Edward Harris's colleagues all raised their wine cups and enthusiastically toasted him: "We heard that Mr. Harris will be serving before His Majesty starting tomorrow. Truly the most favored man at court!"

Edward Harris: ? Who's been tattling again.

"Haha, my lord, don't pretend you don't know! The imperial edict was delivered to the Hanlin Academy this afternoon—we all know about it."

Edward Harris took a sip of wine and nearly choked: So it was His Majesty!

The toasts from the courtiers came one round after another.

Holding his wine cup, Edward Harris drank until his whole body felt hot. Just as he was pondering how to escape, a familiar mocking voice sounded in front of him, "Heh, retiring to the countryside?"

"..." He looked up abruptly!

Jason Grant stood before him, wine cup in hand, face full of disdain.

His shield had arrived! Edward Harris instantly grabbed onto this lifeline, pulled him down, and firmly placed him in front of his own seat. "What, you have something to discuss with me?"

Jason Grant was baffled. "What?"

Edward Harris frowned. "A hidden illness?"

"..." The colleagues who had come to toast exchanged awkward glances and quietly dispersed.

Jason Grant realized what was happening and slammed the table, springing up. "You son of a—"

Edward Harris hurriedly poured him a cup of wine and stuffed a walnut into his hand. "Calm down, calm down."

"Shameless!" Jason Grant cursed, then shot him a glare. "Hypocrite."

Edward Harris explained, "I really did request to retire to the countryside, but His Majesty insisted on keeping me in the imperial study."

He spoke with genuine sincerity, but even he felt a bit shameless after saying it. Glancing over, he saw Jason Grant's sleeve bulge as his fist clenched.

"......"

Edward Harris sighed. "Serving the emperor is like living with a tiger."

The dagger-like gaze softened a little.

He swirled his wine cup in melancholy. "I wonder how long I can keep muddling through."

The bulging sleeve gradually deflated.

Jason Grant considered his situation. "That's true."

Edward Harris took a gloomy sip of wine: This kid is pretty easy to fool.

Taking advantage of the topic shift, he glanced at the empty seat above. "Why hasn't His Majesty returned yet?"

Jason Grant gave him a strange look. "You don't remember?"

Edward Harris blinked. "What?"

Jason Grant leaned in and whispered, "His Majesty should be at Changning Palace. His birth mother—the Virtuous Consort—lived there when she was alive."

...

The banquet was drawing to a close.

Edward Harris had heard a stomachful of gossip and been plied with a stomachful of wine. The heat and alcohol rose from his belly, making his vision blur and his ears burn.

He got up and left the palace banquet.

Outside the hall where the banquet was held, there was a lake, hidden behind a cluster of shadowy trees, cool and tranquil.

Edward Harris sat on a rock not far from the shore, letting the cool breeze dissipate his heat.

He reached out and loosened his collar, the flush spreading from his neck to his cheeks and ears, the shimmering lake light reflected in his eyes.

After sitting for a while, he vaguely heard Brian Clark's voice coming from the other end of the path, "Your Majesty, it's chilly at night, please put on an extra layer."

There was no response in the quiet night.

Your Majesty? Edward Harris stood up groggily.

The grass at his feet rustled softly.

Immediately, Brian Clark's alert shout came from that direction, "Who's over there!?"

Two rows of bright palace lanterns instantly lit up the path by the lake. Facing the light, Edward Harris's flushed face and bright eyes suddenly came into everyone's view—

The cold, desolate atmosphere was abruptly shattered.

Brian Clark exclaimed in surprise, "Mr. Harris?"

Edward Harris stood there in a daze, not responding.

He saw William Thompson standing in the night in just a single layer of clothing, pursed his lips, and blurted out, "Your Majesty, would you like to put on a coat?"

William Thompson, "..."

Edward Harris's hair was disheveled, some strands slipping into his open collar, his whole body radiating the heat of wine.

At the sight of him, William Thompson recalled the report from the Embroidered Uniform Guard:

A reincarnated starving ghost, lacking in male virtue.

Seeing him standing there so improperly, Brian Clark was already scared out of his wits and hurriedly called out, "Oh my, Mr. Harris is drunk—why aren't you kneeling before His Majesty!"

Edward Harris's mind was muddled, but he could still understand the words. He took a few unsteady steps toward William Thompson.

Watching nervously, Brian Clark gripped his horsetail whisk tightly, afraid he might offend the emperor.

Edward Harris stopped in front of William Thompson and gave a wobbly bow. "This humble official greets Your Majesty."

William Thompson looked down at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting some air."

"This is not where you should be," William Thompson's expression revealed nothing. "Go back."

"Oh." Edward Harris blinked, then slowly added, "Your servant takes his leave."

With that, he turned to go.

The crimson hem of his robe fluttered in the wind, a silver flowered belt cinched his slender waist.

William Thompson glanced at him, then looked away, his tone calm. "Return to the Hall of Mental Cultivation."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The two rows of palace lanterns turned a corner.

The group had just taken a few steps when suddenly, from the lakeside not far behind, came a loud splash.

A splash? William Thompson turned his head.

He saw that the person who had just staggered away now had his upper body plunged into the water, sliding down the lakeshore with a series of "glug glug" sounds.

"......"

Brian Clark was shocked. "Mr. Harris!"