Volume Two: The Noble and the Knave Chapter Ten: Returning to the Palace

The hour had passed the second watch.

Within the Joy Pavilion, laughter and merriment still reigned, with songbirds chirping and swallows darting, but outside, the city had already sunk into the quiet of deep night.

At this hour, Huang Ming, supported by Qi Changfeng, staggered slightly as he walked out of the Joy Pavilion.

Although Zhang Han and Xu Qing had urged him to simply stay the night, and Miss Ziyun had shyly hinted her willingness to accompany him, Huang Ming still chose to return home.

It wasn’t entirely due to self-restraint, but rather out of habit. Drinking with friends and playing along with the festivities was one thing, but to truly spend the night amidst flowers and willows—he could not bring himself to cross that line, not for the first time in this body. Surely, he thought, his first experience should not occur in such a place.

Qi Changfeng, feeling as if he’d been granted a reprieve, hurried after Huang Ming. Both of them were tinged with the effects of wine, but fortunately, the coachman had been waiting outside. Once they boarded their own carriage, they could head straight home.

Their carriage had barely left the Joy Pavilion and passed two street corners when, under the light of torches ahead, a squad of patrol soldiers appeared, blocking their path.

Seeing their carriage, the soldiers quickly moved to intercept, demanding, “Who goes there? How dare you violate the curfew, wandering through the capital at night!”

The coachman trembled at the harsh shout, and after stepping down as instructed, dared not utter a word.

Huang Ming, already somewhat inebriated, lifted the curtain, his face full of confusion. “Isn’t it still the festival season? Why is there a curfew?”

He realized his oversight—being a traveler from another time, curfews seldom crossed his mind. Especially during the New Year, with the city so lively by day, who would notice what happened at night? Besides, his status afforded him some impunity; he’d often roamed at night with little interference from patrolling soldiers.

“It is not New Year’s Eve or the Lantern Festival,” the officer explained curtly. “There is a curfew in the capital. Idlers are forbidden from venturing out at night, lest they be treated as thieves!”

With that, the officer ordered, “Seize them and bring them to the South City Command for questioning.”

As the soldiers prepared to act, Huang Ming hurriedly called out, “Wait, I am the son of Eunuch Huang from the palace. Could you make an exception?”

“Eunuch Huang, Eunuch Green—none of that matters to us!” the officer barked. “Delay any longer and we will treat you as thieves. Get out of the carriage, we need to search it!”

Huang Ming could see there was no point in arguing.

He blamed his own carelessness, especially for not carrying the imperial dragon jade pendant granted to him by the Emperor. Now he could only comply.

Qi Changfeng frowned and whispered, “Master, shall I deal with them?”

“No, this time it’s truly my fault. Let’s take it as a lesson,” Huang Ming shook his head, then stepped down as ordered.

Having once served in law enforcement, Huang Ming respected those who carried out their duties impartially, and would not cause trouble over this.

The soldiers searched them and their carriage, found nothing illicit, and with a command, escorted them toward the South City Command.

The coachman, Huang An, perhaps because he was so unremarkable, was not taken along.

As he parted, Huang Ming shot him a look and mouthed the words, “Jinyiwei…”

Now, it seemed, the only way out was to call upon Huang Bingkun once more.

Thus, the two were marched through the biting wind, the discomfort far worse than in the carriage. After only a few steps, the cold stung their faces, but the wine’s effects quickly dissipated.

At that moment, Huang Ming caught sight, out of the corner of his eye, of someone standing at the street corner—a familiar figure. On closer inspection, he remembered: this was one of the attendants he had seen behind Zhang Pan.

Why was he here now?

As Huang Ming wondered, the man flashed a triumphant smile and turned to leave.

What was suspicious was that although such a conspicuous figure passed before them, the squad of soldiers ignored him completely and continued forward.

Qi Changfeng, dissatisfied, pointed at the man’s retreating back. “Isn’t he breaking the curfew as well? Why don’t you arrest him?”

“Mind your manners! Who are you to tell us how to do our job?” a soldier snapped, raising his spear menacingly. The others followed suit, driving them on, “Move faster!” Their blades and spears made feigned strikes.

Huang Ming snorted, “So that’s how it is. Changfeng, someone has set a trap for us. Don’t waste words arguing.”

He understood now—the squad of patrolling soldiers was arranged by Zhang Pan’s people, lying in wait for him.

All to appease that young master’s bruised pride.

How ironic that he had just admired these soldiers for their impartiality, only to discover ulterior motives.

There was nothing more to say; they could only submit to their fate.

After being marched for nearly half an hour, they arrived at the familiar South City Command.

No one came to question them; they were simply thrown into the rear prison, a place even more familiar to Huang Ming.

With a clatter, the chains locked the cell door. Gazing at the surroundings, so familiar, Huang Ming felt momentarily dazed, as if time had reversed.

Good grief, after only a few months, he found himself once again imprisoned at the South City Command, reduced to a common prisoner.

This was a classic case of “second entry into the palace.”

Compared to his first arrival after crossing over, although the cold made things more uncomfortable, his personal safety was assured.

At least, Qi Changfeng was by his side.

“Master, what should we do now?” Qi Changfeng asked nervously, his sword confiscated.

Huang Ming calmly selected a clean corner and sat down, smiling, “Wait. Wait for Captain Huang of the Jinyiwei to come and rescue us.”

“How will he—” Qi Changfeng began, then remembered Huang An. “Huang An will deliver the message?”

“Yes. So we needn’t worry. Before dawn, Huang Bingkun will surely arrive.”

Huang Ming, having said this, leaned back and closed his eyes to rest.

Qi Changfeng, reassured but still vigilant, stood straight beside Huang Ming, his keen gaze fixed on the cell door, ready to notice any movement.

After nearly an hour, shouts and hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor outside.