“Mmm…”
Si Huayao slowly regained consciousness, immediately sensing something unusual. The sensation was deeply familiar to him, and a single thought flashed through his mind: Could it be that I brought someone home last night?
After seeing his girlfriend of three years fooling around with someone else in a car the day before, he had gone to a bar in a fit of anger. He only remembered drinking a great deal of alcohol, followed by a sexy beauty coming over to chat him up, and then his memory went completely blank.
Reaching out, Si Huayao massaged his throbbing brow and opened his eyes. Long strands of hair spread across the pillow filled his vision. He carefully inched backward, widening the distance between them in an attempt to alleviate a bit of his lingering guilt.
“Mmm…”
His movement startled the person beside him, drawing an unconscious murmur.
It was a man’s voice. Si Huayao froze for a moment, then propped himself up to look. An unfamiliar, handsome face came into view strong, chiseled features with a prominent Adam’s apple. This was undeniably a long-haired man. No, judging by his appearance, he was only seventeen or eighteen; it was hard to say whether he was even of legal age yet.
“This…”
Si Huayao was utterly dumbfounded, standing frozen in place for a long time without collecting his thoughts. How could it be a man? Exactly how much alcohol did I drink last night to become so muddled I couldn’t even tell men and women apart? Or did someone slip me a drug by accident?
He beat his breast over why he had gone drinking last night. Originally, he was the one in the right, but now it had turned into mutual infidelity and the other party was an authentic, flesh-and-blood man. Now he had no way to clear his name. Moreover, if the other person happened to be a minor, making a fuss out of this might land him in prison. Looking at it now, ten to one he had been plotted against by someone.
Soon enough, Si Huayao noticed that something was terribly amiss. Whether it was the dragon-embroidered bed curtains overhead, the silk cotton quilt draped over his body, or the bolster pillow on the bed, all of it told him that this place was not.
He flipped open the bed curtains and looked outside. A pile of discarded clothing lay scattered in front of the bed; the style resembled the Han-style clothing that had become quite popular in recent years. Looking further at the room’s layout and furnishings, the antique interior design exuded elegance and refinement everywhere, and the bedroom alone easily spanned over a hundred square meters.
Si Huayao forced himself to calm down and carefully analyze his current situation. First, he ruled out the possibility of a prank. Putting everything else aside, no actor could fake a stage to this degree. Could I have been picked up as a drunk corpse by some rich second-generation heir?
If he had been set up, the place he should have appeared in was a hotel, but this clearly wasn’t one.
“Your Highness, the hour is late. You should rise.”
The voice from outside interrupted Si Huayao’s train of thought. “Your Highness, what kind of nonsense is that?”
A massive influx of information suddenly surged into his mind, causing him to let out a sharp “Ouch!” and instinctively close his eyes.
Hearing the commotion from inside, the person outside hastily asked, “Your Highness, what is wrong?”
Enduring the agonizing pain, Si Huayao rasped, “Nothing, do not come in!”
“Yes, Your Highness. This servant obeys.”
With his back turned to Si Huayao, Zhao Hanqing opened his eyes. A flash of cold light crossed his gaze, yet he remained motionless, lying on his side. Hearing movement behind him, he promptly closed his eyes once more.
Keenly detecting the malice radiating from the person beside him, Si Huayao painfully turned his head to look. Then, scrambling out of bed, he casually snatched a piece of clothing to cover his vital parts and flopped down onto a chair. Supporting his head, he sorted through the abruptly acquired memories, only to discover that he had inexplicably transmigrated into a book.
The novel was titled; The Legend of the Azure Emperor, a pure, grand-scale shonen progression story. It detailed how the male protagonist suffered bullying, built his forces to defeat the villains, and eventually conquered the world surrounded by beauties.
The protagonist was Zhao Hanqing none other than the person lying on the bed. He possessed the tragic background customary in novels: clearly an emperor, he was kept as a male favorite and raised in captivity by the villain within the imperial palace, forced to submit beneath the villain day after day, yielding to his every whim.
As for the major villain of this book, he also happened to be named Si Huayao, sharing the exact same name as him. He was the owner of the very body he was currently inhabiting. The novel described Si Huayao as follows: “This person is beautiful, striking enough to infuriate both gods and men; anyone who has laid eyes upon him, regardless of gender, is driven utterly mad by him. This person is ruthless, with hands soaked in blood, showing mercy to not even himself. The entire nation fears and dreads him.”
Naturally, no matter how formidable a villain was, the consequence of opposing the protagonist was an absolute dead end the only variable being how miserably one died. The original owner’s fate served as definitive proof of this. His forces were gradually eradicated one by one until the protagonist finally captured him, subjected him to every conceivable instrument of torture over the span of forty-long days, and ultimately sliced him to death in a slow, thousand-cut execution. After his death, the protagonist even tossed his flesh and bones into the beast enclosure he had built with his own hands to feed the tigers, leopards, and wolves demonstrating just how deeply the protagonist despised him.
At this thought, Si Huayao couldn’t help shivering, casting a furtive glance back toward the bed. The young emperor Zhao Hanqing was lying right over there; the hostility he had sensed earlier was probably him plotting how to murder him.
A bitter chuckle welled up in Si Huayao’s chest. He had merely gone out for a depressing drink at a bar, so why did he wake up not only sleeping with a man, but also landing in this place? If he committed suicide right now, could he return to his original world? Returning would obviously be best, but what if he couldn’t go back? Wouldn’t his death have been completely in vain?
Pondering it from every angle, Si Huayao decided he could not take that risk. In any world, staying alive was paramount. Moreover, the node he had transmigrated to was right after the young emperor’s ascension, when the forces loyal to him were still extremely weak. As long as he handled things with caution, he refused to believe the young emperor could flip the table on him.
Muttering inwardly, Si Huayao thought, I know the plot inside and out. Knowing both myself and my enemy, what is there to be afraid of?
Having reasoned this through, Si Huayao felt a wave of relief wash over him. Suddenly feeling a chilly draft sweep past, he instinctively shivered, walked over to the folding screen, and snatched the clothes draped over it. Finding a pair of trousers, he pulled them on and tied the sash of his inner garment, finally putting an end to his naked state. The only problem was that he couldn’t find any underwear, and the ones discarded on the floor were too filthy for his liking, forcing him to temporarily go commando.
Stepping up to the bed, Si Huayao lifted the bed curtains, hooked them back, and looked at Zhao Hanqing on the mattress. The brocade quilt was half-thrown back, revealing a ghastly, agonizing view of his waist and back. Pale skin was marred by dense patches of bruised purple alongside blood-stained whip marks that crisscrossed in a terrifying pattern.
Internally, Si Huayao cursed the original owner as a complete pervert. Those purple marks weren’t love bites; they were the result of the original owner’s sadistic abuse. No wonder the young emperor wanted him dead. If roles were reversed, he might have been even more ruthless than the young emperor. Stooping down, he pulled back the quilt to reveal Zhao Hanqing’s hands, which were bound behind his back, and reached out to untie the knots.
“Since you are awake, you should get up so as not to miss the morning court session.”
In his real world, Si Huayao was a C-list minor actor. Starting out as a martial arts stunt double, he later transitioned into performing in numerous historical dramas due to his solid athletic skills and acting chops. He was far from unfamiliar with this archaic style of speech, so he simply treated it as taking on a historical acting gig.
A jolt ran through Zhao Hanqing, his body instinctively trembling. Hating this cowardly weakness in himself, he suppressed the raging fury within his chest alongside the pain racking his frame, pushed himself into a sitting position, and cast a cold gaze at Si Huayao.
Si Huayao was momentarily stunned by the sight. A mutton-fat jade bead was gagged inside Zhao Hanqing’s mouth, preventing his lips from closing. Holes were drilled through both sides of the bead, threaded with a cord tied securely around his head, though his long hair happened to conceal the string, which was why Si Huayao hadn’t noticed it initially.
“Take it off,” Si Huayao said, a flush heating his face as he deliberately averted his gaze with an air of nonchalance.
Zhao Hanqing tried to lift his hands to remove it, but because they had been bound all night, the mere act of raising them caused searing pain.
Seeing that he remained motionless after a long moment, Si Huayao looked over with a hint of surprise, stepped forward, and said, “Turn around.”
Zhao Hanqing glanced up, his pretty phoenix eyes brimming with sheer numbness, before obediently turning his back. He straightened his spine, exposing the silver chain fastened around his waist and the half-concealed contours beneath it.
Recalling the purpose of that chain, Si Huayao felt his face burn hot. He hastily looked away, fumbling blindly to untie the cord. “What a pervert! Truly a dead pervert!”
Si Huayao’s movements caused a fleeting moment of bewilderment in Zhao Hanqing. Though slightly clumsy, his touch was gentle and light, almost as if… he was afraid of hurting him. At that thought, Zhao Hanqing’s downcast eyes flickered. This must be another one of his wicked schemes.
“Chun Hai, bring two sets of clothes in.”
Chun Hai was Si Huayao’s personal eunuch attendant, currently standing guard outside the doors.
Receiving the command, Chun Hai glanced at the attendants waiting by the entrance, signaling them to handle the preparations with care, before pushing open the doors and stepping inside.
A procession of attendants walked into the grand hall with lowered heads, lining up in orderly succession to await further instructions.
“Leave the items down and all of you get out.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Chun Hai flicked his wrist; the attendants placed the items they carried onto the tables and filed out of the hall in sequence, never once raising their heads from start to finish.
With the doors closed once more, Si Huayao looked at the garments brought in layer upon layer of cumbersome fabric, far more complex than the costumes he wore during filming. To avoid making a mistake and giving away his identity through blunders, he turned his attention to Zhao Hanqing and ordered, “Attend to my dressing.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Zhao Hanqing’s voice carried a raspy edge, whether from the onset of puberty or because his vocal cords had been strained. Gritting his teeth against the agonizing pull of the wounds across his back, he stepped out of bed barefoot and walked step by step toward Si Huayao.
Watching Zhao Hanqing approach, the metallic glint of the silver chain flashed in Si Huayao’s eyes, causing his brain to detonate with a loud boom. He instinctively wanted to avert his gaze. This is just too stimulating.
Screaming internally, Si Huayao rallied himself: Si Huayao, your current persona is the Prince Regent—a lawless, unbridled pervert with a penchant for handsome men! You can’t chicken out over a tiny scene like this! Besides, he’s a man; whatever he has, you have too. Don’t be such a coward!
Desperately forcing his wandering eyes to stay put, Si Huayao maintained a look of defiant nonchalance as the young emperor drew near. He had to admit, the young emperor’s physique was exceptional broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs, representing absolute golden proportions. Especially those legs: slender, straight, and powerfully sculpted, making it impossible to tear one’s eyes away.
Seeing where Si Huayao’s gaze was locked, Zhao Hanqing’s hatred intensified tenfold, though his outward expression remained undisturbed as he walked straight to his side. Picking up the garments from the table, he began dressing Si Huayao piece by piece.
Si Huayao cooperated with the dressing process, keeping his eyes fixed on him the entire time to avoid blowing his cover, putting on an uninhibited, brazen front.
In stark contrast, Zhao Hanqing wore an expression of submissive, innocent docility. Yet, intentionally or otherwise, he kept brushing his body against Si Huayao’s frame. When it came time to put on Si Huayao’s boots, Zhao Hanqing knelt on the floor, his naked body curving into a breathtaking arc. The moment he lowered his head, a stunning, picturesque view lay entirely exposed to anyone looking down.