Whoever can strike me hard will be rewarded handsomely.

This was at Bian Yushu's villa. Jiang Jibai didn't have any ointment with him, so Qin Ji had to put on airs as "Young Master Bian" and, under the guise of using it on "Little Zhao Bian," have a servant bring some over.

While enjoying the poison master's attentive application of medicine, Qin Ji thought to himself that the poison master was a cricket.

You carry the ruler around like a pendant, but why don't you know to put the medicine in your pocket?

One detail reveals the true nature of the toxic master.

There were three other people in Yunqi Courtyard who knew his identity and were waiting. Qin Ji, mindful of the national dignity, gritted his teeth and got up as soon as Jiang Jibai finished applying the medicine, and cleaned himself up neatly.

She not only smoothed out the wrinkles on her clothes, but also washed her face, repeatedly confirming with Jiang Jibai that no one would be able to tell she had been crying.

Even when he got up and took a few steps, his gait was steady and everything seemed normal, leaving no trace of anything amiss.

Jiang Jibai was amazed by the unexpected burden his young disciple had brought.

He knew what he was doing. Bian Feibai's old injuries hadn't healed, and even though he was only punished with about thirty strokes this time, his wounds were still a mess, and it wouldn't be easy for him.

"It's alright to rest for a little longer. Just say it's a conversation between you and me, master and disciple. It won't make you lose face in front of them."

It was getting late, and curfew was approaching. Qin Ji didn't have much time to linger at the villa, but he still appreciated Jiang Jibai's concern.

Qin Ji leaned close to Jiang Jibai's ear and whispered, "If the teacher feels sorry for me, why not waive my punishment for the next few days?"

They really know how to take advantage of a situation; they've got some pretty good ideas.

Jiang Jibai reached out to strike behind him, but Qin Ji, anticipating this, dodged in a flash. Despite his pale face from the pain, he still raised his eyebrows triumphantly at Jiang Jibai.

Soon, as if remembering something, he quickly rubbed his face to restore its color.

With that interruption, Jiang Jibai stopped mentioning that he should go to the couch to rest.

The young disciple had clearly made up his mind and would not be swayed by a few words.

"come over."

Qin Ji felt a little intimidated when he heard those two words and approached hesitantly.

Jiang Jibai pulled him close, startling Qin Ji so much that his hair stood on end in respect. In return, Jiang Jibai gently rubbed Qin Ji's wound with a hand, the touch as gentle as a silent comfort.

"You cried your eyes out in front of your teacher, the roof could have been blown off. You wiped your face, so tough, don't you feel any pain?"

He had walked alone all this way, facing many difficulties and hardships. If he hadn't been strong and forced himself to abandon his weakness and stand up straight, he might be sitting on the dragon throne now, and there wouldn't be such a great situation today.

He is the supreme ruler, high above all others, and is to be looked up to and worshipped by people.

His strength was meant to support the crumbling empire, and his wisdom to protect his millions of subjects.

He must be invincible.

But beneath its copper skin and iron bones lies flesh and blood; it too feels tired and can feel pain.

A glimmer of light in Qin Ji's eyes seemed to be touched, spreading out in ripples.

At that moment, he was absolutely certain that what he craved was never pain, but a branch to perch on, a harbor where he could rest.

But can care and shelter alone satisfy him?

No.

He was the ruler of a country, not some emotional beggar.

The phoenix will not perch on anything but the parasol tree, and the flying dragon will not stay in a shallow bay.

His teacher must be strong, wise, able to guide him when he is confused, and kind to him.

One must have no lust for power and pose no threat.

How can I allow others to sleep soundly beside my bed?

Qin Ji sized up the poison master before him, a smile spreading across his lips.

They were destined to be master and disciple.

Qin Ji leaned closer, seizing the opportunity, "The clothes I just straightened are wrinkled again by you. You need to fix them for me!"

Jiang Jibai casually slapped him across the face.

Now Qin Ji had nowhere to hide, and he bared his teeth in dissatisfaction.

Jiang Jibai said indifferently, "It's just a wrinkle, you can smooth it out with a few pats."

Qin Ji: "..."

Poison Master!

Sooner or later, I will snap your unsteady branch and smash your leaky harbor!

...

When the two of them entered the room with three wounded soldiers, all three pairs of eyes turned to look at them.

The master took a long time to change clothes, was he constipated?

Remembering that he had refused his master's offer to take him as a disciple, and that his master not only did not hold it against him, but was also willing to teach him about mechanical arts, Bian Yushu was extremely grateful.

He secretly resolved that once he returned home, he would definitely ask his grandmother if she had any folk remedies for constipation.

Shang Jingming didn't think much of it; he assumed that Jiang Daru and His Majesty had found an excuse to have a private talk.

Perhaps it's about the Five Cities Garrison, or perhaps it's something else entirely; it's not something an outsider like him can easily speculate about.

Yes, he was the only outsider in the room.

Shen Jiangliu silently observed the emperor's face.

His Majesty's appearance remains unchanged, his demeanor is impeccable, everything is perfect, he must not have given anything...

Before he could finish conjuring up his self-deceiving thoughts, Shen Jiangliu's breath hitched when his gaze inadvertently fell on the "ornament" on Jiang Jibai's belt.

The ruler was too heavy to hang as a decoration, so the teacher changed its location, hahaha.

Shen Jiangliu withdrew his gaze expressionlessly.

He was just a lowly sixth-rank official; his good advice couldn't persuade his teacher, and His Majesty refused to accept his advice.

There's nothing I can do about it.

Everyone in the room had their own thoughts.

The wounded have been visited, and the young disciples have been influenced.

Jiang Jibai was preoccupied with the river map and did not intend to stay long.

Shen Jiangliu couldn't wait to leave and offered to drape a cloak over his teacher.

Qin Ji had to return to the palace soon, so he didn't try to persuade them to stay for a meal. He gritted his teeth and saw them to the door, then turned back with great difficulty.

As soon as he pushed open the door, Qin Ji's gaze, sharp as a sword, shot down on Bian Yushu, who was wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon.

You brat, you can't even make up a coherent story, and you've earned me sixty extra strokes of the cane for no reason!

Bian Yushu thought of what had happened before and assumed that His Majesty was displeased with his disobedience. His eyes reddened, and he felt both scared and aggrieved.

Under His Majesty's gaze, he shakily got up, kowtowed on the bed, and then, without waiting for Qin Ji to call him, shrank back into the quilt, leaving only his wet, doe-like eyes showing.

He looked at Qin Ji with teary eyes.

He looked so pitiful… Qin Ji tapped his fingers on the table. “Come here.”

Upon uttering those two words, Qin Ji's expression became somewhat subtle.

It definitely feels better to say those two words yourself.

Upon receiving the instruction, Bian Yushu shuddered and shrank back even further.

Two seconds later, he finally didn't have the guts to go against His Majesty. He quietly got out of bed, moved to the table, and stammered, tearfully protesting, "Master Jiang is my grandmaster, he can't be my teacher."

Qin Ji pushed forward the teacup he had filled halfway with water, saying, "Fill it up."

Bian Yushu did as instructed, not understanding why.

Wisps of steam rose, stinging Bian Yushu's watery eyes. He suppressed his grievances and obediently picked up the teacup, offering it to His Majesty.

"Kneel down."