Volume One: The Overseer and the Disciple Chapter Fourteen: The Error of Prejudice

Evening, Inner City of Beijing, Renshou Lane.

Huang Ming, finally “home,” gazed at the layered courtyards and the many rooms before him, as well as the dozens of servants and house slaves bowing in greeting. Inwardly, he still felt a touch of astonishment.

He recalled, in his previous life, idly browsing a certain social site and stumbling upon the question: “What is it like to own a house in Beijing?”

The answers were either arrogant boasts or backhanded humblebrags, which left Huang Ming, who grew up and worked in a small city, unable to join the conversation.

But now, he felt he could write an answer himself—Thanks for the invite. I’m in the Second Ring, just got off the carriage. My family estate could be pieced together from seven or eight traditional courtyards. I have a private courtyard to myself, with servants attending to me…

All of this was true, precisely what Huang Ming was now experiencing.

Upon seeing their young master finally return after more than a day, the dozens of servants and stewards of the Huang household rushed out to pay their respects, especially the chief steward, Huang Zhong, who was particularly attentive.

“Young master, where have you been these past two days? I went to report your disappearance to the Shuntian Prefecture, but they just brushed me off. Had you not come home soon, I would have had no choice but to disturb the master at the palace.

“Did you suffer any hardship outside these two days? Are you hungry? Shall we prepare some food for you?”

Touched by their concern, Huang Ming’s heart warmed, but he waved his hand. “It’s nothing. I just dealt with some trivial matters and stayed out for a couple of days. As you saw, the Embroidered Uniform Guard escorted me home—so naturally, everything is fine.

“I’ve already eaten. All I want now is a good night’s sleep…” As he spoke, he let out a tremendous yawn.

Seeing this, Huang Zhong dared not probe further and personally took up a lantern to lead the young master back to his own quarters to rest.

Only after returning to his room, sending everyone away, and surveying the unfamiliar yet somewhat familiar chamber—fully furnished, with various ornaments and books—did Huang Ming exhale deeply, followed by a sigh.

Only now did he finally have the leisure to ponder the strange and wondrous event that had befallen him.

Since his crossing over a day and a half ago—from being imprisoned and nearly assassinated, to becoming entangled in official intrigue, to unmasking the truth behind a prison break—one event after another had left Huang Ming exhausted and reactive, barely allowing him a moment to reflect on his transmigration and rebirth.

Now that the turmoil had subsided, beyond marveling at the magic of crossing time, Huang Ming found he had no further thoughts.

This succession of events had made him wholly accept his new identity across time and space.

Perhaps it was because, in his previous life, he was alone—unattached, unburdened—making it easier to start anew.

“Or perhaps this is all just a dream from saving someone from drowning; maybe after a sleep, I’ll wake up and be myself again…”

Having hardly slept the night before and exhausted from rushing about, the sixteen-year-old’s body could hold out no longer.

With that thought before sleep, Huang Ming soon fell into a deep slumber.

…

Huang Ming woke with a pressing need.

Blinking himself awake, he found himself still in this antique bedroom.

Clearly, sleep had not returned him to the twenty-first century. None of this was a dream. Transmigration and rebirth were now facts.

Glancing toward the window, he saw daylight had fully broken. He must have slept more than ten hours.

As Huang Ming, still a bit clumsy, struggled into the complex garments of the ancients, there came a gentle knock on the door: “Young master, are you awake?”

“Come in,” Huang Ming replied. The door opened, and a boy two years younger than himself entered, carrying a basin and draping a towel over his arm. “Let me help you wash and dress, young master.”

Huang Ming was about to decline, but the words caught in his throat—apparently, the original owner was accustomed to this.

“Yumo?” Allowing the boy to serve him, Huang Ming tentatively used the name that surfaced from lingering memories.

“Do you have any instructions, young master?”

“What time is it now?”

This boy was essentially Huang Ming’s personal attendant. However, since they hadn’t spent much time together, their bond wasn’t deep, so he hadn’t noticed anything amiss with his young master.

“It’s already past the hour of Si.”

Huang Ming counted on his fingers; the hour of Si would be nine to ten in the morning. He’d slept for fourteen or fifteen hours—no wonder he was ravenous.

“Is there anything to eat at home?”

“The kitchen has already prepared a meal for you, young master. By the way, Chief Steward Zhong said the master would return today, so please don’t go out.”

Huang Ming nodded, but felt a twinge of anxiety.

He had taken the original’s place—others could be dealt with easily enough, since they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

But his father, Huang Jin… Setting aside the intimacy of father and son, could he really deceive someone who had survived by the Emperor Jiajing’s side for decades, a trusted eunuch blessed with both the seal of the Directorate of Ceremonies and command of the Eastern Depot?

As he pondered, shouts rang out from outside: “The master has returned…”

That made Huang Ming’s body stiffen—Huang Jin had arrived sooner than expected.

“Young master, let’s go greet the master,” Yumo said softly, having just finished dressing Huang Ming. Not daring to delay, he spoke in a low voice.

Huang Ming could only assent and, with Yumo in tow, walked forward with slightly heavy steps.

Soon, they traversed three courtyards and reached the central courtyard, the largest of all.

There, Huang Jin, dressed as a wealthy gentleman, was being escorted by Huang Zhong and several others, smiling as he entered the main hall.

Spotting Huang Ming approaching, Huang Jin’s smile broadened. “Ming’er, you’re just in time. Come in and sit—let’s have a good father-and-son talk.”

But as Huang Ming neared, his steps faltered and his expression involuntarily turned odd.

This was Huang Jin?

The man who served the notoriously temperamental Emperor Jiajing, favored for decades; who ultimately held both the chief seal of the Directorate of Ceremonies and the command of the Eastern Depot—a pinnacle among eunuchs?

The very one who made Huang Ming anxious, fearing he would make some slip as the sixteen-year-old’s father—or was it uncle?

But why did he look so young?

Indeed, the Huang Jin before him was nothing like the image of a grand eunuch Huang Ming had imagined.

No matter how he looked, there was none of the mature, steady, keen, or reserved air one would expect.

Judging by looks alone, with his fair, beardless face and boyish features, it would be a stretch to say he was even past twenty.

He seemed less a wealthy patriarch, and more a young master himself. If Huang Ming stood beside him, others would take them for brothers, not father and son.

After a moment’s daze, Huang Ming finally realized he had been misled by preconceived notions.

Who said a father had to be a staid, middle-aged man?

Who said a trusted confidant beside the emperor must be an elder, seasoned grand eunuch?