delirious from illness, which is why he couldn’t come. It’s not that he’s being willful or disrespectful!”
Are you a fan of your master’s or a professional critic?
Xiao Han was speechless for a moment, lazily pointing at the door, “Take it down.”
“Uh—huh?”
Before the servants at the minister’s residence could react, the emperor’s guards had already started dismantling the door with swift efficiency.
Not just the dumbfounded servant, even the Prince of Wen looked a bit awkward, but wisely refrained from opposing the emperor’s whims.
Though the script suggested the emperor should be left outside to reflect on his mistakes, it didn’t specify how long. So Xiao Han decided one second was enough. Whether he felt guilty or was thinking about having chicken wings for dinner, who cared? The script could bite him if it wanted!
After playing the scoundrel role for a while, Xiao Han had learned a bit about the script’s quirks. As long as it wasn’t something the script explicitly required him to say or do, he could do as he pleased. The script wouldn’t bother him, except for his thoughts, which it couldn’t control.
In other words, if the script told him to stand, he couldn’t sit, but it didn’t say he had to stand for an hour, so he could stand for just a second.
Also, after the last painful lesson, he knew that not doing what the script demanded would lead to a bad end and another reincarnation. However, things not mentioned in the script, like which beauty’s card to flip at night or sneaking a chicken leg from the imperial kitchen, were no problem at all.
During his time as emperor, Xiao Han had gradually mastered the art of exploiting loopholes in the script. Apart from occasionally having to see the annoyingly persistent Zhuo Fan, life was quite comfortable.
Unfortunately, it couldn’t last forever, as the much-anticipated “heartfelt repentance and devotion” scene had arrived.
What? You ask what “heartfelt repentance and devotion” is? It’s when a heart turns to ashes, then suddenly repents, and the loyal dog grovels!
Though Xiao Han now had some means to resist the script, he valued his life. If he died again, who knew where the script would send him next, to repeat the same scenarios?
Besides, getting hit by a car was painful, and Xiao Han feared pain. He just wanted to live peacefully. Dying once was too overwhelming; he couldn’t handle it.
With these chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind, the door was already down in the blink of an eye. With such a commotion, Zhuo Fan couldn’t continue pretending to be dead. The room was wide open, and he sat up from the bed, his clothes thin, his face pale, his expression weary, his eyes both vacant and world-weary. If Shao Ze were here, he’d surely cry out in his heart, “Ah, my pitifully charming idol!”
But it wasn’t Shao Ze present; it was Xiao Han and Wen Muyan.
Meeting Zhuo Fan’s sorrowful, empty gaze, Xiao Han slowly walked into the room, glancing at Xian Fu, who was standing respectfully nearby. The latter quickly brought over a chair for the emperor to sit.
“I didn’t know Your Majesty was visiting. I’m ill and couldn’t greet you from afar. I hope Your Majesty will forgive me.” Zhuo Fan struggled to get up, turning to get out of bed to pay his respects.
“Since you’re unwell, there’s no need for formalities.” Xiao Han was grateful the script didn’t require him to help Zhuo Fan up. The ever-resourceful Xian Fu somehow produced tea and snacks, presenting them to him. Xiao Han silently gave Xian Fu a thumbs-up in his heart. This was true devotion! It was a shame he was a eunuch.
“Forgive my rudeness, but colds are contagious, and the air here is stale. For the sake of Your Majesty’s health, please return to the palace soon.” Zhuo Fan stubbornly refused to sit, kneeling with a distant gaze fixed on the floor, his tone flat and cold, as if he wouldn’t rise unless the emperor left.
The emperor sipped tea and ate a pastry.
Zhuo Fan’s knees began to ache.
The emperor sipped more tea and ate another pastry.
Zhuo Fan started to regret not just sitting back on the bed.
The emperor—why was he still drinking tea?!
After what seemed like an eternity, as if he had been parched in a desert for three days and nights, Xiao Han finally remembered his lines. Chewing on the requisite palace drama snack, osmanthus cake, he mumbled, “I heard you fell ill picking plum branches for me, and I’m very…” The emperor seemed to choke on his food, swallowing before adding the last word, “moved.”
Zhuo Fan: “…”
“Ahem.” The Prince of Wen, who had been quietly standing by, suddenly cleared his throat. The emperor raised an eyebrow at him, noticing Wen Muyan’s face seemed a bit strained.
Xiao Han stroked his chin. Was he provoking the eternal backup, the devoted, tragic suitor to defend his blue friend? Surely, he should have some reaction?
Would he, like in the past, angrily scold him, or perhaps disdainfully mock him, or even rush up to punch him?
The script didn’t say, which was frustrating.
But Xiao Han didn’t have to wait long. The Prince of Wen finally spoke his first line of the day, but it wasn’t directed at him with cold words, nor was it tenderly directed at the pitiful Zhuo Fan.
He spoke to Xian Fu.
“Xian Fu, bring me a chair,” Wen Muyan said.