Chapter 5

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Xue Jin’an woke up precisely after eight hours of sleep, and Do Not Disturb mode was disabled the moment his eyes opened. Immediately, he sensed something was amiss.

There was a heavy weight on him, something pressing down—not the damp quilt’s texture. Lowering his gaze, he found it was clothes—layer upon layer, stacked thicker than a blanket. A not particularly strong arm was tightly wrapped around his body, sealing him within this “clothing blanket.” Most of the weight he felt came from that arm.

The owner of the arm lay asleep at the edge of the bed, brow furrowed uneasily, dark shadows beneath his eyes clearly showing he hadn’t slept well through the night.

Xue Jin’an found the situation puzzling, a strange sensation as though much had been missed in his sleep.

In his memory, except for the initial days after arriving at the Qifeng Courtyard, when the original owner was plagued by fear, panic, and nightmares causing frequent nighttime awakenings, Xiao Luzi had only accompanied him a few times at the bedside. Usually, he slept on the bed in the side chamber. Xiao Luzi was always proper, strictly observing the master-servant distinction; without Xue Jin’an’s orders, he wouldn’t do anything unnecessary.

So why was Xiao Luzi here?

Xue Jin’an was at a loss. He tried to sit up, and at once, Xiao Luzi startled awake.

“Ma—Master, you’re awake?” He struggled to open his bloodshot eyes, apparently frightened by Xue Jin’an, his speech faltering.

Xue Jin’an’s high-definition camera eyes keenly caught the unnatural microexpressions: a slight stiffening of facial muscles, a sudden tightening of breathing, evasive eyes, and a bead of sweat on the forehead.

A classic microexpression, practically screaming guilt.

Xiao Qi Ling didn’t understand human emotions or the art of speech but excelled at formulaic patterns. Tilting his head, he observed quietly.

Xiao Luzi quickly composed himself. He reached out to touch Xue Jin’an’s forehead, feeling the temperature, and exhaled in relief, “Fortunately, no more fever.”

“You had a high fever in the middle of the night, burning hot enough to frighten me. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t disturbed you outside the door yesterday, you wouldn’t have come out and caught the cold…” Xiao Luzi began to blame himself, his eyes reddening.

Xue Jin’an, conditioned by habit to treat his phone as a constant, instinctively dropped that line of thought and continued with the current topic.

He tried to explain to this human that charging the phone while using it causes heat, matter-of-factly saying, “It’s not a cold, just a normal fever. It’s not your fault.”

Xiao Luzi took this as comfort, his guilt overwhelming him to the brink of tears, yet he held back from breaking down in front of his master. “Though the fever has subsided, I can’t guarantee it hasn’t harmed your body. We must summon a court physician—have him prescribe medicine to dispel the cold.”

At this point, his expression once again betrayed complex emotions, difficult for Xue Jin’an to decipher.

“A court physician?” Xue Jin’an tried to search for the term’s meaning.

Xiao Luzi nodded earnestly, warning, “If you feel unwell in the future, tell me. I’ll get medicine from the imperial hospital. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t let those physicians take your pulse—they might be loyal to unknown parties. Do you understand?”

Last night, Xiao Luzi hadn’t sought a physician because there were only two people in the Qifeng Courtyard; if he left, his master would remain unconscious, and he feared something might go wrong. Also, the master’s sleep was restless, often kicking off the covers, making it hard for him to rest assured.

Moreover, the palace was the ultimate place for sycophancy and ruthless factionalism: favored ones were surrounded by flatterers, while the fallen were trampled upon. Often, the intense palace intrigue wasn’t due to great grudges; the eunuchs and maids who made life difficult did so merely to secure their own survival. Standing on the wrong side in the palace might be forgivable, but fence-sitters were doomed to perish early.

This was the rule throughout the palace, and the imperial hospital was no exception.

Most crucially—and the reason he couldn’t tell outsiders—Xiao Luzi had sensed something abnormal in Xue Jin’an’s body.

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Last night, his master’s body alternated between burning heat and icy coldness. When hot, it felt scorching; when cold, he resembled a corpse, even his breath stopped. Xiao Luzi stared at that unchanging, corpse-like face, regardless of whether he was breathing, and observed through the entire night. Eventually, he couldn’t hold on and dozed off, dreaming endlessly of this eerie breathing cycle.

Time in the dream stretched infinitely. Ultimately, Xiao Luzi reconciled with himself and decided to keep the master’s anomaly a secret. After all, no one could guarantee what consequences would arise if it leaked—would they say the master was a demon reborn? Or something else… whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

The death of Consort Zhen taught him one truth: being special only invites disaster.

Still, neglecting the master’s abnormality was impossible. He had to establish connections with the imperial hospital and find ways to restrain the physicians from gossiping… He resolved to spend more time near the hospital.

Suppressing the tangled thoughts in his heart, he only wished to find a reliable doctor to perform a full body checkup on his master, unaware that this was the first step toward the future Nine Thousand Years of the Factory Capital.

Xue Jin’an stared at Xiao Luzi for a long time without discerning anything significant. Xiao Qi Ling decided not to trouble his mechanical brain and cleared some memory. The inexplicable emotional clutter vanished like a rocket, leaving him refreshed.

The princes’ communal kitchen provided hot water nonstop 24/7. Usually, it was also possible to warm meals there, but it was quite a distance from Qifeng Courtyard. At peak water usage hours, if the kitchen staff were deliberately difficult, fetching water could take an hour or more.

Xiao Luzi simply built a makeshift stove from stones in the courtyard, gathered fallen leaves and flowers as firewood, and skillfully lit a fire with a fire striker. The entire process was smooth and practiced, clearly not his first time.

After washing up, Xue Jin’an glanced at his phone’s battery, which had slid down to 30%, and said, “I’m hungry.”

Xiao Luzi, as expected, pulled out a brocade handkerchief embroidered with clouds, inside which was a piece and a half of crystal cake. He had only eaten half last night, then carefully rewrapped it while Xue Jin’an was distracted watching a livestream.

The handkerchief was slightly warm and damp, with some dust at the edges—evidently warmed when he lit the fire just now.

“Master, please eat something first. I’ll go to the imperial kitchen to fetch food.” Mentioning the imperial kitchen made him tremble slightly, suppressing his fear.

Xue Jin’an opened his memo’s grudge list, recalling the battery parts he had yet to receive, his tone rising slightly: “I’ll go with you.”

He then opened the livestream app to check the imperial kitchen’s channel—lively and bustling, with a dazzling array of dishes. What attracted Xue Jin’an most was the white, crystal-clear rice.

He was determined to get a good battery, one with over 80% health. His energy surged.

Xiao Luzi was startled by this but didn’t want his master to endure disdain and cold treatment, so he hurriedly stopped him, “You can’t go to a place like that…”

Xue Jin’an simply stepped forward and started out, having set his phone’s route straight and refusing to change it last minute. Xiao Luzi had no choice but to follow with a worried expression.

He hoped those despicable kitchen staff wouldn’t push their luck. It would be one thing if they beat him, but if they harmed his master… Xiao Luzi pressed his lips, a fierce gleam flashing in his eyes.

As it turned out, Murphy’s Law was universal and timely.

It was early court session time; the princes and princesses were in the study halls, so the imperial kitchen wasn’t crowded.

From a distance, Xue Jin’an’s high-definition camera scanned around, spotting only a limping old eunuch and two young palace maids. The two maids were sweating, likely waiting here for some time, enduring hardship with forced smiles. They appeared to be servants of some less-favored consorts or princesses.

The old eunuch arrived last, wearing insignia of high rank. The kitchen staff treated him with utmost respect. Even without hearing their voices from afar, the obsequiousness of the lead eunuch was clear from his bent back. The lead eunuch personally handed a food box to the guest within five minutes, bowing repeatedly until the old eunuch was several meters away.

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“Such double standards,” Xue Jin’an remarked.

What he didn’t expect was that this double standard would soon apply to himself.

Though Xue Jin’an wore wrinkled old clothes, the fabric was fine and unmistakably not ordinary. Only princes and their tutors could freely wear casual clothes in the palace.

Even if the kitchen staff didn’t recognize the Seventh Prince’s face, they all knew Xiao Luzi well enough to guess Xue Jin’an’s identity with a little thought.

Yet no one took the fallen Seventh Prince seriously.

They feigned ignorance, focused on their tasks or watched the spectacle. No one came forward to pay respects. The lead eunuch in the kitchen slouched in a rocking chair, half-raising his eyelids to reveal a yellowed tooth, “Sorry, Eunuch Lu, you’re late today. Only some leftovers remain.”

He waved his hand, and two young eunuchs brought out two buckets filled with scraps, gesturing, “Here’s what’s left. If you don’t mind, take it.”

Xiao Luzi’s face turned green with anger. “Wang Deming, how dare you!”

“Eunuch Lu, please forgive me. I did my best. If you don’t like it, just leave it. No need to make things difficult for me.” Wang Deming glanced at the blank expression of the Seventh Prince behind him. His words were decent, but his face was indifferent.

Xiao Luzi’s eyes gleamed fiercely.

Xue Jin’an remained calm. His earlier scan revealed Wang Deming’s heartbeat was actually the healthiest, and he estimated the eunuch’s battery health at around 80%. He pondered where to get money to buy a new battery, paying no attention to the verbal sparring.

To him, if others wouldn’t let him eat, he’d just take it himself—after all, his food and lodging were covered.

So he did just that, calmly stepping past the two men straight into the imperial kitchen. He grabbed an empty food box and, amid startled and uncertain gazes, took whatever he liked.

“Hey, that’s Consort Rong’s order—” a young eunuch tried to stop him.

Xue Jin’an tilted his head and stared, his dark eyes emotionless, carrying a chilling indifference.

No one dared move instantly.

In truth, Xue Jin’an was only wondering who Consort Rong was. He had cleared his memory of unimportant names twice last night and this morning, and some names had vanished with the rocket-like purge.

He nodded, “Is that so? Tell her to come find me.”

He continued selecting dishes.

Wang Deming couldn’t sit still any longer. He sprang up from his chair and strode inside. Xiao Luzi, sensing danger, rushed in to block Xue Jin’an’s path.

Wang Deming forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Seventh Prince, this is inappropriate. If His Majesty finds out—”