Chapter 1: Prologue

In the fifteenth year of Chenghua, the notorious treacherous minister, Ning Chen, finally met his end.

He was the young top scholar appointed by the late emperor, entering the political scene at a tender age and wielding immense power, becoming the youngest Prime Minister in the history of the dynasty.

In the end, he fell before the Golden Palace, pierced by ten thousand arrows.

Under the blazing sunlight above, casting a scorching heat wave, the ground was blurred, obscuring the remnants of red. The Emperor of Chenghua, Li Wuting, stood in front of the palace, his gaze towards him like that of an insignificant ant.

The chief eunuch, Dequan, recited with a sharp voice:

“Minister Ning Chen, for his conspiracies, private machinations, plotting against loyal officials, colluding with foreign enemies and betraying the nation… Today, for his treasonous acts, he shall be executed on the spot. This is the imperial decree—”

As the charges were announced, the decaying and colossal power of Ning Chen and his faction collapsed like a withered tree, crashing down.

Li Wuting turned and walked toward the inner hall.

The resonating voice of Chief Eunuch Dequan echoed in front of the palace, as if it were a dream.

…

It was night.

A bright bolt of lightning suddenly tore through the darkness—

On the dragon throne, Li Wuting woke up abruptly from his dream, sitting up in a start. The surroundings were dim, and he collected himself, raising his hand to pinch his brow.

Before his eyes, it seemed as if it was still the scene from broad daylight.

Despite hearing movements outside the palace, not a single sound of thunder could be heard.

Li Wuting got up, his tall and sturdy figure enveloped by a bright yellow robe. He called out from the palace, “Dequan.”

“Your Majesty.”

Dequan quickly entered, the sleeping chamber shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to discern the person’s expression and countenance. “What orders do you have, Your Majesty?”

Li Wuting remained silent for a moment, “It’s nothing. You may leave.”

Perhaps it was just a nightmare.

But in his fifteen years on the throne, he had experienced all sorts of strange and turbulent storms.

Li Wuting quickly regained his composure and turned back to his bed.

“It’s good that there’s nothing.” Dequan’s chattering voice sounded from behind, “Your Majesty, please rest well. Tomorrow is the grand ceremony of your ascension to the throne.”

Li Wuting paused in his footsteps.

The grand ceremony of ascension to the throne clearly belonged to the first year of Chenghua.

After a long silence, the low, hoarse voice of the emperor resonated in the sleeping chamber, “…Dequan.”

“I’m here, Your Majesty.”

“Light the lamp.”

The lamp was lit, and Dequan approached with a beaming face, “Your Majesty?”

Li Wuting stared at Dequan’s face, still youthful and tender, without any expression, and fell into silence.

He had returned to fifteen years ago.

Author’s note:

Li Wuting: …He truly hasn’t experienced this.

*A seemingly serious prelude that is actually a comedic piece.