Chapter Three: Buying One’s Life

Back at the main quarters, the maids had already prepared hot water for a bath. Weary, Yan Jun merely nodded and dismissed them, leaving the spacious room empty save for himself.

He shed his garments and stepped into the tub. The heat of the water surrounded him, gradually thawing his chilled limbs. He immersed his head beneath the surface, and in the hush of that moment, he felt his fear rising, deep and overwhelming.

Though he was the creator of this world, he was no longer its master. Once, he could dictate its laws with a brushstroke, but now he too must obey them.

From the moment he had arrived, Yan Jun sensed that certain details were beginning to stray from the original story. He himself was an anomaly, Liang Chen had actually married him, and his task was to help Liang Chen seize the throne. None of it surprised him anymore, not even Liang Chen’s altered disposition.

But he was far too weak. Even with knowledge of the story as his only advantage, he lacked power or status, his life as fragile as an ant’s—easily crushed. He needed to grow stronger, to win Liang Chen’s trust.

Emerging from the tub, Yan Jun shook the water from his hair, then stepped out to dress in his nightclothes. “Wanxin, Xianglan.”

Two young women of similar age entered. The one on the left, Xianglan, wore a calm, composed expression, while the one on the right, Wanxin, had a playful, impish air. They both curtseyed to Yan Jun. He took out paper and brush from a nearby cupboard and placed them on the table. “Xianglan, write a letter for me to send back to Yangzhou.”

Xianglan gave him a puzzled look but nodded. “Yes.”

Yan Jun draped on an outer robe and paced near the table. Xianglan sat down, brush in hand, recording every word Yan Jun dictated. Beside her, Wanxin leaned on the table to watch the writing.

The candle flame flickered gently, and apart from Yan Jun’s steady voice, only the soft scratch of Xianglan’s brush disturbed the quiet.

“Sister Xianglan, your calligraphy is so lovely,” Wanxin remarked, admiring the fluid strokes.

Xianglan answered with a small, polite smile, only for Yan Jun to tap Wanxin lightly on the head with his finger. Wanxin winced and looked up, blinking at him in complaint. He said, “If you think Xianglan writes beautifully, you should learn from her.”

Wanxin shot him a wounded look, then quickly turned away. Yan Jun laughed and let the matter drop.

He thought of Wanxin as a younger sister. She was the first person he’d encountered after landing in this world, and—like him—she did not appear in the original novel. She was as much an anomaly as he was. There was also that old man, something of a walking NPC, to whom Yan Jun had promised he would find Wanxin a suitable marriage someday.

As for Xianglan, she was the head maid the Lin family assigned him, acting as a bridge between him and the Lin household. Their relationship was more one of collaboration—she obeyed the Lin family’s orders, and he needed her assistance.

When the letter was finished, Xianglan tucked it into her sleeve, prepared to deliver it at dawn to the Lin family’s establishment in Jian’an City. Then she and Wanxin withdrew, leaving Yan Jun to take his rest.

*

Early the next morning, at the hour of mao, the first rays of sunlight crept across the sky.

Prince Jing’s estate still bore traces of the wedding revelry from the day before. Servants bustled through their chores, yet the newly arrived Consort who had just married in was still asleep.

“Sister Xianglan, has His Highness Consort awakened yet?” a maid’s voice called softly from outside.

Their conversation roused Yan Jun from a pleasant dream of future fame. Through half-slumber, he heard Xianglan’s reply. “Not yet. What is it?”

The young maid answered, “His Highness and the Princess Consort must enter the palace today to pay respects. The prince is already up; surely the consort should rise soon as well.”

Xianglan glanced at the dim, early sky, her tone uncertain. “Now?”

The maid nodded. Xianglan hesitated but said, “Very well, I’ll go call His Highness Consort.”

She opened the door to the inner room. Through the thin bed-curtains, she saw Yan Jun’s figure and paused in mild apprehension.

When woken too early, Yan Jun usually wore a sour expression. He was not the sort who lashed out, but he would remain grim-faced until his irritation subsided. None of the younger maids dared provoke him, so either Xianglan or Wanxin had to do the honors. Today, Wanxin had gone to prepare breakfast in the kitchen, so it fell to Xianglan instead. She sighed to herself.

“Come on in,” came a voice from within. Before Xianglan could summon the nerve to speak, Yan Jun spoke first.

She exhaled in relief. “Your Highness Consort, you’re awake. The prince sent word that the two of you should enter the palace early today.”

“Understood. Help me dress and tidy up.”

Yan Jun pulled on an outer robe and stepped onto the floor barefoot, lifting the bed-curtain. Xianglan caught sight of his appearance and could not help a small tremor of awe. He was too beautiful.

He and Lin Yan shared an eight-part resemblance, but what Lin Yan carried as a casual, streetwise charm, Yan Jun replaced with a certain composed reserve. If he were a woman, Xianglan thought, he would not only surpass Lin Yan as a daughter of the Lin family—he might stun the entire realm.

Yan Jun seated himself at the dressing table while Xianglan, joined by several junior maids, attended him. As a new daughter-in-law visiting the elders, his attire must neither outshine others nor appear lacking.

A quarter-hour passed, and Xianglan set the final hair ornament in place. Yan Jun gazed at his reflection in the bronze mirror, momentarily lost. He had always known he was considered handsome—back in university, he had even been voted the “prince” of his department. Yet never had he imagined that wearing female attire could be so stunning. If only he were truly a woman…

He quickly gave himself a mental slap. What nonsense. He was a dyed-in-the-wool straight man, forced by circumstance into this role, nothing more.

Scolding himself, he rose to leave just as Wanxin jogged in, carrying a food box. “Mas—” She barely uttered a syllable before Yan Jun silenced her with a sharp glance.

Wanxin swallowed nervously and corrected herself. “Congratulations, my lady. I learned a few new recipes this morning and made some pastries especially for you.”

She cautiously approached, opening the box to reveal an array of colorful cakes. Yan Jun swallowed at the sight, feeling his appetite stir. But there wasn’t time to indulge.

He grabbed one piece and popped it into his mouth, then wrapped two more in a handkerchief and slipped them into his sleeve. Calling Xianglan, he headed off to the front hall.

By the time Yan Jun arrived there, Liang Chen had already finished two cups of tea. Glancing at Yan Jun, a trace of astonishment flickered in his eyes, yet his voice remained indifferent. “You’ve certainly kept me waiting, Princess Consort.”

Today, Liang Chen was dressed not in crimson but in a robe of pale moon-white, lending him a scholarly air—if not for his frosty demeanor.

Yan Jun gave a slightly awkward smile and walked up to him. “Your consort was rather excited by the grand wedding last night and couldn’t sleep for a long time. I beg Your Highness’s pardon.”

“Is that so?” Liang Chen replied. “I suspect it was your boldness that kept you awake.”

Yan Jun responded with a mild laugh. “You jest.”

Liang Chen stood and brushed past him with a faint, mocking snort, heading out the door. Yan Jun sighed and followed.

They stopped at the gates of Prince Jing’s estate, where Liang Chen stepped into the carriage first. With Xianglan’s help, Yan Jun climbed the small step stool, almost reflexively thanking the attendant. The young man gave him a startled look as he ducked into the carriage.

Liang Chen looked up at him briefly, then dropped his gaze again. Yan Jun, aware of his place, settled near the door. The carriage lurched forward in this oddly stilted atmosphere.

In the early morning streets, a night watchman still called the hour, while a dung collector hawked his services nearby, the clamor filling every corner of the city.

Yan Jun sat quietly, fidgeting with his nails, until Liang Chen broke the silence. “There’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“Hmm?” Yan Jun lifted his head in surprise.

Liang Chen fixed him with a steady look. “How did the Lin family convince you to pose as a substitute bride? You’re obviously clever. If you worked your way up in government, you’d surely find a place at court in time. Why risk so much for them? What did the Lin family promise you?”

“A benefit, you say?” Yan Jun answered in a half-jesting tone. “Truth is, they didn’t offer me anything special. I’m simply someone who likes to gamble for wealth where danger lurks.”

“Is that right?” Liang Chen’s expression suggested disbelief.

Yan Jun made a show of pondering. “Oh, I suppose if there’s a real perk, it’s that as long as I remain in the Lin family’s boat, they’ll help me unconditionally. Plus I get the proceeds from their shops in Jian’an City.”

“Look, how great is it to chase prosperity in peril? The game has barely begun, and I’ve already gained things that most people could only dream of.” He leaned closer. “Tell me, Your Highness, would you like to join me in this quest for riches amid danger?”

Liang Chen laughed, short and cold. When the laugh subsided, he regarded Yan Jun with a glint of frost in his eye. “Yes, wealth gained through danger is indeed enticing. But one must live long enough to enjoy it.”

Yan Jun managed a shaky chuckle, gripping the handkerchief tightly. “Come now, I’m certain if we join forces, we’ll both have a chance to savor that prosperity. You also have Anbei’s support behind you.”

Liang Chen’s gaze darkened at that remark. So the reason this person had chosen him was indeed Anbei. Right now, Anbei was the empire’s strongest bulwark, so formidable that enemies without could not breach it, and those within eyed it warily. Because of that, the court had trapped him in Jian’an for years.

Then Liang Chen said, “The Lin family’s shops in Jian’an must bring in a tidy sum each year.”

Momentarily caught off guard, Yan Jun blinked. In truth, he had no idea how much the shops earned—he’d only just taken them over. Still, given the Lin family’s wealth and Jian’an being the imperial capital, the profits had to be substantial.

He nodded. “Yes, quite substantial. So, you see, I have money, and you have power…”

“In that case, how about one hundred thousand taels to buy your life? So you’ll at least live to enjoy that so-called prosperity.”

“...???”