“It’s good that nothing’s wrong.” Brian Clark’s rambling voice sounded from behind. “Your Majesty should get some good rest. Tomorrow is the enthronement ceremony.”

　　William Thompson paused in his steps.

　　The enthronement ceremony—this was clearly the first year of Chenghua.

　　After a long silence, a low, hoarse imperial voice echoed in the bedchamber. “…Brian Clark.”

　　“Your servant is here.”

　　“Light the lamps.”

　　The lights came on. Brian Clark shuffled over with a fawning face. “Your Majesty?”

　　William Thompson looked expressionlessly at Brian Clark’s still-young face and fell silent.

　　He had returned to fifteen years ago.

　　Author’s note:

　　William Thompson: …He really hasn’t experienced this before.

　　*A seemingly serious prologue, but actually a silly story

　　【Thirty Merits and Fame】

Chapter 2: A Little White Flower

　　“Mr. Harris!”

　　“Quick, call someone! Mr. Harris has fainted!”

　　……

　　A wave of dizziness hit, and faint commotion could be heard nearby.

　　Edward Harris’s memory was still stuck on the previous second—he had stepped out of the teaching building, missed a step on the stairs, and in the next moment, felt as if someone was dragging him along the ground, like a corpse.

　　Cough! He choked hard and suddenly opened his eyes.

　　After the blinding white light faded, what came into view was a stretch of stone steps and red walls. Ahead, a group of people in court robes were grandly passing through the Meridian Gate, just like in a historical drama.

　　And he was sitting on an open space not far from the procession.

　　He looked down and reached out his hand.

　　What he saw was a crimson robe, and the exposed wrist was pale and slender.

　　Edward Harris turned his wrist over and over.

　　Did he die from the fall?

　　As he was thinking this, a man in a white robe hurried over from a distance. “Mr. Harris!”

　　Edward Harris looked up and sized him up. “White Impermanence?”

　　The imperial physician froze in his tracks. “...”

　　Suddenly, a voice came from the side. “Did you hit your head or something?”

　　Edward Harris turned his head and finally noticed another person standing nearby, dressed in a light crimson court robe, looking to be in his early twenties. He was grimacing as he rubbed his knee, glaring at him with clear annoyance.

　　Two young eunuchs tried to smooth things over with forced smiles. “Mr. Grant, Mr. Harris really did take quite a hit.”

　　Jason Grant glanced at Edward Harris. “Nothing good ever happens when I run into you.”

　　Edward Harris looked over everyone in front of him one by one.

　　The pain in his body felt so real, and the environment around him was vivid and complete. His mind buzzed for a few moments before he was finally forced to admit a fact:

　　He wasn’t dead—he had transmigrated.

　　But he didn’t know which dynasty this was, or who he was.

　　Edward Harris rubbed his head and decided to get his bearings first. “My mind’s a bit foggy right now. Where am I, and what happened?”

　　The scene instantly fell silent.

　　The young eunuch looked terrified, and the imperial physician hurriedly grabbed his wrist, closed his eyes, and moved his lips, barely making out a few words: It’s over, it’s over, it’s all over…

　　Jason Grant opened and closed his mouth, stared at Edward Harris for a long time, and finally couldn’t help but limp closer and ask, “Did you really hit your head that badly?”

　　Edward Harris stared at him, his face deathly pale.

　　Jason Grant took a deep breath and said, “Right now is His Majesty’s enthronement ceremony, remember? We were coming back from the outskirts, reached the Meridian Gate, and you, blind and lame, didn’t watch your step and fell flat on your face. You even dragged me down with you and made me hurt my leg too. You forgot all that?”

　　Edward Harris, “...”

　　In just sixty-two words, who knows how much personal feeling was packed in.

　　He couldn’t help but ask, “We don’t get along, do we?”

　　Jason Grant nodded. “Not at all.”

　　Edward Harris sighed. Too bad he didn’t remember a thing now, and had no idea what grudges or feuds he was carrying.

　　All he knew was that he was a court official.

　　Although he wasn’t sure which dynasty it was, judging by the cloud-and-wild-goose crimson robe and the silver peony belt, he was probably a fourth- or fifth-rank official.

　　While he was lost in thought, the imperial physician withdrew his hand and said:

　　“Sir, your body is frail, and this fall was quite serious. Your life isn’t in danger, but there’s blood stasis in your skull, which may affect your mind, especially memory and cognition…”

　　Edward Harris waved his hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

　　He thanked the imperial physician, whose face clearly read “How is this not a big deal?”, and asked the young eunuch, “If we go now, we should still make it to the enthronement ceremony, right?”

　　The young eunuch replied, “Yes, sir.”

　　Jason Grant’s leg was treated as well. He got up and said irritably, “As long as you don’t fall again.”

　　One had a head injury, the other a leg injury.

　　Led by the young eunuch, they limped along the long corridor toward the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

　　Edward Harris’s head ached and his feet hurt. He felt this body was truly in bad shape.

　　After walking for a while, the sound of ceremonial music finally drifted over from afar.

　　Ahead, he could already see the dense crowd of officials and the grand, imposing palace steps.

　　As they neared the end of the procession, he suddenly remembered an important question.

　　Edward Harris turned to Jason Grant and asked, “By the way, my name is…”

　　Jason Grant, “Ning Chen.”

　　What? Treacherous official, your whole family’s treacherous.

　　Edward Harris warned, “Watch your mouth, or I’ll accuse you of slandering a court official.”

　　Jason Grant was incredulous. “What are you playing at!?”

　　“...”

　　The two stared at each other.

　　After a moment, Edward Harris slowly closed his eyes, touched his chest, and felt his mind shatter: