Owen Reed let out a disappointed sigh and hurried a few steps forward, just as the emperor’s party ahead also reached the corner. Owen Reed immediately spotted his father, grinning from ear to ear, following beside the emperor with a beaming face.

Owen Reed quietly walked over and stood in the shadow behind General Reed. As soon as he settled, he saw the emperor ahead suddenly stop, stretch out a hand pale to the point of translucence from within his wide sleeves, and pick a brilliantly blooming flower from the lush greenery.

“This flower is beautiful,” the emperor praised, then lifted the flower to his nose for a gentle sniff. The scent must have pleased him, for he suddenly broke into a radiant smile.

The emperor was tall and slender, his body frail with illness. Yet when he smiled, it was as if a hundred flowers bloomed, brimming with vibrant, vigorous life. Hiding in the shadows, Owen Reed looked up and, at first glance, caught the smile at the emperor’s lips, only then realizing that this sickly emperor actually had such striking, moonlike good looks.

Owen Reed watched for a while, frowning absentmindedly.

The emperor who had scolded him so harshly in front of all the officials—turns out he hasn’t even grown all his hair yet?

*

At noon, the bamboo and silk instruments began to play, and the palace banquet commenced.

Ethan Cooper sat toward the back, gazing dazedly at the dishes on the table.

Seated beside him, Owen Reed picked out the most visually appealing imperial dishes to eat. “Your poem today was quite good.”

“So you know…” Ethan Cooper rubbed his brow. “I really didn’t expect that, even facing the emperor, I’d resort to trickery.”

Owen Reed gave a gentlemanly smile, his canines glinting with a hint of menace. “The emperor is quite the strategist.”

Ethan Cooper frowned slightly. “How can you speak of the emperor like that?”

Owen Reed raised an eyebrow, deliberately turned his head to glance at his unusually odd friend today, then squinted and looked off into the distance toward the emperor.

Brian Clark sat in the seat of honor. Today, he inevitably drank some wine. Ancient wine wasn’t very strong, but since coming here, he’d rarely had any. After a few cups, he ordered water to be added to the wine jug.

Warmth spread from his chest to his limbs. Brian Clark exhaled, feeling his face flush with heat.

He couldn’t drink any more. Brian Clark was well aware of just how delicate and frail this body was. He stopped drinking wine and switched to hot tea to sober up.

Every move the emperor made was watched. The officials who often saw him were used to it, but the young ones seeing the emperor for the first time kept sneaking glances out of the corners of their eyes.

The boldest gaze belonged to Owen Reed.

Getting flushed from just a little wine—are you even a man?

Even such an emperor could make Ethan Cooper waver. Did something happen in the imperial garden that he hadn’t noticed?

Owen Reed tapped his wine cup, deep in thought.

The palace banquet didn’t last long. Even after it ended, the sky was only just beginning to darken. Samuel Grant, along with many eunuchs, escorted the ministers out one by one. When everyone had left, he pulled Chief Guard Foster aside and secretly gave him an order.

After bathing, Brian Clark, seeing it was still early, sat at his desk and opened “Han Feizi.”

Compared to a proper ancient man, Brian Clark had a major flaw: his thinking came from the modern era, and such transcendent ideas didn’t fit the current environment.

He had to distinguish what was beneficial and what, if brought into this world, would cause disaster. He’d never read these ancient books before, but since arriving here, he had to read them day and night—staying up late, squeezing in time, using the body’s memories to understand and master them. The original emperor hadn’t done well, so he had to unravel the art of kingship from the books himself.

There’s a modern saying: “If you time-travel to the Qing dynasty and don’t rebel, you’ll end up with a chrysanthemum and a power drill.” Even though the Great Heng dynasty had never appeared in his memory, and even though this world existed within a novel, the books and historical traces here were almost identical to those in his memory. Brian Clark couldn’t treat this country as a joke.

As the protagonist of this world, both Adam Brooks and Owen Reed possessed formidable talents for governing a nation.

To be honest, Brian Clark rather envied them.

Though he didn’t understand why they loved each other, Brian Clark respected them. If he could live a little longer, he might even grant them marriage to win them over.

Unfortunately, his fate had long been booked by the King of Hell. Now, Brian Clark could only wait for his life to end, perhaps soon unable to even get out of bed.

Brian Clark let out a deep sigh.

Samuel Grant looked up and asked, “Your Majesty, are you tired?”

Brian Clark shook his head. “I was just thinking—death comes to all. No matter how much one prepares, even I feel uneasy when facing it.”

Samuel Grant was startled, his legs giving way as he knelt to the ground. Brian Clark couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you afraid of? I was just sighing.”

Samuel Grant, still shaken, said, “Your Majesty, please don’t say such things to scare your humble servant. My heart nearly jumped out.”

Brian Clark shook his head helplessly, no longer in the mood to read. He put down the book. The attendants in the bedchamber had all withdrawn. Unaware, Brian Clark walked to the bedroom, lifted the bed curtains—and in the next second, his eyes flew wide open.