Lu Min: Just because I don’t mind the stench doesn’t mean I’m not a prince.
The rapid currents of the Qing River and its rocky banks make it impossible to dock just anywhere.
Marquis Zhu’s Temple was constructed with materials transported via waterway, and for convenience, a dock was built on the riverbank. Though now abandoned and unused, the refurbished area is still far superior to the chaotic rocky shallows of the riverbank.
Lu Min glanced at the carriages and horses on the boat, and at Mr. Jinshui, who could neither be carried on the shoulders nor lifted by hands, and gave up on arguing with He Haozi about the rocky shallows, claiming he didn’t care and could easily leap over them in a few bounds.
Mo Li stood at the bow, gazing ahead.
He did not see the anticipated mausoleum temple.
Historical records mention that Chu Emperor Yuan intended to build his royal mausoleum here, for his own burial a hundred years later, and wanted to emulate the Mausoleum of Maoling and the Temple of Wuhou, not by burying his ministers with him but by conducting joint sacrifices.
There were no attached concubine gardens or princes and princesses’ burial sites, only the layout resembling the southern Taiwei constellation of the Big Dipper, comprising eighteen graves, ten of which could be termed royal tombs. The layout of the archways and temples conformed to the standards of a feudal lord.
The first to be interred was Marquis Le Yang, Zhu Yan.
He was also the last.
The grand mausoleum underwent several starts and stops.
Initially, because of the establishment of a new dynasty and many other urgencies, only the part for Marquis Le Yang was constructed before work halted, with only the planned area marked out and guards assigned to clean and watch over it.
When the national treasury had surplus funds, and there were plans to refurbish the imperial city and various government offices, construction of the mausoleum finally began in earnest in the twentieth year of Chu Emperor Yuan’s reign, but it was not long before a collapse of the earth layer occurred, claiming the lives of over ten laborers. Officials from the Ministry of Works and the Imperial Astronomy Agency visited repeatedly to assess and brought up Feng Shui, claiming the Qing River as a dragon and the mausoleum’s position as unsuitable for suppressing the nation’s fortune, suggesting a relocation.
This issue dragged on in the court for a long time and eventually led nowhere.
Chu Emperor Yuan ordered a new site for the royal mausoleum, and the other ministers, thinking of returning to their roots, did not particularly oppose. Then later—
Alas.
Mo Li silently recited the geographical records of the old Chu dynasty in his heart.
The world flows like eastward water, what can one do about it?
As the boat slowly approached the shore, dusk deepened, and only the outlines of a few rooftops resembling flying eaves were visible.
The blue stone slabs on the dock were broken and scattered, with cracks filled with wild grass.
“We’ve arrived, let’s lead the horses out first,” the old boatman called to everyone.
Although Lu Min had bargained extensively with He Haozi, once he agreed, he was quite generous with his payments, showing no signs of reluctance.
He Haozi was surprised, scratching his head and even helped Lu Min harness the horses to the cart.
“Are you really a coachman? Don’t you even know how to harness?” He Haozi said with disdain.
Lu Min wanted to respond but held back, of course, he wasn’t.
Riding horses was one thing, but no one ever taught a prince how to drive a carriage!
“See here, press down on this, then lift the shaft,” He Haozi demonstrated while showing disdain.
Lu Min simply squatted down to watch, never considering that once he parted ways with Meng Qi and Mo Li, the carriage, not being his, wouldn’t follow him, making the learning useless.
Mr. Jinshui staggered onto the shore; after crossing the broken shoals, he had not recovered, and only upon setting foot on solid ground did he collapse in exhaustion.
“Didn’t you expect that escaping from Taijing would be difficult?” Mo Li asked, standing beside him.
Mr. Jinshui had brought a bundle and a large wooden box, appearing less like someone fleeing for his life and more like a scholar traveling to visit relatives. With such cumbersome luggage, how could he run if danger arose?
Mr. Jinshui felt both guilty and regretful, taking a while to say, “I had never thought of fleeing before. Because the travel documents in my possession could easily be tracked, and I lack the skills to live hidden in dense forests, I might have been captured before reaching the dock. Therefore, I had been brainstorming other possibilities. When turmoil arose in Taijing recently, I saw my chance. While trembling with fear, I waited for the outside to calm down and planned my escape… Turns out, things went smoother than I expected. The court was in chaos, and although I’m not clear about the forces behind those people, over the years, I’ve been able to identify some suspects, especially those for whom I sat proxy examinations. I know their hometowns and names. After they entered officialdom thanks to their exam success, I learned who they were attached to and whom they sought refuge with, information I could gather from Fengxing Pavilion. So when these people were successively dismissed or demoted, I was beyond elated.”
The powerful backers of the cheating scandal were heavily struck, and the revelation of their deeds seemed imminent.
—This case was too extensive, involving too many people.
Too many mouths, too much chatter.
Initially, for the sake of benefits, people could keep a secret tight because this method brought them money and power. Now with internal chaos, it wouldn’t be surprising for someone to switch factions using this secret as their admission ticket. At that time, they could abandon the sinking ship and exchange it for glory and wealth. Why not?
In such times, Mr. Jinshui had no choice but to flee.
Otherwise, he truly wouldn’t be able to leave.
“I underestimated the power behind those people; I thought with the court in such disarray, they wouldn’t have the resources to focus… Even if I were caught, at worst, it would mean death.”
Mr. Jinshui looked at the box of books, his precious collection over many years, some of which were the only copies. How could he bear to part with them?
Meng Qi shook his head upon hearing this, “Didn’t you ever consider that the people coming to arrest you might not just be silencing you?”
Mr. Jinshui hesitated, “They’ve started infighting, someone is prepared to expose this case, capturing me as crucial evidence?”
“Exactly.”
“Then… then it’s my fate,” Mr. Jinshui said bitterly.
As a participant in the cheating scandal, especially one who could substitute for others in the imperial examinations, he was bound to anger the emperor.
“Even cheating in the county or prefectural exams would provoke public outrage, let alone the imperial examinations, a leap from carp to dragon. The emperor of Qi dynasty doesn’t know the Four Books and Five Classics; the Hanlin Academy set the examination questions for the palace exams, and those people manipulated them… This scandalous case, anyone involved can’t escape death, their bodies unspared, extending the disaster to their entire clan.”
Mo Li, however, understood Meng Qi’s point. Hearing Mr. Jinshui only think of death, he frowned and asked, “Aren’t you afraid of dying?”
“What good would fear do? Fortunately, I am alone, my family having been cleanly wiped out on the day the Chu dynasty fell.” Mr. Jinshui’s expression was complex, filled with both hatred and relief. Over the years, every time he woke from a nightmare, he saw those scholars and their families who had died horrifically for their noncompliance.
Though not evil himself, his conscience could not be at peace.
Mr. Jinshui staggered to his feet, speaking with difficulty, “As long as it’s not death by a thousand cuts or being cut at the waist, it’s just a quick death by the blade.”
Seeing him like this, Mo Li found it hard to continue.
Meng Qi spoke solemnly, “You are mistaken, sir. Do you think after you are imprisoned and have identified people, after having said your piece, you can just wait for the autumn executions?”
Before Mr. Jinshui could reply, Meng Qi pulled the Second Prince over.
“You tell him.”
“… You will be tortured severely.”
Lu Min didn’t know the exact processes of the Ministry of Punishment or the Court of Judicial Review, but he was aware of the severity of a cheating scandal and knew the true faces of the ostensibly upright officials in the court.
—After all, he was a prince who had plotted rebellion.
Lu Min said to the stiff and bewildered Mr. Jinshui, “It’s said they don’t trust a criminal’s confession willingly given. This kind of major case implicates many with no chance for redemption; it’s just a matter of dying sooner or later. So even if a court official is imprisoned, they will not be spared punishment.”
“Not just that, no matter what the sir says or who he identifies, the interrogators are never satisfied,” Meng Qi lowered his voice, his gaze indicating he wasn’t just speaking to Mr. Jinshui, but rather directing his words at Lu Min.
“Even with clear official governance, factional struggles would lend personal bias, aiming to suppress political rivals. According to court laws, to prevent coerced confessions, three overseers are present during interrogations, jointly supervising the questioning. They need the accused to voluntarily provide the answers they want, so they will continue to torture until the desired answers are obtained. If the sir is unaware of the court’s political landscape and doesn’t know the names of the officials, that’s one thing, but sir knows.”
Meng Qi’s expression was stony, his voice chilling like a gust of wind over the river, cutting to the bone.
Lu Min shivered involuntarily and muttered, “Then… it will be even more painful. The three interrogators will definitely be from different factions; they cannot coerce a confession nor accept an answer unfavorable to themselves. Every time you endure torture and blurt out a name randomly, it will stir up a storm in the court. Eventually, when they reach a consensus on how to conclude the case with their interests aligned, and you still don’t know what the ‘correct answer’ is, you will be tortured over and over, speaking randomly until you mention the name they are satisfied with, only then can you sign the confession and await execution in autumn.”
Mr. Jinshui was pale as a ghost.
Scholars always spoke of propriety, and kings often claimed to govern with filial piety and virtue, yet only those who studied knew how hollow these claims were.
He Haozi was harnessing the carriage nearby, initially dawdling and eavesdropping, but he too was startled now, quickly giving up on listening and hurrying back to the boat in just a few strides.
The old boatman was leading the crew in repairing the boat, as a wooden board on the side had been caved in while passing the broken shoals.
“Uncle Yang, let’s hurry and leave!” He Haozi urged, rubbing his hands.
“You’re scared now?”
The old boatman hadn’t heard the conversation of Meng Qi and the others, but he could guess some of it from He Haozi’s expression.
He Haozi sheepishly said, “Aren’t we almost done here?”
He looked back at the cabin and hesitated, “What about Lord Cha, no, Cha Qi and his people? Are we really going to dump them in the river to feed the fish?”
Mo Li’s ears twitched in the distance.
The old boatman scoffed while holding his tobacco pouch, “A dead body will still float up unless you weigh it down with stones in a sack. Plus, why dirty our own hands? Let’s wait for the night to fall and find a shallow spot… Right, no need to dock, just throw them overboard. By the time they wake up and think of making their way back to Taijing, we’ll be hundreds of miles away.”
“Uncle Yang is wise.” He Haozi immediately flattered.
The old boatman chuckled and signaled the crew to prepare to set sail.
Lu Min saw this, smiled, and waved at He Haozi, who didn’t even look up as he paddled.
“What’s his problem, I didn’t shortchange him on the boat fare?” Lu Min was displeased.
“…Do you not realize that to others, our group is a huge trouble?” Mo Li helplessly observed, finding that the Second Prince’s mind was sometimes sharp, but often unable to grasp complex situations—this kind of tricky condition was something even a divine healer couldn’t mend.
“Trouble?”
Lu Min pointed blankly at Mr. Jinshui, “Isn’t he the only trouble?”
As Mo Li was about to speak, the Second Prince lowered his voice to avoid Mr. Jinshui, “Even considering appearances, it’s the doctor and Master Meng who stand out, easily drawing attention. But what does that have to do with me?”
Mo Li remained silent, thinking that Lu Min probably didn’t realize the analogy implied he was the ‘chicken’.
Meng Qi unmercifully said, “You simply cannot hide your identity. Others are nearly guessing your true background. Since we’re planning to hide our names and live incognito, you must be prepared for others’ prying eyes. If you arouse suspicion, you will be reported to the authorities eventually.”
Lu Min opened his mouth, then hung his head.
Meng Qi recalled how at ease Lu Min had seemed in the cabin, despite the mix of fishy and horse smells, the strange odor of the grease on the boat planks—a scent that even Meng Qi initially wrinkled his nose at.
But high-level internal masters have their methods.
Lu Min was genuinely unbothered, directly confusing the old boatman’s judgment.
This was indeed remarkable.
Meng Qi, now curious, naturally wanted to clear things up.
Mo Li listened and couldn’t help but look over.
Lu Min, seeing Mr. Jinshui still distressed and out of sorts, hesitantly and quietly said, “The doctor and Imperial Teacher don’t know, but I’m rash by nature. When learning to read and write, I was often scolded for being stubborn. My mother always indulged my father the Emperor, thinking I was causing trouble and not listening to lessons, so she locked me in the palace’s small Buddhist hall and ordered me to copy scriptures. At first, I complied, but later… I simply refused. Emperor Father grew angrier, so he often locked me up for ten days to half a month. The room was dark and poorly ventilated, initially still fragrant with incense. The palace staff ignored me, neglected the cleaning, and only changed the toilet every three days.”
Lu Min struggled to continue, coughing slightly and vaguely adding, “I’d say, the chaotic scents mixed with human energies created a dreadful odor. Eventually, I felt like I stank entirely, and after coming out, everyone avoided me. Even after washing three times, the smell lingered, only my elder brother didn’t mind… Ah, right, about this cheating scandal, how do I let my elder brother know? If we secretly send this gentleman back, I believe my elder brother will ensure that no severe torture is inflicted on him.”
Lu Min: Just because I don’t mind the stench doesn’t mean I’m not a prince.
The rapid currents of the Qing River and its rocky banks make it impossible to dock just anywhere.
Marquis Zhu’s Temple was constructed with materials transported via waterway, and for convenience, a dock was built on the riverbank. Though now abandoned and unused, the refurbished area is still far superior to the chaotic rocky shallows of the riverbank.
Lu Min glanced at the carriages and horses on the boat, and at Mr. Jinshui, who could neither be carried on the shoulders nor lifted by hands, and gave up on arguing with He Haozi about the rocky shallows, claiming he didn’t care and could easily leap over them in a few bounds.
Mo Li stood at the bow, gazing ahead.
He did not see the anticipated mausoleum temple.
Historical records mention that Chu Emperor Yuan intended to build his royal mausoleum here, for his own burial a hundred years later, and wanted to emulate the Mausoleum of Maoling and the Temple of Wuhou, not by burying his ministers with him but by conducting joint sacrifices.
There were no attached concubine gardens or princes and princesses’ burial sites, only the layout resembling the southern Taiwei constellation of the Big Dipper, comprising eighteen graves, ten of which could be termed royal tombs. The layout of the archways and temples conformed to the standards of a feudal lord.
The first to be interred was Marquis Le Yang, Zhu Yan.
He was also the last.
The grand mausoleum underwent several starts and stops.
Initially, because of the establishment of a new dynasty and many other urgencies, only the part for Marquis Le Yang was constructed before work halted, with only the planned area marked out and guards assigned to clean and watch over it.
When the national treasury had surplus funds, and there were plans to refurbish the imperial city and various government offices, construction of the mausoleum finally began in earnest in the twentieth year of Chu Emperor Yuan’s reign, but it was not long before a collapse of the earth layer occurred, claiming the lives of over ten laborers. Officials from the Ministry of Works and the Imperial Astronomy Agency visited repeatedly to assess and brought up Feng Shui, claiming the Qing River as a dragon and the mausoleum’s position as unsuitable for suppressing the nation’s fortune, suggesting a relocation.
This issue dragged on in the court for a long time and eventually led nowhere.
Chu Emperor Yuan ordered a new site for the royal mausoleum, and the other ministers, thinking of returning to their roots, did not particularly oppose. Then later—
Alas.
Mo Li silently recited the geographical records of the old Chu dynasty in his heart.
The world flows like eastward water, what can one do about it?
As the boat slowly approached the shore, dusk deepened, and only the outlines of a few rooftops resembling flying eaves were visible.
The blue stone slabs on the dock were broken and scattered, with cracks filled with wild grass.
“We’ve arrived, let’s lead the horses out first,” the old boatman called to everyone.
Although Lu Min had bargained extensively with He Haozi, once he agreed, he was quite generous with his payments, showing no signs of reluctance.
He Haozi was surprised, scratching his head and even helped Lu Min harness the horses to the cart.
“Are you really a coachman? Don’t you even know how to harness?” He Haozi said with disdain.
Lu Min wanted to respond but held back, of course, he wasn’t.
Riding horses was one thing, but no one ever taught a prince how to drive a carriage!
“See here, press down on this, then lift the shaft,” He Haozi demonstrated while showing disdain.
Lu Min simply squatted down to watch, never considering that once he parted ways with Meng Qi and Mo Li, the carriage, not being his, wouldn’t follow him, making the learning useless.
Mr. Jinshui staggered onto the shore; after crossing the broken shoals, he had not recovered, and only upon setting foot on solid ground did he collapse in exhaustion.
“Didn’t you expect that escaping from Taijing would be difficult?” Mo Li asked, standing beside him.
Mr. Jinshui had brought a bundle and a large wooden box, appearing less like someone fleeing for his life and more like a scholar traveling to visit relatives. With such cumbersome luggage, how could he run if danger arose?
Mr. Jinshui felt both guilty and regretful, taking a while to say, “I had never thought of fleeing before. Because the travel documents in my possession could easily be tracked, and I lack the skills to live hidden in dense forests, I might have been captured before reaching the dock. Therefore, I had been brainstorming other possibilities. When turmoil arose in Taijing recently, I saw my chance. While trembling with fear, I waited for the outside to calm down and planned my escape… Turns out, things went smoother than I expected. The court was in chaos, and although I’m not clear about the forces behind those people, over the years, I’ve been able to identify some suspects, especially those for whom I sat proxy examinations. I know their hometowns and names. After they entered officialdom thanks to their exam success, I learned who they were attached to and whom they sought refuge with, information I could gather from Fengxing Pavilion. So when these people were successively dismissed or demoted, I was beyond elated.”
The powerful backers of the cheating scandal were heavily struck, and the revelation of their deeds seemed imminent.
—This case was too extensive, involving too many people.
Too many mouths, too much chatter.
Initially, for the sake of benefits, people could keep a secret tight because this method brought them money and power. Now with internal chaos, it wouldn’t be surprising for someone to switch factions using this secret as their admission ticket. At that time, they could abandon the sinking ship and exchange it for glory and wealth. Why not?
In such times, Mr. Jinshui had no choice but to flee.
Otherwise, he truly wouldn’t be able to leave.
“I underestimated the power behind those people; I thought with the court in such disarray, they wouldn’t have the resources to focus… Even if I were caught, at worst, it would mean death.”
Mr. Jinshui looked at the box of books, his precious collection over many years, some of which were the only copies. How could he bear to part with them?
Meng Qi shook his head upon hearing this, “Didn’t you ever consider that the people coming to arrest you might not just be silencing you?”
Mr. Jinshui hesitated, “They’ve started infighting, someone is prepared to expose this case, capturing me as crucial evidence?”
“Exactly.”
“Then… then it’s my fate,” Mr. Jinshui said bitterly.
As a participant in the cheating scandal, especially one who could substitute for others in the imperial examinations, he was bound to anger the emperor.
“Even cheating in the county or prefectural exams would provoke public outrage, let alone the imperial examinations, a leap from carp to dragon. The emperor of Qi dynasty doesn’t know the Four Books and Five Classics; the Hanlin Academy set the examination questions for the palace exams, and those people manipulated them… This scandalous case, anyone involved can’t escape death, their bodies unspared, extending the disaster to their entire clan.”
Mo Li, however, understood Meng Qi’s point. Hearing Mr. Jinshui only think of death, he frowned and asked, “Aren’t you afraid of dying?”
“What good would fear do? Fortunately, I am alone, my family having been cleanly wiped out on the day the Chu dynasty fell.” Mr. Jinshui’s expression was complex, filled with both hatred and relief. Over the years, every time he woke from a nightmare, he saw those scholars and their families who had died horrifically for their noncompliance.
Though not evil himself, his conscience could not be at peace.
Mr. Jinshui staggered to his feet, speaking with difficulty, “As long as it’s not death by a thousand cuts or being cut at the waist, it’s just a quick death by the blade.”
Seeing him like this, Mo Li found it hard to continue.
Meng Qi spoke solemnly, “You are mistaken, sir. Do you think after you are imprisoned and have identified people, after having said your piece, you can just wait for the autumn executions?”
Before Mr. Jinshui could reply, Meng Qi pulled the Second Prince over.
“You tell him.”
“… You will be tortured severely.”
Lu Min didn’t know the exact processes of the Ministry of Punishment or the Court of Judicial Review, but he was aware of the severity of a cheating scandal and knew the true faces of the ostensibly upright officials in the court.
—After all, he was a prince who had plotted rebellion.
Lu Min said to the stiff and bewildered Mr. Jinshui, “It’s said they don’t trust a criminal’s confession willingly given. This kind of major case implicates many with no chance for redemption; it’s just a matter of dying sooner or later. So even if a court official is imprisoned, they will not be spared punishment.”
“Not just that, no matter what the sir says or who he identifies, the interrogators are never satisfied,” Meng Qi lowered his voice, his gaze indicating he wasn’t just speaking to Mr. Jinshui, but rather directing his words at Lu Min.
“Even with clear official governance, factional struggles would lend personal bias, aiming to suppress political rivals. According to court laws, to prevent coerced confessions, three overseers are present during interrogations, jointly supervising the questioning. They need the accused to voluntarily provide the answers they want, so they will continue to torture until the desired answers are obtained. If the sir is unaware of the court’s political landscape and doesn’t know the names of the officials, that’s one thing, but sir knows.”
Meng Qi’s expression was stony, his voice chilling like a gust of wind over the river, cutting to the bone.
Lu Min shivered involuntarily and muttered, “Then… it will be even more painful. The three interrogators will definitely be from different factions; they cannot coerce a confession nor accept an answer unfavorable to themselves. Every time you endure torture and blurt out a name randomly, it will stir up a storm in the court. Eventually, when they reach a consensus on how to conclude the case with their interests aligned, and you still don’t know what the ‘correct answer’ is, you will be tortured over and over, speaking randomly until you mention the name they are satisfied with, only then can you sign the confession and await execution in autumn.”
Mr. Jinshui was pale as a ghost.
Scholars always spoke of propriety, and kings often claimed to govern with filial piety and virtue, yet only those who studied knew how hollow these claims were.
He Haozi was harnessing the carriage nearby, initially dawdling and eavesdropping, but he too was startled now, quickly giving up on listening and hurrying back to the boat in just a few strides.
The old boatman was leading the crew in repairing the boat, as a wooden board on the side had been caved in while passing the broken shoals.
“Uncle Yang, let’s hurry and leave!” He Haozi urged, rubbing his hands.
“You’re scared now?”
The old boatman hadn’t heard the conversation of Meng Qi and the others, but he could guess some of it from He Haozi’s expression.
He Haozi sheepishly said, “Aren’t we almost done here?”
He looked back at the cabin and hesitated, “What about Lord Cha, no, Cha Qi and his people? Are we really going to dump them in the river to feed the fish?”
Mo Li’s ears twitched in the distance.
The old boatman scoffed while holding his tobacco pouch, “A dead body will still float up unless you weigh it down with stones in a sack. Plus, why dirty our own hands? Let’s wait for the night to fall and find a shallow spot… Right, no need to dock, just throw them overboard. By the time they wake up and think of making their way back to Taijing, we’ll be hundreds of miles away.”
“Uncle Yang is wise.” He Haozi immediately flattered.
The old boatman chuckled and signaled the crew to prepare to set sail.
Lu Min saw this, smiled, and waved at He Haozi, who didn’t even look up as he paddled.
“What’s his problem, I didn’t shortchange him on the boat fare?” Lu Min was displeased.
“…Do you not realize that to others, our group is a huge trouble?” Mo Li helplessly observed, finding that the Second Prince’s mind was sometimes sharp, but often unable to grasp complex situations—this kind of tricky condition was something even a divine healer couldn’t mend.
“Trouble?”
Lu Min pointed blankly at Mr. Jinshui, “Isn’t he the only trouble?”
As Mo Li was about to speak, the Second Prince lowered his voice to avoid Mr. Jinshui, “Even considering appearances, it’s the doctor and Master Meng who stand out, easily drawing attention. But what does that have to do with me?”
Mo Li remained silent, thinking that Lu Min probably didn’t realize the analogy implied he was the ‘chicken’.
Meng Qi unmercifully said, “You simply cannot hide your identity. Others are nearly guessing your true background. Since we’re planning to hide our names and live incognito, you must be prepared for others’ prying eyes. If you arouse suspicion, you will be reported to the authorities eventually.”
Lu Min opened his mouth, then hung his head.
Meng Qi recalled how at ease Lu Min had seemed in the cabin, despite the mix of fishy and horse smells, the strange odor of the grease on the boat planks—a scent that even Meng Qi initially wrinkled his nose at.
But high-level internal masters have their methods.
Lu Min was genuinely unbothered, directly confusing the old boatman’s judgment.
This was indeed remarkable.
Meng Qi, now curious, naturally wanted to clear things up.
Mo Li listened and couldn’t help but look over.
Lu Min, seeing Mr. Jinshui still distressed and out of sorts, hesitantly and quietly said, “The doctor and Imperial Teacher don’t know, but I’m rash by nature. When learning to read and write, I was often scolded for being stubborn. My mother always indulged my father the Emperor, thinking I was causing trouble and not listening to lessons, so she locked me in the palace’s small Buddhist hall and ordered me to copy scriptures. At first, I complied, but later… I simply refused. Emperor Father grew angrier, so he often locked me up for ten days to half a month. The room was dark and poorly ventilated, initially still fragrant with incense. The palace staff ignored me, neglected the cleaning, and only changed the toilet every three days.”
Lu Min struggled to continue, coughing slightly and vaguely adding, “I’d say, the chaotic scents mixed with human energies created a dreadful odor. Eventually, I felt like I stank entirely, and after coming out, everyone avoided me. Even after washing three times, the smell lingered, only my elder brother didn’t mind… Ah, right, about this cheating scandal, how do I let my elder brother know? If we secretly send this gentleman back, I believe my elder brother will ensure that no severe torture is inflicted on him.”
