This Official Is So Weak

In the fifteenth year of the Chenghua dynasty, the usurper Ning Chen finally died. 

He was a top scorer in the imperial examination that the previous emperor had respected. He had entered office at a young age, and his power extended through all of society. He was the youngest left minister since the founding of the dynasty.

In the end, he fell to the ground before the throne room, a thousand arrows piercing his heart. 

The dazzling sun above him sent down a wave of heat, blurring the pool of red on the ground. The emperor of the Chenghua dynasty, Li Wuting, stood before the palace, gazing down on him as if he were nothing more than an ant.

The grand court eunuch De Quan announced in a reedy voice:

“The guilty official Ning Chen formed a party for his personal interest, conspired to murder loyal officials, and betrayed his lord and country by colluding with enemies at the border… Today, he plotted to revolt. He was executed on the spot, as ordered.”

Once the charge landed, the degenerate yet tremendous power of Ning Chen’s party finally fell, as if a decayed tree had toppled. 

Li Wuting turned and walked into the palace hall. 

The grand eunuch’s voice resounded before the palace, as dimly as in a dream. 

***

It was night. 

A streak of lightning coursed through the sky, as bright as snow. 

Upon his royal bed, Li Wuting woke from a dream, abruptly sitting upright. Darkness surrounded him. He calmed himself down and pinched his forehead between his brows. 

It was as if he could still see that daylight scene before him. 

He could hear the disturbance outside the palace once more, though there was no sound of thunder. 

Li Wuting rose, draping the imperial yellow robe over his firm and tall figure. He called toward the outer hall, “De Quan.” 

“Your Majesty.” 

De Quan soon walked in. It was dark in the bedroom, and he couldn’t see the emperor’s expression. “What orders do you have, your Majesty?”

Li Wuting was silent for a moment. “Nothing. You can leave.” 

It was probably just a nightmare.

After ruling for fifteen years, he had experienced all kinds of treacherous trials. 

Li Wuting soon calmed down, and turned to return to bed.

“It’s good that nothing’s wrong.” De Quan’s garrulous voice came from behind him. “You should take care of yourself and rest well, Your Majesty. Tomorrow is your coronation.” 

Li Wuting’s footsteps paused.

His coronation had clearly been the first year of the Chenghua dynasty. 

After a long silence, the bedroom resounded with the emperor’s low voice. “...De Quan.”

“I’m here.” 

“Light the lamps.” 

The lights flickered on, and De Quan came over carefully. “Your Majesty?”

Li Wuting looked at the still-apparent tenderness of De Quan’s face, and sunk into silence. 

He had returned to fifteen years ago. 

***

The author has something to say: 

Li Wuting: …Here’s a trial I haven’t experienced. 

*This prologue seems serious, but this is actually a comedy