Chapter 7.

When the young eunuch came to clean up the mess in the warm pavilion, Xue Shu finally left, carrying the half-finished plate of dragon beard candy.

Dressed in the uniform of the Western Bureau’s lackeys, his sharp brows and steely gaze stood out—but so did the incongruous plate of sweets in his hands. On his way back to the bureau, he drew quite a few stares.

Even Yin Chengjing, who had just returned to the palace, noticed him. Lounging drunkenly against a pretty performer, fan in hand, he squinted for a moment before asking the attendant at his side, “That’s Xue Shu, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it,” the attendant replied hesitantly. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure, but Xue Shu’s name had been on everyone’s lips lately.

At the New Year’s Eve banquet, Xue Shu had charged in alone and slaughtered the demon fox. Blood dripping from his blade and his face a mask of ruthless resolve, the scene had burned itself into the minds of all present. The emperor later entrusted him with investigating the case, and in the days since, Xue Shu’s name had come up constantly.

Rumor had it he was just a boy of sixteen or seventeen, recently castrated and sent to the palace. He’d crossed someone in the Eastern Palace early on and been cast aside to rot in the Western Bureau—a place where ambition went to die. No one had expected him to crawl out of the muck, let alone wield a blade with such skill and force.

Now, whispers hinted that with someone like Xue Shu rising, the dormant Western Bureau might just come back to life.

“My dear brother really misjudged this one,” Yin Chengjing mused, chuckling to himself. “No wonder he’s been summoning the boy to the Eastern Palace. Must be busy trying to rope him in.” He pushed the performer off with a smirk, adjusted his robes, and strolled forward, fan in hand, to block Xue Shu’s path.

“Well, if it isn’t Little Eunuch Xue. Heading back to the Western Bureau?”

Xue Shu froze for a beat, caught off guard by the nickname. He’d yet to get used to this new identity—a eunuch in name, if not in fact. Bowing his head to hide the flicker of emotion in his eyes, he replied evenly, “Indeed, Your Highness.”

He recognized Yin Chengjing, of course. He even remembered how, at the New Year’s banquet, the prince’s gaze had kept straying his way.

“That candy you’re holding,” Yin Chengjing remarked, tilting his head to inspect it. “Dragon beard candy, isn’t it? My dear brother’s favorite. Don’t tell me he gave it to you?” He arched a brow, feigning surprise. “Heard you cracked the demon fox case—this is your reward? Bit stingy, don’t you think?”

Xue Shu’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t stand anyone disparaging Yin Chengyu, not even the Third Prince.

“I asked the Crown Prince for it myself. I happen to like it,” he replied curtly.

Yin Chengjing laughed softly behind his fan, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Little Eunuch Xue, so easily satisfied.”

Xue Shu shot him a sharp glance, patience thinning. “If Your Highness has nothing else, I’ll take my leave. The demon fox case files need to be compiled and presented to His Majesty without delay.”

His tone was far from deferential, but Yin Chengjing didn’t seem the least bit offended. With an elegant wave of his fan, he stepped aside. “Far be it from me to delay Father’s affairs. By all means, go ahead.”

Xue Shu brushed past him without hesitation.

Yin Chengjing watched him walk away, then turned to the performer at his side. “Pass word to the Second Prince,” he ordered lazily. “Let him know Xue Shu earned merit, and our dear Crown Prince rewarded him with nothing but a plate of sweets.”

The rest? He’d leave that for his second brother to handle.

*

Remembering his past life left him seething with frustration. For days, Yin Chengyu didn’t bother summoning Xue Shu, but news about the man kept pouring in.

The so-called Daoist Wangchen had “committed suicide out of guilt,” leaving Emperor Longfeng absolutely fuming. Not only did the Emperor throw out the so-called masters he’d invited back to the palace, but he also had Wangchen’s corpse tossed to the wild dogs at the pauper's graveyard. Safe to say, Longfeng wouldn’t be trusting any of those “high and mighty” Daoists again anytime soon.

Of course, others got caught in the fallout. The Eastern Depot and the Jinyiwei both took the hit. Gao Xian and Gong Hongfei, slammed for their negligence, were publicly berated by the Emperor and fined a year’s salary.

Not that these top-tier eunuchs or commanders cared about the money—it wasn’t the loss of silver but the humiliation and fear of falling out of imperial favor that stung.

Meanwhile, Xue Shu, the guy who cracked the case, naturally got a favor of Emperor Longfeng on the back.

His ruthless takedown of the demon fox was impressive enough, but when Longfeng learned that Xue Shu wasn’t some transfer from the Jinyiwei but a palace eunuch turned West Depot agent, the Emperor was over the moon.

To Longfeng, this was proof his trust in inner court officials wasn’t misplaced. It wasn’t favoritism; it was that the Jinyiwei and ministers were a pack of useless fools.

Riding this high, the Emperor had Xue showcase his skills at the training grounds, where he took on over ten elite Jinyiwei guards one after another.

And of course, Xue Shu emerged victorious.

Years of brawling in the streets had turned him into a weapon. He fought with bone-deep ferocity, showing no mercy. By the time he was done, every single guard had to be carried off the field.

Emperor Longfeng, thrilled, promoted him on the spot: Supervisor of the Imperial Horse Stables, Commander of the Four Guard Camps, and Chief Justice of the West Depot. His rank was now second only to the West Depot’s Commander. If that wasn’t imperial favor, nothing was.

“Everyone’s losing their heads now that it looks like the Emperor might bring back the West Depot,” Zheng Duobao grumbled. “The vultures are already circling, scrambling to curry favor with Xue Shu. Even the Second Prince sent a fat gift to congratulate him. And Xue Shu? He took it all, didn’t reject a single bribe.”

The bitterness in Zheng Duobao’s voice was unmistakable. He knew better than anyone how Xue Shu’s rise to power had been paved entirely by their crown prince. Now that Xue had become the man of the hour, everyone wanted a piece of him. It was infuriating.

And Xue Shu? He’d seemed loyal before, but now he was showing his true colors—short-sighted and greedy. Barely a taste of power, and he was already pocketing gifts.

But Yin Chengyu? He didn’t seem the least bit worried. Casually flipping a page in his book, he said, “Relax. Xue Shu doesn’t care about them.”

It wasn’t arrogance in his ability to control people. It was history.

In his past life, every one of these fools had tried to win Xue Shu over and failed miserably. Xue Shu hadn’t cared for them then, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

Besides, the Emperor’s trust in Xue Shu wasn’t just about saving his life. Emperor Longfeng was notoriously paranoid, and the demon fox case had rattled him badly. He was convinced that remnants of Emperor Xiao’s faction were out to get him. As far as he was concerned, everyone looked like a potential traitor.

Xue Shu, with his unimpressive background and zero ties to either the court or the palace, was the safest bet. At a time like this, anyone making moves on Xue Shu would only look guilty in the Emperor’s eyes.

Only an idiot like the Second Prince would pull a stunt like that.

Zheng Duobao, however, wasn’t as confident. He couldn’t shake the fear that Xue Shu might lose sight of his true allegiance in the face of all this newfound glory. But since the crown prince didn’t seem concerned, there was little point in arguing. So he shifted the conversation. “By the way, there’s news on what you asked me to look into.”

“Let’s hear it,” Yin Chengyu finally set his book aside, his interest piqued.

“That Daoist Wangchen isn’t from the capital. Tracking his origins is taking time, but we’ll get there. As for the scholar Zhao? We’ve got something. His entire family wasn’t just killed by the demon fox—it was a cover-up. Someone wiped them all out.”

The Zhao family had only moved to the capital a year ago. Originally from Tianjin, they’d made their fortune through grain transport and decided to settle in the city. They’d gained a reputation for their charity and kindness, becoming well-loved by the locals.

When they were slaughtered, supposedly by the demon fox, the city mourned. Many who had benefited from their generosity spoke of their tragedy with heartfelt sorrow.

This is all surface-level nonsense. Once Yin Chengyu’s men dug deeper, the truth came out: the fox demon causing trouble? A sham.

But the Zhao family’s massacre? All too real.

“Tianjin merchants, made their fortune off canal shipping?” Yin Chengyu rapped his fingers on the desk, his voice low and sharp. “What cargo? Where to?”

Zheng Duobao didn’t flinch. “South along the Grand Canal. Officially? Liquor, flour, glutinous rice—basic goods. But the real haul? Changlu salt.”

Changlu salt was under the iron-fisted control of the Salt Transport Bureau, headquartered in Tianjin. And yet...

“Contraband salt?” Yin Chengyu’s gaze snapped up, cutting through the haze of details like a knife. Suddenly, it all clicked.

The Great Yan Empire’s salt trade was locked tighter than a miser’s chest. Five major bureaus oversaw the business, each with strict permits and ironclad distribution routes. Not only were there restrictions on salt permits, but there was also a policy of "exclusive sales on shore".

Changlu salt was supposed to be sold only to the northern territories like Beizhili and Henan. But greed, as always, didn’t respect borders.

For years, smuggling had been rampant, a dirty little secret everyone whispered but no one dared expose. Black-market salt flowed south, lining the pockets of corrupt merchants, local gangs, and crooked officials. Even the salt bureau’s own officers were in on it, selling off permits, trafficking salt, and turning the market into a madhouse.

Prices skyrocketed. Fortunes were made.

In his last life, Imperial Inspector Fang Zhengke was sent to audit the Changlu Bureau. One month later, he fired back a blistering report that exposed the rot: millions in illicit profits, high-ranking officials caught red-handed for colluding with unscrupulous merchants, privately selling salt permits.

The emperor’s fury was a thunderclap heard across the empire. He ordered a thorough investigation, and no one from top to bottom was spared. Heads rolled. The Changlu Bureau was gutted from top to bottom.

And at the center of the scandal? Wan Youliang, the bureau chief. Hauled to the capital in chains, he wept, wailed, and named names—starting with Yin Chengyu’s uncle, Yu Shen. Evidence poured in: letters, witnesses, every damning detail tying Yu Shen to the smuggling ring.

Yu Shen, a former salt chief and the emperor’s trusted official, was blindsided. His protests fell on deaf ears.

Everyone knew that Wan Youliang was a student of Yu Shoufu and had many contacts with Yu Shen, so he had no reason to frame Yu Shen.

Yu Shen, dragged into the mess without warning, had no chance to defend himself before being tossed straight into prison.

Not long after, the three courts convened for a rushed trial, and Emperor Longfeng handed down his verdict personally, as if he couldn’t be bothered to waste more time.

The charges? Trafficking contraband salt. Embezzlement. Bribery. Each one a death sentence. Within weeks, the Yu family was executed to the last, their legacy dragged through the mud.

Wan Youliang, though? Oh, he got exile only.

Barely a slap on the wrist.

And the real puppet master? They stayed hidden, untouched, smug in their victory.

The righteous were buried. The schemers climbed higher. Even now, the memory made Yin Chengyu’s teeth grind.

But this time, he wasn’t waiting to be blindsided.

“Prepare the sedan,” he snapped. “I’m heading to Nanshun Alley.”

Yu Mansion was there, tucked away in the winding streets of the capital. Last time, he’d failed to save them. It haunted him every waking moment, a scar that never faded. Even after ascending the throne, even after scouring the empire for answers, he’d found nothing. The records were burned. The witnesses silenced. Wan Youliang died in exile, taking the truth with him.

By the time he found the last surviving member of the Yu bloodline, it was too late.

This time, no one would slip through the cracks.

As Yin Chengyu stepped out of the sedan, the Yu family’s plaque loomed overhead. He forced himself to breathe, to steady the storm in his chest.

This life was different.

The guilty? Every last one of them would pay.

No mercy. No escape.

*

Yin Chengyu had a long talk with his grandfather and two uncles. By the time he left the Yu Residence, it was well past midnight.

Leaning against the sedan wall, his face showed a trace of fatigue but had lost its earlier tension. He looked far more relaxed now.

So when the sedan stopped at the gates of Ciqing Palace, and he saw Xue Shu lift the sedan curtain, he didn’t even bother to be annoyed. Instead, a faint smile played across his lips. After all, if not for Xue Shu’s sharp eye in spotting the paper signal, his uncle might have avoided disaster anyway—but not nearly as smoothly.

“You’re telling me you stayed up this late just to hold the curtain for me?” he drawled, voice laced with amusement.

Xue Shu shook his head. “I’ve got something for Your Highness.”

He stared intently at Yin Chengyu, waiting for his reaction.

Yin Chengyu cast him a sidelong glance, his tone carrying a trace of indulgence: “Come in and speak.”

The faint fragrance of winter plum drifted past as Yin Chengyu’s robes swished by.

Sweet and intoxicating.

Xue Shu greedily inhaled the elusive scent, trailing close behind.

The day had drained Yin Chengyu. Too tired to bother with ceremony, Yin Chengyu led Xue Shu directly to the side hall of his bedchamber instead of the main hall.

Inside, the heated floors radiated warmth. Shedding his heavy cloak, Yin Chengyu changed into light casual wear and soft-soled shoes before stepping out to meet him.

“What’s so urgent that you had to interrupt my rest? Show me.” He lounged lazily in the armchair, casually sipping tea.

His features, sharp and refined, were striking even in repose. Now, with his hair crown removed, long black locks half-loose, his jade-like complexion seemed even more radiant. His relaxed posture and languid gaze, under the soft flicker of candlelight, were mesmerizing—an unintentional seduction.

He looked like the snow-laden branches of plum blossoms suddenly bursting into bloom overnight, dazzling and impossible to ignore.

For a moment, Xue Shu froze, his eyes locked on the sight, dark and turbulent thoughts churning within him.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze lifted, meeting Xue Shu’s. His brows furrowed instantly as he slammed the teacup onto the table. “Xue Shu!”

The sharp clang of porcelain jolted Xue Shu out of his trance. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward and set a box at Yin Chengyu’s side.

The chest was sturdy, about a foot high and two feet wide, and looked heavy.

“Open it,” Yin Chengyu ordered with a slight nod.

His servant, Zheng Duobao, stepped up and unlatched the chest. The lid lifted to reveal a dazzling array of gold, silver, and jade artifacts that caught the candlelight.

“What’s this?” Yin Chengyu arched a brow at Xue Shu, puzzled.

If it was a gift, it was embarrassingly blatant—piling up treasure like that?

Crude.

But if it wasn’t a gift, what kind of scheme involved dragging a box of riches here in the middle of the night?

“It’s what His Majesty rewarded me with. I’m giving it all to you.” Xue Shu’s tone was brazen as he pushed the box closer, setting it on the low table near Yin Chengyu.

Yin Chengyu picked up a carved white jade lion, examining it with narrowed eyes before smirking. “This from Yin Chengzhang?”

He recognized the piece. His second brother had shown it off once—a rare, flawless white jade with two green specks ingeniously crafted into a lion’s eyes by a master artisan. His brother had treasured it. Yin Chengyu hadn’t expected him to part with it just to bribe Xue Shu.

“And a few other gifts,” Xue Shu added, completely unbothered. “I reported it to His Majesty, and he told me to do as I pleased.”

Yin Chengyu laughed softly, tilting his head to look at him. “Cunning.”

If someone dared to send him gifts, he'd turn right around and report it to Longfeng Emperor without hesitation. He not only secured the emperor's trust but also walked away with tangible benefits.

Thinking back, Xue Shu was the same in the last life—always a greedy dog, snatching feathers from every passing goose.

Back then, the Second Prince, desperate to win him over, didn’t hold back on the bribes either.

He still remembers when he’d just been welcomed back to the Eastern Palace. Rumors about his relationship with Xue Shu were already flying, and after Xue Shu spent the night in the Ciqing Palace, the whispers only grew louder. To quell the gossip, the Second Prince sent people south to fetch two well-trained, exceptionally pretty boys. Polished to perfection, they were promptly delivered to Xue Shu as a gift.

But Xue Shu didn’t play by the rules. He unsheathed his blade on the spot and cut them both down, then packed their heads and sent them back to the Second Prince, claiming the boys were assassins.

The Second Prince had to cough up 200,000 taels of silver to retrieve their corpses and sweep the whole mess under the rug.

And now, in this life, Xue Shu still finds amusement in the Second Prince’s desperation. If the Second Prince ever caught wind of this, he’d probably cough blood from sheer rage.

Yin Chengyu’s mood lifted instantly as he gave Xue Shu a once-over, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Not bad.”

Then, narrowing his gaze, he asked, his tone probing, “With Yin Chengzhang treating you so generously, you’re really not the least bit tempted?”

Xue Shu shook his head, his eyes fixed on Yin Chengyu with unflinching intensity. “I only want to serve Your Highness.”

If Yin Chengyu would let him, he’d happily stay in the Eastern Palace forever.

“Why?” Yin Chengyu’s chest tightened, his curiosity sharpening.

Xue Shu thought for a moment, then simply said, “No reason.”

What he thought, he did.

No deliberation.

No hesitation.

From the very first moment he laid eyes on Yin Chengyu, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to get closer, from wanting to lay everything in the world at his feet.

People say it’s demons that enchant and corrupt, but he thinks they’ve got it wrong. The ones who truly captivate are the gods perched high in the heavens.

And Yin Chengyu is his god. Just one look, and he’d willingly kneel, surrendering completely.

———Author's Note: #A dog hopelessly smitten by beauty#

His Highness: “What do you even like about me?” The Dog: “You’re beautiful.” His Highness: “...”