Li Chengqian was experiencing both pain and joy. For the first time in twelve years, he felt like a real man—the physical pain couldn’t drown out the satisfaction in his heart.

His wise father had always been so high and alofty. Unlike other children, he had never experienced acting spoiled or throwing tantrums. His mother wouldn’t allow it. First as the heir of Prince Qin, he had to display the demeanor of the eldest son—no loud laughter, no great anger, no tears, no…

In short, his face could only wear one expression: the gentle, elegant, composed smile of one unfazed by change. When his father won battles, he had to wear this smile, showing everything was under control. When there was no news of his father on campaign, he had to wear this smile, displaying strong confidence in his father’s safety.

When his father killed his uncle and fourth uncle, he had to wear this smile, showing support for his father. Later, when his father became Emperor and he became Crown Prince, everyone praised the Crown Prince’s refinement and filial piety. The Emperor was satisfied, the Empress was satisfied.

Only in the deep of night could Li Chengqian gaze at the low bed curtains and imagine how wonderful the world outside the palace must be. He’d heard that when Cheng Chumo got beaten by other young wastrels, Cheng Yaojin took his axe and beat up both the wastrel and his father together, then got punished by the Emperor. Others laughed, but Li Chengqian didn’t. How he wished the Emperor would take him to thrash those cousins from his uncles’ families who bullied him. He knew the Emperor had this ability—all those uncles combined were no match for the Emperor.

But the Emperor didn’t. At an appropriate time, he simply killed them all—those who had bullied him and those who hadn’t, all of them, leaving none behind. This wasn’t what he wanted. He only wanted to give them a good beating, not kill them all.

Today, he didn’t need to think such confused thoughts anymore. His feet hurt, his legs hurt, his buttocks hurt, his waist hurt, his back hurt, his chest hurt—pain surged through his entire body like waves. He let out moans that could have been either agonized or pleasurable. No need to put on a smiling face anymore. Not a single person in the entire shed wore a smile. The screams competed with each other for volume, and the faces competed for ugliness. That Yun Ye’s screams alternated between low and high-pitched, actually quite rhythmic. For the first time, Li Chengqian discovered he could find amusement in this.

Niu Mowang entered, and the scene immediately fell silent. Everyone wore expressions of unyielding determination, as if the howling just now had been done by someone else and had nothing to do with anyone in the shed. Old Cheng walked in with a smile, holding four or five pairs of underpants, which he placed beside Li Chengqian, signaling the guards to help the Crown Prince put them on.

“Yell! Why aren’t you yelling anymore? So young and already can’t endure a little hardship. Back in the day, when this old man followed His Majesty through battles among ten thousand soldiers, suffering countless injuries, I never screamed like you’re butchering pigs. The Crown Prince is the youngest and hasn’t embarrassed himself like you have.” Old Cheng’s praise made Li Chengqian blush a bit, since his own screaming just now seemed no quieter than anyone else’s.

Niu Jinda’s voice carried a threat: “This old man doesn’t care who you are—whether Crown Prince or common soldier. After training, what you do is your business. But if you delay tomorrow’s training, this old man has plenty of ways to deal with you. Don’t believe it? Just try.”

These two old fellows—one playing good cop, one bad cop—coordinated seamlessly. Old Cheng squeezed this one, patted that one, all kindness on his face, then turned to order the evening meal be prepared more abundantly.

Old Niu loudly encouraged the guards: “Massage harder, yes, loosen all the muscles and bones, let these pampered young masters get their blood flowing properly.”

Only after Old Cheng and Old Niu left with satisfaction, hands clasped behind their backs, did the atmosphere inside the wooden shed return to normal. Yun Ye continued screaming, Cheng Chumo continued groaning, Zhangsun Chong was reciting poetry, Li Chengqian was examining the underpants, and some were even singing.

Li Chengqian felt underpants were a good thing—wearing them was breathable and comfortable, especially since his little brother was no longer compressed. Truth be told, he still cared quite a bit about his little brother’s development.

A silver flask appeared before Li Chengqian, its contents fragrant with wine. He had seen all kinds of fine wines in the imperial palace, but none could compare with what was in this flask.

The wine’s fragrance was sweet, mellow, long-lasting, and lingering. Just as he was about to drink, a large hand snatched the flask away—it was Zhangsun Chong. The fellow gulped down a big mouthful, and instantly redness crept up from his neck, as he said with difficulty: “Good wine.” Then with a thud, he collapsed to the ground, snoring immediately.

The fellow was drunk. Li Chengqian knew Zhangsun Chong was testing the wine for him. The Emperor, Empress, and Crown Prince all had attendants to test their food, but because Li Chengqian insisted on sending away such attendants, when Yun Ye rashly invited Li Chengqian to drink, Zhangsun Chong out of goodwill snatched the flask and drank first to show the wine was tested and safe. He hadn’t expected this wine to be so potent that one sip knocked him out.

In fact, no one wanted to invite the Emperor, Empress, or Crown Prince to dine, no matter how great the honor. Just thinking about how one small mistake could bring disaster upon one’s entire family or even clan, and moreover, these three were themselves in high-risk positions. So only the Emperor invited others to dine as a mark of favor—rarely did subjects invite the Emperor to dine. It was too dangerous. There were many ways to flatter; why must one use this most dangerous method?

So the Crown Prince was very curious. As long as it wasn’t poisoned, never mind good wine—even wine dregs he wanted to taste. Fortunately, with Zhangsun Chong’s example before him, Li Chengqian carefully took a small sip. A spicy fire line extended from his mouth down into his belly, then the wine vapor rose, and like Zhangsun Chong, he let out a comfortable wine burp, dropped his head, and fell asleep.

Seeing the eunuch attendants frantically carrying the Crown Prince back to his tent to rest, Yun Ye slowly got up. Two hours of rest had restored much of his strength. It seemed exercise was effective—although he still couldn’t pull Cheng Chumo’s hard bow, pulling an ordinary one-stone bow was no problem. He just couldn’t shoot arrows properly. Once he drew the bow, nocked an arrow, and released, the sequence was correct but the arrow flew who knows where. So Yun Ye wasn’t enthusiastic about archery training, which always bothered Niu Jinda, who repeatedly called him mud that couldn’t stick to walls.

A few days ago, unable to endure the torment of Tang Dynasty high-grade wines any longer, Yun Ye and Cheng Chumo stole a large jar of wine from Old Cheng and secretly steamed it in the supply camp’s steamer, obtaining five jin of forty-to-fifty-degree baijiu. After tasting it, Cheng Chumo regarded Yun Ye’s skills as heavenly. He only said what he’d been drinking all these years—all those Tang Dynasty fine wines became fermented mash in his eyes. In his words: “Except for the steamed fine wine, everything else is fermented mash, only fit as a beverage with meals…”

The letter from Chang’an finally put Yun Ye’s mind at ease. He bore an uncanny resemblance to his ancestor, which made him wonder whether his character had spectacularly exploded with luck or if this was purely an atavistic phenomenon.

Having found his family, he suddenly had a grandmother, three aunts, eight younger sisters, seven widowed aunts-by-marriage, four elder sisters who had their engagements broken off, countless cousins-by-marriage and concubine-aunts—this filled somewhat the loneliness in his heart.

Seeing Old Madam Yun’s letter full of earnest expectations, Yun Ye suddenly felt he wasn’t lonely. The childish tone of the little girl naturally evoked tender feelings.

He quietly murmured to himself: “I still have to live on—damn it, I still have eight younger sisters waiting for me to earn their dowries.”