Volume One, Chapter Five: Yuan Zuo

The next day.

Due to an infuriatingly strict routine, Shen Ran opened his eyes before dawn.

Xue Wu was still asleep.

Two blushes adorned her cheeks, making her all the more enchanting.

Shen Ran stared at her for a moment, then silently sat up and began dressing.

For reasons he wouldn’t disclose to outsiders, he never removed his undergarments when going to bed, nor did he ever require anyone’s close attendance.

Once dressed, Shen Ran slowly made his way to the outer hall.

Yuanbao, who had been standing guard there, immediately approached with a flattering smile on his chubby face. “Your Majesty!”

Shen Ran frowned. “Keep your voice down. Awu is still asleep.”

Those few words stirred up the turbulent emotions in Yuanbao’s heart that had only just begun to settle after a whole night of turmoil.

Spending the night in the Weiyang Palace, the emperor still worried about disturbing the other party.

Such treatment had only ever been afforded to Liu Ruyi before.

Yuanbao lightly slapped himself. “Yes, yes, this servant deserves death! This servant deserves death!”

Afterward, he asked, “Then Your Majesty, where do you intend to go now...?”

As a capricious tyrant, Shen Ran only appeared briefly at court in the early and late days of each month, leaving all other affairs to Liu Shizhuang, the father of Liu Ruyi, while he himself indulged in romantic pleasures with Liu Ruyi.

He let out a humorless chuckle, lazily saying, “Quietly, bring a few men and come with me to the factory.”

The factory was located in the most remote corner of the entire Great Zhou Palace, even more desolate than the cold palace. There was a row of dilapidated prison cells under the Directorate of Ceremonies, where men about to become eunuchs were castrated.

Zhao Shoude’s youngest son was currently imprisoned there, awaiting his punishment.

Yuanbao’s face turned pale. He lowered his voice anxiously. “Your Majesty, please reconsider! That factory is a filthy, foul-smelling place. How could you, the noble emperor, set foot in such a lowly place? If you want to see that boy, I can have him brought to you.”

Shen Ran gave him a faint, inscrutable look.

Yuanbao trembled and dared not speak further.

Shen Ran continued, “Tell the palace that if the empress wakes and asks where I have gone, say I’m attending to state affairs and will return shortly.”

Having been in power for so long, his voice carried a casual coldness; even his smiling peach blossom eyes held a chill.

Yuanbao bowed deeply and stammered, “Yes.”

...

Yuanbao led a dozen guards to escort Shen Ran outside the factory.

This was the place for castration, a building long neglected and falling apart, with drafts coming through all sides.

Since the days following castration required the men to remain unclothed, the procedure was usually scheduled for late spring or early summer.

But now, in the depths of winter, the prison cells were silent and empty, save for muffled sounds of struggling from one room — eerie in the cold, dark night.

However, the castration process had many rules, including signing a document stating “no grievances in life or death.” Who would choose such a time?

Trembling, Yuanbao stood in front of Shen Ran and stuttered, “Your Majesty, perhaps we should—”

“Bang!”

Before Yuanbao could finish, Shen Ran signaled the guards to kick open the door.

His pristine cloud-patterned brocade boots stepped over withered leaves and weeds as he entered.

Yuanbao was startled and hurried after him, shouting, “Your Majesty, wait, please wait!”

But Shen Ran paid no heed.

Stepping into the cell, he immediately saw a shocking scene.

A boy about fourteen or fifteen years old, eyes bloodshot, was tightly bound to the castration bed. Apart from a filthy rag stuffed in his mouth, his body was completely exposed.

One man held a knife, ready to begin.

Three others pressed the boy’s head and shoulders firmly, preventing him from struggling.

Hearing the noise at the door, they all turned to look.

Their lowly status meant they had never seen the emperor’s true face before. Shen Ran’s plain clothes marked him as extraordinary, but they did not realize he was the emperor.

After all, which emperor would come to such a filthy, squalid place?

A brief silence fell over the room.

Yuanbao rushed in and shouted hoarsely, “How dare you, you insolent servants!”

“How many heads do you have, daring to look upon His Majesty’s face!”

“Kneel immediately!”

His voice pierced the air, echoing to the heavens.

Everyone present was stunned into silence.

Moments later, the sounds of people dropping to their knees—“thud, thud”—filled the room. Except for the bound boy, everyone knelt trembling, crying out, “Your Majesty, have mercy!”

A faint, elusive smile curved Shen Ran’s lips. His gaze landed on the eunuch wielding the knife and he spoke slowly, “What is going on here?”

The eunuch in charge was named Wang Han.

Shaking as if seized by epilepsy, he replied, “Your Majesty, I am carrying out orders, orders to castrate Zhao Yuanzhuo.”

Zhao Yuanzhuo was Zhao Shoude’s youngest son.

“Oh? Orders?” Shen Ran chuckled meaningfully. “Interesting.”

“Whose orders?”

“I don’t recall any imperial decree commanding you to carry out the punishment at this hour.”

Wang Han trembled even harder.

He prostrated himself, kowtowing until his head nearly cracked the floor. “Your Majesty, forgive me! It was Noble Consort’s instruction. She said it wouldn’t be improper to do it earlier.”

“Ahhhhh!”

A heart-wrenching scream filled the air, followed by something bloody dropping to the floor.

Wang Han clutched his bloodied mouth, uttering indistinct sounds.

He could say no more.

Those in the palace all tacitly understood: although the emperor was cruel, whenever Noble Consort was involved, he always showed leniency.

Until now, Wang Han still didn’t understand what he had done wrong.

Shen Ran held the blood-stained sword lazily and declared, “Defaming the Noble Consort is punishable by death.”

The young emperor stood in the filthy, dilapidated room, his posture as upright and imposing as a cypress or pine. Yet when he raised his sword, he became a bloodthirsty demon.

He ordered, “Sever his head. Send it, along with his tongue, to the Noble Consort’s chambers. Tell her this man slandered her, and that I have avenged her.”

Sending a bloody head and tongue to a sultry, pampered noble consort?

Was this to avenge Liu Ruyi, or to spite her for enjoying herself too much?

No one dared to ask.

This man before them was a notorious tyrant, and the greatest difference between a tyrant and a wise ruler is that a tyrant may kill at will. When he wants you dead, he cares neither for your guilt nor for whose side you are on.

Liu Ruyi used to be an exception—but now, even that exception was vanishing.

The guards glanced at one another but dared not hesitate. Two stepped forward: one severed Wang Han’s head, the other picked up the fallen tongue and respectfully delivered it to Liu Ruyi.

The others knelt prostrate, trying desperately to diminish their presence, wishing they could vanish into the earth.

Shen Ran pretended not to notice.

His gaze casually swept over the boy bound to the bed. “Bring him some clothes and bring him to me.”

“As for the others...”

The air hung heavy for a moment.

Shen Ran turned his head and smiled.

“Kill them all.”