This is a tactical retreat, Yu Wanyin thought, meant to make me feel guilty.

But for some reason, she didn’t feel repulsed at all; in fact, she even felt a sense of relief.

“Even if you don’t pretend to be pitiful, I won’t leave,” she patted Xiahou Dan’s hand. “Get well soon. We still need your acting skills for our next plan.”

Xiahou Dan silently watched her. She sat there, her eyes slowly rolling like a little animal preparing to hunt.

Yu Wanyin was lost in thought and suddenly felt a tickle in her nose. She sneezed.

Xiahou Dan touched her sleeve, “You’re soaked?”

“It’s nothing…”

Xiahou Dan grabbed the bell beside him and rang it to summon a servant, “Take the noble consort to take a bath.”

Yu Wanyin soaked in a hot bath, her worries dissipating. She hadn’t felt this peaceful and content in a long time.

She dried her hair and was about to say goodbye to Xiahou Dan when he casually said, “It’s raining. Don’t bother going back. Stay.”

Yu Wanyin hesitated for a moment before gladly lying down beside him. The bed was warm, and the sound of the rain outside was lulling her to sleep.

“Does it still hurt a lot? Want me to massage it?”

“Yes.”

Xiahou Dan lay there with his eyes closed, feeling her warmth close to him. The little animal was defenseless, just wanting to keep warm.

Xiahou Dan took two days off from court due to his illness. On the third day, he sat on the throne, looking as usual, and lazily said, “The Empress Dowager has wanted to build a mausoleum for years. Now her birthday is approaching, and I want to show my filial piety. Ministry of Revenue, are the taxes sufficient?”

The Minister of Revenue was dumbfounded, “I will verify immediately.”

Xiahou Dan had previously killed a Minister of Revenue in court, and the current one was that man’s brother. The fact that the new Minister took over without causing any ripples, with all the government affairs running as usual, showed the state of the Da Xia court.

For over a decade, the court had been embroiled in factional struggles, with power plays raising countless ineffectual officials. Officials came and went quickly; a decree in the morning, an appointment in the afternoon, and perhaps a burial in the evening.

In such an environment, everyone’s minds were on survival or squeezing as much profit as possible while in office. Countless policies were ignored, and those who tried to implement them were long dead.

The Minister of Revenue was anxious.

Other decrees he might be able to pretend to follow, but the Empress Dowager’s mausoleum was something he couldn’t fake. He owed his position to the Empress Dowager, and this was his chance to make a mark.

But there was a real problem: the national treasury was empty.

Such a large project as the mausoleum, where could he find the money?

The Minister of Revenue thought of the only solution: continuing to exploit the people.

The next morning in court, Xiahou Dan lazily said, “The Ministry of Revenue proposes to continue increasing taxes this year. What do you all think?”

None of the ministers dared to speak. The Emperor’s whim to show filial piety meant that even though everyone knew the people were already squeezed dry and that more taxes might lead to rebellion, no one dared to oppose it.

Xiahou Dan waved his hand, “Then so be it.”

The news of the tax increase spread like wildfire, and within a few days, the capital was filled with grumbling. The people’s grievances fell on deaf ears.

That day, Xiahou Dan left the palace to visit an ailing old minister. Before departure, he had a long conversation with the driver.

On the way back to the palace, the carriage suddenly halted.

Xiahou Dan sat steadily inside, hearing the guard shout, “Who dares block the Emperor’s path!”

The shout was loud enough for people half a street away to look over.

Knowing the actors were in place, Xiahou Dan leisurely opened the curtain and stepped out, asking, “What’s happening?”

In the distance knelt a ragged extra, who, upon seeing the Emperor, immediately began wailing like a pig being slaughtered, “Your Majesty! Heaven! Open your eyes! The common people toil year-round, but their grain only lasts for sustenance. My siblings starved to death as infants…”

Among the crowd, Li Yunxi thought, “Why does this speech sound familiar?”

The extra repeated word-for-word what Li Yunxi had said on the boat and ended with, “We can’t survive. If taxes increase, we’ll have to offer our heads to feed the Emperor with our blood!”

He kowtowed loudly.

Li Yunxi: “…”

The surrounding people, moved to tears, joined the cries, blocking Xiahou Dan’s way.

Xiahou Dan appeared disheveled and furious, clenching his fists, then suddenly slapped the guard, shouting, “Incompetent! Bring the Minister of Revenue here!”

The Minister of Revenue knelt before Xiahou Dan under the watchful eyes of the citizens.

Xiahou Dan: “Why are taxes being raised?”

The Minister of Revenue: “…”

Wasn’t it your decree?

The Minister of Revenue stammered through the explanation, wisely omitting the Emperor’s filial piety and claiming it was his own idea.

Xiahou Dan self-righteously said, “So the tax increase is for the mausoleum? What about the taxes originally for the imperial tomb?”

The Minister of Revenue was speechless.

Xiahou Dan: “Take me to see. The people deserve an explanation today!”

Soon after, the Minister of Revenue, drenched in cold sweat, shakily opened the door to a treasury.

Xiahou Dan stood stiffly at the entrance, then suddenly laughed maniacally, “Where’s the money? Where’s my money?!”

Palace attendants knelt in panic.

Xiahou Dan’s eyes flashed with rage as he snatched a sword from a guard, striding towards the Minister of Revenue.

The Minister of Revenue wet himself on the spot, “Your Majesty!!!”

“Your Majesty,” An Xian came running, “General Zhang of the Right Army urgently reports…”

He whispered in Xiahou Dan’s ear, but Xiahou Dan impatiently said, “Speak up.”

An Xian: “The military pay has gone moldy.”

Xiahou Dan dropped the sword, took the memorial, scanned it, then threw it at the Minister of Revenue’s face, “They’re threatening me, saying if this year’s pay isn’t increased, they won’t have the strength to guard the borders.”

Everyone knew those generals were mostly supporters of the Crown Prince, pressuring the Emperor now because they’d heard of the tax increase and wanted a share.

Xiahou Dan stumbled, “Fine, fine. Everyone’s asking for money, but the treasury is empty. This dynasty might as well change surnames!”

The Minister of Revenue, having finished wetting himself, was calm, “I deserve to die.”

Xiahou Dan didn’t pick up the sword again, but after catching his breath, wearily said, “I need to discuss this with my mother.”

Meanwhile, the Empress Dowager heard about the day’s drama.

She was somewhat alarmed, “The treasury can’t stay empty.”

Those who had never led troops were always afraid of those soldiers. They feared them but also relied on them for protection.

“Those military men are simple-minded. For now, we must feed them,” the Empress Dowager said, adjusting her bejeweled hairpin with a smile, “Tell the Ministry of Revenue to find a way to allocate some supplies.”

Her confidant asked, “And the mausoleum?”

The Empress Dowager looked at her bright red nails, “The Emperor’s filial piety is rare. The mausoleum must be built.”

In the Imperial Garden, Zhang San’s “Two Dragons Playing with a Pearl” flower formation was planted and would bloom soon.

After dismissing the attendants, he dug a small hole beneath the “pearl” and buried a box.

Inside was a note: “If you are a fellow traveler, leave me a message. I want to meet you.” — written in simplified characters, left to right. Any transmigrator would understand at a glance.

With the flowers yet to bloom, Zhang San found excuses to loiter nearby every day.

Naturally, the soil showed no signs of disturbance.

Xiahou Dan recounted the drama to Yu Wanyin, who laughed heartily, “You’re quite the actor!”

Xiahou Dan: “It’s my only talent left.”

Yu Wanyin: “It worked very well. This way, Erlan and the others can step in, and it’s only a matter of time before the Ministry of Revenue implements the Kaizhong method.”

“But the seed problem remains unsolved…”

“It’s time to study Yan’s situation,” Yu Wanyin said thoughtfully. “I’ll start with some research in the library.”

The library had been rebuilt, with a new collection replacing the burned books.

Yu Wanyin spent a whole day there, finding a few encyclopedias about Yan and sweet-talking the attendants into letting her take the books home to read.

As she passed by her original desk on the second floor, Yu Wanyin casually glanced out the window and suddenly froze in place.

In the imperial garden, a new batch of flowers had bloomed.

From her vantage point on the second floor, she could see a huge “SOS” shape formed among the flowers.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as she turned to ask a palace servant, “When were those flowers planted?”

The servant replied, “I don’t know, my lady.”

Yu Wanyin couldn’t focus on borrowing books anymore and rushed downstairs to the flower bed.

The SOS shape was made up of clematis flowers, their pinkish-purple color standing out from the surrounding greenery.

Could it be as she suspected? Was this really planted by a fellow transmigrator?

There was definitely no such plot in “Rebirth of the Devil’s Favorite Concubine.”

Could there be another companion who accidentally transmigrated here like her? If this SOS was a message, there should be more clues around.

Yu Wanyin looked around, first searching the nearby tree hollows but finding nothing. Undeterred, she bent down to examine the soil beneath the flower bed.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

Turning as if on instinct, she saw the sullen little crown prince quietly watching her.

Their eyes met for a few seconds before the crown prince bowed, “Consort.”

“…Your Highness, what are you doing here?”

The crown prince’s eyes held a mixture of wariness and confusion. “Just passing by.”

Yu Wanyin took two steps closer, a startling guess forming in her mind.

She pressed her lips together and tentatively asked, “In front of my house, there are two trees. Do you know what kind they are?”

The crown prince stared at her blankly.

Yu Wanyin took another step closer. “One is a date tree, and the other?”

The crown prince’s brows furrowed slowly. “Consort?”

In the distance, a young eunuch hurried over, bowed to Yu Wanyin, and then addressed the crown prince, “Your Highness, the Empress Dowager is waiting for you.”

Yu Wanyin watched them leave with disappointment.

“Hurry, Your Highness,” the young eunuch urged in a panicked whisper. “The Empress Dowager is not well.”

Zhang San, in a daze, was pushed into the Empress Dowager’s bedchamber.

For a moment, he didn’t recognize the woman on the bed with half of her face drooping and her eyes bulging.

She had had a stroke and aged twenty years overnight. Drool hung from her slack mouth as she trembled and extended a claw-like hand toward him.

Zhang San took the Empress Dowager’s hand.

Her fingers gripped his like an eagle’s talons, as if trying to hold onto a sliver of resolve. Her eyes were filled with an almost tangible resentment that threatened to swallow him whole.

Outside, an attendant announced, “The Emperor has arrived!”

Zhang San paused and turned his head.

A tall figure walked to the bed, knelt, and called out, “Mother.” Without waiting for a response, he looked up at Zhang San and gave him a cold smile, “Dan.”

Zhang San did not respond.

The Empress Dowager glared at the Emperor from the bed. The Emperor, however, seemed at ease, gently wiping away her drool and smiling, “Mother, rest well. You will recover soon.”

Zhang San stood silently, inhaling the cold, metallic scent of power shifting hands, a sharp pain suddenly piercing his head. He endured it quietly.

It was his first headache.

The Empress Dowager’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and within a month, she passed away.

The Emperor, as expected, installed a new Empress.

The new Empress was young and beautiful, adorned with jewels, her nails painted red as she lightly pinched Zhang San’s cheek, “Dan, I am your mother now.”

Zhang San subtly moved his head to avoid her hand, “Mother.”

He had been in the palace long enough to understand many things.

For instance, this new Empress had been poisoned by the former Empress Dowager and could never bear children.

The new Empress, no doubt, played a role in the former Empress Dowager’s stroke and death.

And, she hated him. Yet, she needed to control him. Once the Emperor was gone, she would become the new ruler.

He wasn’t truly a child. But as a regular middle school student, his cunning might not even compare to the children raised in the palace.

Previously controlled by the Empress Dowager, now by the new Empress, he couldn’t outmaneuver either of them.

But that concubine, the protagonist of the novel, the Devil’s Favorite Concubine, his only companion, where was she?

Zhang San tried to bring the new Empress to the SOS flower bed to observe her reaction. But her gaze passed over the flowers without a hint of recognition.

She was busy consolidating her family’s power to control the court and the harem.

Zhang San knew his future influence as Emperor was being steadily eroded. But he was powerless—his birth mother had long died, and the Emperor showed no extra favor towards him.

His headaches became more frequent.

Where was she? When would she appear?

Could he wait for her?

That night, Yu Wanyin excitedly found Xiahou Dan and told him about the flower bed.

Xiahou Dan paused, “Could it have been planted by Xie Yong’er?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Yu Wanyin replied. “But everything Xie Yong’er does is written in the book. She definitely didn’t do this. Besides, she believes she’s the only transmigrator and wouldn’t think of looking for others. I think it’s someone else, like us, who accidentally transmigrated here.”

Xiahou Dan smiled indifferently, “But we’ve been here for so long. If there were someone strange, we would have noticed by now.”

“Maybe they’re trying hard to hide? He or she doesn’t know who to trust and had to resort to this method for help… No, I need to find out who planted those flowers.”

Xiahou Dan smiled, “It’s probably just a coincidence. You see ‘SOS,’ but maybe they just planted a ‘Double Dragon Playing with a Pearl.'”

“I know, but what if? What if someone is waiting for us to save them? It must be so scary to be alone in this world.”

Xiahou Dan quietly watched her.

Yu Wanyin laughed, “Don’t look at me like that. Use your imagination. If we find a third person, we can play cards together. Do you think they’re a man or a woman? Do you think they like hot pot?”

A year after the new Empress was installed, Zhang San reached the age to start studying in the study room.

In this world, the study room was usually where all the princes studied together. But when Zhang San began, he found the room empty except for him in the center, with the tutors surrounding him.

He knew this was the Empress’s doing, isolating the Crown Prince from the start.

Zhang San didn’t believe in fate.

Even if he had no real skills, he held onto the modern superiority complex, unwilling to yield easily. He would do his best to improve his situation until he found his companion.

Zhang San dutifully attended his lessons for a few days. When the Emperor and Empress checked his progress, he shyly said, “Father, Mother, it’s so lonely to sit alone every day. Could you allow me a companion?”

He wanted to make friends, to build his own influence.

The Emperor looked at the Empress, who touched Zhang San’s head and smiled, “Let Bo’er accompany you.”

Xiahou Bo, a few years older, was a handsome and refined illegitimate son. Only when he bowed to Zhang San did his eyes reveal a barely concealed cold hatred.

The tutor had Xiahou Bo sit opposite the Crown Prince.

During the long lecture, Zhang San’s eyelids grew heavier, and just as he was about to nod off, a sharp “smack” echoed in his ears.

It felt like he was back in middle school math class, jolted awake in terror.

“Smack,” another sound. The tutor’s ruler rose high and struck Xiahou Bo’s hand, “No daydreaming!”

Xiahou Bo hadn’t been daydreaming.

The tutor was merely making him take the punishment meant for the Crown Prince.

The lecture resumed, and Xiahou Bo curled his swollen hand, glaring at Zhang San with lips pressed into a thin line.

After class, Zhang San asked the eunuch following him, “An Xian, what’s the story with Xiahou Bo? Don’t think about hiding it from me; I’ll find out eventually.”

An Xian, trembling, gave a vague explanation, but Zhang San understood: in the long history of palace intrigues, his deceased mother had caused the death of Xiahou Bo’s mother.

However, with all the players dead, the palace full of deception, who could say what was real or not?

One thing Zhang San knew for sure: Xiahou Bo hated him.

And the Empress was keen to deepen that hatred.

From that day on, the tutors’ punishments for Xiahou Bo grew harsher. Soon they replaced rulers with willow switches.

Even the eunuchs and servants found creative ways to humiliate him. Whenever Xiahou Bo swallowed the dirty water without expression, they looked at Zhang San expectantly, as if awaiting a reward.

It’s said the Empress instructed them: “If the Crown Prince’s headache flares up, someone beside him must suffer more.”

Zhang San tried several times to plead for leniency, but by then, the Emperor was gradually relinquishing control, leaving everything to the Empress.

The Empress didn’t remove Xiahou Bo but brought in more neglected illegitimate princes.

As expected, every classmate became a pawn in the Empress’s game to please the Crown Prince. To everyone, Zhang San was tightly bound to the Empress, like a true mother and son.

Sometimes Zhang San thought, isolating the Crown Prince could be done in many ways, but the Empress chose the most extreme. Perhaps after her forced abortion, she hated all the princes.

That woman hadn’t expected the toxic environment of the study room to breed someone who could surpass her.

The bruises and scars on Xiahou Bo’s body multiplied daily, yet his gaze towards Zhang San became more restrained. His face no longer showed hatred; he looked gentle and polite. He was so likable that all the mistreated princes rallied around him.

Zhang San didn’t believe in fate.

He tried standing up for his classmates during punishments, arguing logically. The old tutors bowed in fear, promising to stop, only to return the next day with even harsher punishments. His protests became mere performance under the scornful eyes of the other princes.

He tried bringing food for all his classmates, hoping to ease tensions. He personally selected the meals and snacks, watched them packed into lunch boxes, and brought them to the study room. But the classmates opened the boxes to find mere scraps.

An irate prince couldn’t take it anymore and smashed the box, “The Crown Prince is so generous!”

“Third Brother,” Xiahou Bo calmed him, then politely said, “Thank you, Crown Prince.”

Zhang San: “I didn’t—this isn’t—someone!”

The eunuch holding the box knelt, crying. Zhang San scolded him while the princes looked on with mocking smiles, watching his self-directed drama.

Zhang San, at a loss, felt a splitting headache and kicked the eunuch, “Who ordered you? Speak!”

“Spare me, Your Highness…”

Xiahou Bo, at this moment, gently said, “This eunuch doesn’t deserve death. Please, Crown Prince, be merciful.” Then he eagerly ate the scraps.

Zhang San stood there, feeling a chill.

In that brief moment, he saw the exchange of glances between the eunuch and Xiahou Bo.

While he was naively trying to “ease tensions,” Xiahou Bo had already mastered manipulation and bribery.

He also tried feigning illness for half a month, avoiding the study room.

The Empress, who usually ignored him, appeared with a concerned face, sitting by his bed, “Dan, the Emperor heard you’re neglecting your studies and bullying your classmates. He’s angry. You should go apologize.”

Zhang San, liver aching with anger, couldn’t maintain his innocent facade, glaring coldly, “Who’s bullying who? You know better than anyone.”

The Empress feigned ignorance, “Who? Tell me, and I’ll handle it.”

Zhang San: “…”

Zhang San wrote a long letter and handed it to the Emperor personally.

He mustered all his intelligence, first praising his father’s benevolence and then detailing his and his brothers’ experiences, never once claiming to be wronged, only expressing his concern for his father and fear that he might be deceived by traitors.

He didn’t receive a response from the Emperor.

Instead, the Empress Dowager, with a mocking smile, appeared before him: “Crown Prince, I have always treated you as my own, yet you have such deep misunderstandings about me. It truly breaks my heart.”

Zhang San: “My father—”

The Empress Dowager sneered, “Do you think your father still controls the court and harem? Let me tell you, the person I hate most in my life is him.”

Zhang San’s heart skipped a beat.

If she was willing to say such things, did it mean she intended to kill him?

Her long nails trailed across his face, pressing hard enough to draw blood. “If you are not willing to be of one heart with me, there are other princes who are.”

At that moment, Zhang San realized something crucial.

In this story, it didn’t matter who he was or what kind of person he was.

With a thud, Zhang San knelt before the Empress Dowager and kowtowed, “It is my fault, Mother. I am willing to reflect on my mistakes.”

While he was reflecting on his mistakes, the ironwort flowers in the garden bloomed again, forming the SOS shape.

Zhang San repeatedly checked the soil around the flower bed, each time returning disappointed. Until one day, he noticed the soil had been disturbed.

Without even grabbing a shovel, he knelt and dug with his bare hands, eventually unearthing a buried box.

He pried it open with his dirty nails. The note he had left inside was gone, replaced by an oddly shaped leaf.

Over the following days, Zhang San searched tree by tree, finally finding the same kind of leaf in a remote corner of the palace.

He carefully felt along the tree trunk and eventually found a small carved word: “Chou” (meaning “ugly” or “unlucky”).

At the ugly hour (1-3 AM), Zhang San snuck out past the sleeping palace attendants, heading to the tree.

A frail young maid stood there holding a lantern, her face pale as she looked at him.

Zhang San held his breath.

He ran up to her, “Did you get my note?”

The maid’s hand shook, dropping the lantern. She knelt abruptly, “Spare me, Your Highness, I didn’t know it was yours!”

Seeing her reaction, Zhang San’s heart sank.

Still unwilling to give up, he tentatively said, “Hello?”

The maid looked confused and terrified.

Zhang San’s blood ran cold, “If you didn’t recognize the flower shape, why did you dig?”

“The servant girl saw a figure often wandering nearby and was curious about the strange flower shape,” she stammered, “so I dug a little…”

Tears filled her eyes, “The note’s writing was strange, and I thought it was from an illiterate guard. I deserve to die!”

Zhang San laughed bitterly, “Stop acting. Are you afraid I’ll harm you? Trust me, we are the same kind.”

The maid looked bewildered and frightened.

“I have only you in this world.” Zhang San stepped closer, but she backed away.

He stopped, “You really aren’t?”

“Not…what?”

Zhang San suddenly smiled gently and lightly touched her face, “Never mind. Now you know my secret.”

The maid looked confused and bashful.

Zhang San’s hand slowly moved to her slender neck.

Before dawn, he submerged her in the pond.

She was the first person he killed.

Yu Wanyin asked trustworthy palace servants about the ironwort flowers but no one knew who had planted them.

“They said no one has touched that part of the garden for years.” Yu Wanyin was disappointed.

Xiahou Dan shrugged, “See, I told you, it’s just your imagination.”

“But from above, it really looks like an SOS…”

Xiahou Dan pointed out, “That brings a new problem. The flowers are in full bloom and will be for a while. If Xie Yong’er passes by and sees it as an SOS, what do you think she’ll do?”

Yu Wanyin covered her mouth in sudden realization, “She’ll also suspect there’s another transmigrator.”

“And one day she might suspect us,” Xiahou Dan continued.

Yu Wanyin grew anxious, “We need to remove those flowers. Can we find an excuse to pull them out?”

“Excuse? I’m the Emperor. If I want to renovate the garden, I don’t need an excuse.”

That afternoon, after confirming Xie Yong’er hadn’t left her quarters, Xiahou Dan ordered the flowers to be removed.

The ironwort flowers were uprooted one by one. Xiahou Dan sat in a pavilion, watching from a distance, his expression indifferent.

Turning, he saw Yu Wanyin looking glum.

Xiahou Dan chuckled, “What’s wrong?”

Yu Wanyin felt embarrassed, “Maybe I’m just overthinking, but if someone did plant those flowers as an SOS, hoping for help, and now they’re being pulled out without any response… Should we leave a note or something?”

Xiahou Dan: “…”

He looked at her gently, “It’s too risky with Xie Yong’er around.”

“Alright,” Yu Wanyin conceded.