She’d only watched one episode, but she already knew how bad the current Emperor’s temper was. All these requests were reasonable enough, but if she actually relayed them to His Majesty, she’d probably end up getting beaten again! Hua Chun felt her nerve failing her, looking at the old men before her with innocent eyes, instinctively wanting to shake her head and refuse.
But before she could even complete the motion, one of the men, his face covered in age spots, suddenly let out a wail:
“Prime Minister!”
The sheer volume startled Hua Chun so badly she flinched, staring at him in alarm.
Li Zhongtang said, his voice trembling, “If even you dare not offer honest counsel anymore, then this nation is surely doomed! Rather than watch the realm the late Emperor built with his own hands crumble before our very eyes, this old servant would rather go join the late Emperor in the afterlife!”
Once he started, the others chimed in as well, their faces filled with a determination to die and grief over the fall of the nation:
“If the Prime Minister no longer wishes to take risks, then please, collect our bodies for us. We ask for nothing but to rest far from the capital — we simply cannot face the ancestors of the Yuwen clan with any dignity!”
The wailing rose and fell around her like a memorial service. People outside who had no idea what was happening couldn’t help poking their heads in, worried that Prime Minister Hua had suddenly passed away.
Hua Chun looked at them with a deeply conflicted expression.
Every one of these men was old enough that, by generational rank, she’d probably have to call them “grandfather.” With them kneeling and pleading like this, she truly couldn’t bring herself to refuse. But agreeing would take real courage too.
Rubbing her own backside, she muttered very quietly, “A hundred days to mend broken bones and torn sinews — passing these along might be a bit late, don’t you think?”
The moment Grand Tutor Tang heard this, his pretend crying vanished instantly, replaced by a smile. He pulled a few plasters from his sleeve and handed them to her. “Rest assured, Prime Minister! This old servant came prepared with medicine today. With this muscle-and-bone plaster, you’re sure to be back on your feet by tomorrow!”
That miraculous? Hua Chun took it and examined it. The smell was pungent, the black substance looking utterly unreliable. But she’d read some old texts before, and plenty of unofficial histories described the wondrous effects of ancient plasters. Judging by how anxious these old men looked, surely they wouldn’t do her any harm?
She thought it over and said, “Very well, I’ll try this medicine. If I’m better by tomorrow, I’ll go to court and present myself before His Majesty. If not… please don’t press me further, gentlemen.”
“Ha, ha.” The old officials all laughed, nodding in agreement, chattering on to comfort her further before finally taking their leave.
Pin Tan went to see the guests out, completing all the proper courtesies before returning, crouching by the bed with a worried look. “Master, please take care of yourself.”
How was she supposed to take care of herself? Wearing Prime Minister Hua’s identity was basically courting disaster every single day! Hua Chun’s face fell miserably as she handed the plaster to Pin Tan, gesturing for her to apply it, then flopped onto her pillow and sighed.
Chun, a mere insignificant mortal, just a college graduate — how had her fate turned so rough, so full of misfortune? Other people’s time-travels landed them as an imperial consort or empress or something; the least lucky ones became some stunningly beautiful courtesan. But not her — first she became a man, and now it turned out she was a man constantly at odds with the Emperor.
What grudge, what enmity was this? Someone please give her a straight answer — could she even get back to modern times by dying here? If so, she wouldn’t even bother struggling anymore; she’d march straight into the palace, curse the Emperor out to his face, then lie down and wait to go home.
Closing her eyes to rest, feeling the cool sensation on her backside, Hua Chun felt herself growing drowsy, and before she knew it, she’d drifted off to sleep.
“Jinghua.”
Right as she was sleeping soundly, someone seemed to be speaking.
“Come back, Jinghua.”
People these days were such foodies, even having this deep an attachment to ham sausage? Hua Chun smacked her lips in her sleep, an old TV commercial from her childhood surfacing vaguely in her mind — Prime Quality Ham Sausage, king of lean meat!
She had no idea who was so obsessed with that old brand that they’d come calling in her ear about it.
She turned her head and kept sleeping soundly, and somehow found herself floating in midair, looking down over an entire city. No modern skyscrapers — just antique pavilions and towers as far as the eye could see.
Somehow familiar.
“This is Yanjing, don’t you remember?” someone sighed.
Yanjing? Hua Chun thought hazily — wasn’t Yanjing just Nanjing? The ancient capital through six dynasties, the place where she lived — how could she forget that? Only the ancient version and the modern version were rather different.
The mist parted, and she seemed to have grown wings, flying past the streets of Yanjing, red lanterns and towering eaves flashing before her eyes. Further ahead stood a palace with vermillion walls and yellow-tiled roofs. The imposing palace gates opened, and inside, palace attendants walked with heads bowed all the way through.
Continuing deeper, past the eight-tiered jade steps, she suddenly saw the figure seated on the dragon throne.
Hua Chun was a little stunned — she saw that same domineering, cool, dazzling emperor from earlier that day, resting his forehead on his hand, asleep.
His eyelashes were so long, thick and black like tiny brushes. With his eyes closed, he didn’t look nearly as frightening as he had in the daytime; his sturdy frame looked like a sculpture, and she couldn’t help wanting to reach out and poke that bicep.
But before she could get close, Yuwen Jie’s eyes suddenly snapped open, a sharp light shooting from his gaze. Startled, her heart sank and her whole body tensed, as if she were suddenly falling — and she jolted fully awake.
Opening her eyes, she found herself once again facing the carved wooden bed frame. A cold sweat broke out across Hua Chun’s back, and she lay there dazed for a long while, unable to gather her thoughts.