NWAFAM 115: Fruit Juice

The reason why sentient beings cannot attain the true path is because of their deluded minds.

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In the prosperous street, there stood a grand five-room building with three opening doors. The two red solid doors in the middle remained tightly closed all year round, and even the small doors on both sides had not been used for over six months. Under the hanging flowers above, a magnificent plaque proclaimed to passersby that this place was not an ordinary noble family, but a royal clan that was unattainable.

But today, the two small doors unexpectedly opened a crack. Some bold souls peered inside from a distance and saw servants bustling about, a group of graceful maidens wandering around, as if they were in a fairyland.

“Move a bit quicker!” An elderly steward descended the steps, surveying the surroundings before quickly making his way to the long-abandoned courtyard. At this moment, everything in the courtyard had been replaced with new items; even the candlesticks gleamed with silver light. The steward instructed the servants to wash the bedding and pillows thoroughly and selected fragrant sachets to hand over to the maidens, then said, “Be careful, the master will be back in two days.”

One of the young servants who had been following him asked curiously, “The master is returning, so why the sudden need for this Qihui Courtyard? Could it be that he is bringing back the mistress?”

The old steward tapped the young servant lightly on the shoulder, saying, “The master’s matters are not for you to gossip about! Get to work!”

There was only one waterway for the canal to enter the capital. If Yan Chang’s ship sailed straight in, it would be too conspicuous. According to the rules, princes with titles were not allowed to enter the capital without an imperial edict; violators faced demotion or, in severe cases, charges of treason. However, it was currently the season for the royal spring hunt, and any favored scion from noble families would be present. In another month, it would be the Empress Dowager’s birthday, so it was only reasonable for Yan Chang to make this trip.

The emperor was a wise ruler, known for his benevolence, and Yan Chang was certain that he would not disregard his own dignity. Therefore, after submitting a memorial, he set out without waiting for the emperor’s reply. If others were to find out about this behavior, they might label him as “audacious,” but he conducted his affairs with utmost caution, leaving no room for error. Even under the scrutiny of thousands, no one could pinpoint his faults.

Upon reaching the capital, the ship did not proceed further and sought a nearly abandoned small dock with few people, where they disembarked and changed to carriages.

A group of people busily moved their luggage, which were heavy iron-bound boxes. No one knew what was inside, but despite their curiosity, no one dared to speculate on the contents. The only ones who might have had a chance to see were Yan Chang and a few of his close confidants.

The servants mindlessly carried the boxes. Yan Chang walked over, showing no intent to conceal his actions. He directly opened one of the boxes to confirm the safety of its contents. Someone quick-eyed peered in and saw a pot of red coral, a precious decorative piece from the South China Sea. Such rare treasures were not uncommon among officials and royal relatives, so curiosity quickly waned.

Looking at the red coral in the box, Yan Chang recalled the first time he became aware of the difference in status—because of that very pot of red coral.

That year during the Spring Festival, the palace was adorned with an array of gifts from various departments. He, being young and spirited, was only focused on his own enjoyment and despised the intrigue of power plays. Moreover, a month prior, he had assisted the Ministry of War in a significant matter, earning him a moment of great prestige. During the feast, his mother had repeatedly urged him to cultivate relationships with various officials, but he had said “bothersome” and hid away to enjoy wine and dance.

At that time, a red coral tree had been presented from the southern sea, its elegance captivating him. He loved gold and red, and upon seeing the pot at the foot of the stairs, he couldn’t take his eyes off it, staring at it throughout the entire banquet. When the feast was about to end, he eagerly sought out his father to ask for it. There was nothing in the world he couldn’t get; even the only jade toad in Daxia had once been lavishly bestowed upon him by his father. This time, it was merely a pot of worthless coral, and he was confident he would get it.

But unexpectedly, just as he opened his mouth, his seventh royal brother also pointed out the coral tree.

His seventh royal brother was known for his virtuous reputation. Although not the direct heir, his maternal family was noble. There were whispers in the court that the old emperor had already favored him as the successor, and after a hundred years, it would certainly be this seventh brother who would inherit the throne. Officials quickly aligned themselves, fearing a change in monarch would bring about a change in ministers. When these rumors reached him, he merely laughed it off, not taking them seriously. His seventh brother was indeed virtuous, but he had no military accomplishments. With the frequent border unrest, even if the emperor were foolish, he would not be foolish enough to choose the seventh brother.

Implied in this was that he should be the one chosen.

This arrogant thought he had only shared once in his mother’s palace, for which he received a slap and was reprimanded to be cautious with his words. He complied outwardly but felt defiant inside, constantly competing with his seventh brother, trying to overshadow him. Yet his seventh brother was docile, allowing him to suppress and steal without putting up any visible resistance, like a soft bun that couldn’t be grasped or kneaded.

He was naturally unwilling to give up this pot of red coral.

As for how the events unfolded, he genuinely couldn’t remember clearly. He only recalled the subtle frown of his father amidst the gold cups and silver bowls. In the end, he did not obtain that pot of red coral and watched as it was taken back to his seventh brother’s residence. All his father bestowed upon him was a scroll of the “Classic of Purity” written on golden silk, suggesting that since he loved ornate items, this scroll should be kept well.

That night, he read the entire scroll of the “Classic of Purity” and copied over a dozen copies to post around the palace. Afterward, he suddenly realized what the scriptures did not tell him: it was that very pot of red coral in his seventh brother’s palace that revealed to him—royal favor was merely a fleeting dream, a passing cloud; moreover, what others said was true: he was merely a windbreak and stepping stone for his seventh brother.

From then on, he no longer mentioned the coral tree and threw himself into the northwest, earning countless military achievements.

At that time, he still harbored a shred of hope, thinking perhaps his father would see his capabilities and recognize that he was not merely a frivolous playboy, thus changing his view and understanding how hard he worked.

At a young age, he had accumulated a myriad of injuries, healing the old ones, only to have new ones arise immediately. Some were good, some were not, but in the end… things did not turn out as he wished.

How could he accept this!

In these recent days, the emotions he had settled began to stir again with these old memories. He frowned slightly, unable to completely suppress the sinister light welling up in his eyes; the anger within him bubbled like boiling mire, surging uncontrollably. Now that he was in charge of the southern seas, he could have as much red coral as he wanted, casually giving it to beggars on the streets when he was happy, and smashing it to play with when he wasn’t, without a hint of regret.

But it was ultimately the root of all his suffering, lodged in his chest like a petrified fishbone.

“Thud! Thud!”

Yan Chang turned his head and heard the sound of a door being kicked from behind the locked cabin. A few sounds of curses came from inside. He suddenly relaxed his brow, casually closed the iron-bound box, and strode back, stopping in front of the heavily chained door. Through the door, he said with interest, “Awake? You woke up earlier than yesterday. It’s not even the third watch yet; aren’t you going to sleep a little longer?”

The east cabin had long been completely sealed by Yan Chang. Yu Jinjian could occasionally glimpse some light through the cracks or guess whether it was day or night by the subtle changes in temperature, but more often he was immersed in boundless darkness, unable to discern the time. With nothing to do, he grew tired of the few trick toys he had, tossing them aside without the slightest inclination to touch them again. Moreover, Yan Chang wouldn’t let him engage in other activities. Bored to death, he could only sleep, and as he slept, he lost track of time.

What annoyed him was that had it not been for Yan Chang’s reminder, he wouldn’t have known that his day and night were reversed.

Hearing him say nothing, Yan Chang continued to tease him, “Why don’t you guess where Ji Shuluan has gone?”

Yu Jinjian could no longer hold back upon hearing this, kicking the door with a foot and cursing uncontrollably, “You know him!”

Yan Chang smiled faintly, “And so what? He will never know where you are. Year after year, patience is limited—for both you and me. I may not have many skills, but I have cultivated the art of patience to perfection. You might as well see how long you can endure.” He spoke while caressing the door, as if he were touching something else through the wooden barrier, his tone softening momentarily, “Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Hearing that intimate way of addressing him made Yu Jinjian feel disgusted. However, upon reflection, he found something strange in Yan Chang’s words. What did he mean by “how long you can endure”? Endure what?

Before he could decipher the meaning, the sound of chains rattling came from outside, as if someone was unlocking the door. Yu Jinjian had been trapped in the east cabin for half a month and had no idea where the ship had traveled, nor did he know that he was now under the emperor’s feet. He then heard Yan Chang conversing with Zhou Feng, mentioning “Qihui Courtyard” and “getting everything ready.” Unable to see through Yan Chang’s intentions, he took a few steps back to hide.

With a loud “clang,” the chains fell to the ground, and Yan Chang’s figure gradually appeared through the gap in the door.

However, the sunlight outside was too bright, so Yu Jinjian immediately turned his head down, afraid to look directly at the light, fearing it might hurt his eyes.

After a moment, he dared to sneak a glance and realized they had already docked. He paused for a moment, falling into a new round of thought about “how to escape,” since once on land, it would be harder to control the situation. If he plotted to escape, he would have a better chance of success.

Yan Chang seemed to pity his eyes, stepping closer to scrutinize them. When he reached out to touch Yu Jinjian, he dodged out of jealousy and disdain. Yan Chang wasn’t in a hurry; instead, he remarked sarcastically, “Closing the windows is for your own good; otherwise, living in a mute room, you’d go mad in a few days. Those glazed eyes of yours and your delicate heart are meant to be open and awake. But I’d like to ask you, what enjoyment do you find following Ji Shuluan? That man is so dull and stuffy; he’s unbearably boring.”

This was the first time Yu Jinjian had heard someone describe Ji Hong with such unrefined terms as “stuffy” and “unbearably boring.” Usually, he was filled with praises like “graceful and elegant,” “refined and cultured,” and “like an exquisite jade tree,” painting him as an otherworldly figure. Although this might have been a slight exaggeration, Ji Hong was indeed a remarkably handsome and talented man.

In short, there was no way such words as “stuffy” would apply to him. Thus, Yu Jinjian vehemently disagreed with Yan Chang’s assessment and countered, “Boss Xia, to be honest, you must be blind.”

He truly had this ability; having become a fish on the butcher’s block, he could still insult others without changing his expression, completely oblivious to his situation.

Yan Chang did not get angry; instead, he laughed, looking entirely unfazed. Yet, the next moment, he flipped his expression and casually beckoned with his left hand.

In the next instant, Zhou Feng and a few young servants rushed in, pinning Yu Jinjian’s hands and feet, forcing him down onto the table. Even if he didn’t want to sit, he was made to press his backside against the bench.

Yan Chang approached with a bowl of tea. Upon realizing his intentions, Yu Jinjian immediately struggled. However, he wasn’t a fighter; his greatest strength had only ever been carrying rice and flour back from the granary. With just Zhou Feng’s strength, it was enough to keep him from drinking a pot.

As the situation became dire, Yu Jinjian stopped pretending to be obedient and glared at Yan Chang, saying, “You’re not even surnamed Xia!”

“Oh? Is that so?” Yan Chang paused, not because he feared being exposed by Yu Jinjian but out of curiosity about when his identity had been revealed or whether this was just the boy speaking without thinking in a panic, attempting to deceive him. “Then tell me, what is my surname? If you guess correctly, I’ll let you go.”

Yu Jinjian refused to answer, but his clear expression indicated he already had an answer in mind; he simply looked down on the idea of voicing it.

Yan Chang smiled slightly and stepped closer.

Knowing he couldn’t escape this calamity, Yu Jinjian thought to himself that it was just another round of the intoxicated demon; it wasn’t a big deal—at most, he would suffer for another night, and upon waking, he would still be a man.

Yan Chang pinched his chin, gently lifting the tea cup. The slightly red liquid, with a rich sour-sweet taste, rushed down his throat. He initially thought it was tea but realized as it entered his mouth that it was fresh fruit juice. The sweetness was overwhelming, and just as he opened his mouth to sarcastically question why the taste had changed today, he suddenly felt the flavor reverse in his throat, accompanied by an undeniable spiciness.

His eyes widened in shock, and he struggled with all his might.

Once the juice was forced down his throat, Yan Chang let him digest it for a moment before Zhou Feng finally released his grip.

Yu Jinjian jumped up violently, immediately gagging twice but failing to bring anything up. He glared at Yan Chang, shouting, “How much did you give me? Do you know this could kill someone?” Without waiting for an answer, he rushed to the basin in the room, pressing his tongue down to induce vomiting. After managing to heave a little, he kept pouring water into himself, continuing to force himself.

“I thought your feelings were as strong as gold and you wouldn’t want to live in my hands, let alone be generous in seeking death. It seems I was mistaken.” Yan Chang watched him leisurely, as if the mischief he had just committed and the suffering the youth endured had nothing to do with him. After enjoying the show, he seriously answered Yu Jinjian’s question, “Not much—just enough for you to vomit some out, then still be able to knock you out.”

Yu Jinjian wasn’t afraid of dying; he just didn’t want to die for no reason, just as he had in his past life, living an absurd life. Everyone has obsessions; it was no wonder that the depth and weight of those obsessions varied. Some sought revenge, others sought redemption, and for him, living and living with value was his obsession. Therefore, Yan Chang’s actions thoroughly infuriated him.

“I just said, if you guess my surname, I’ll let you go. I keep my promises.” Yan Chang stepped aside, clearing the door, and said readily, “Go on.”

Yu Jinjian truly couldn’t vomit anymore. Hearing this, he became enraged, thinking about how could he leave after being drugged? He was nothing more than a monkey being toyed with! Yet even for a moment, he didn’t want to see that lunatic again. He circumvented Yan Chang, kicked Zhou Feng once he was out of the east cabin, and staggered down the ship. Standing on the shore, he looked up at Yan Chang, pointing at him in front of a group of servants, shouting, “You’re a lunatic! A completely crazy lunatic!”

Yan Chang did not deny it, simply standing on the ship watching him walk away. As he walked, he started to run, as if running a few more steps would truly allow him to escape. However, running like that would only increase the circulation of blood, hastening the effect of the drug; even he knew such basic medical principles—didn’t the little divine doctor from Xinan understand?

Thus, Yu Jinjian ran so far not because he wanted to escape but simply out of his strong aversion to Yan Chang.

“Desire begets obsession.” Yan Chang said, recalling the contents of the “Classic of Purity” after many years, “The reason why sentient beings cannot attain the true path is because of their deluded minds. With deluded minds comes the startling of their spirits; with startling spirits comes attachment to all things…”

He didn’t believe in ghosts or deities, yet he remembered it clearer than anyone.

“Once attached to all things, desire arises.”

In the distance, the young man staggered a couple of steps before falling to the ground.