Category Archives: In-Progress

Translations of Chinese Boy’s Love webnovels. Only the English translation belongs to me everything else belongs to the original author.

In-Progress, The Kingdom That Never Sleeps

The Kingdom That Never Sleeps CH 083 Marshal Of The Western Expedition, Li Jingde

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In the thirtieth year of Kaiping, in September, the two official roads leading to Youzhou and Cizhou were completed.

Minister of Public Works Yuan Mu and Right Vice Minister of Public Works Su Wenyun returned to the capital together to report to the emperor. The emperor was greatly pleased and generously rewarded the ministers. In fact, the official road to Cizhou should have been completed long ago, but due to the collapse of the Jing River Bridge, no one dared to cut corners when building this road afterward. They worked with utmost precision, which caused the delay.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

After Su Wenyun returned to the capital, he held dual positions as the Right Vice Minister of Public Works and the Junior Minister at the Court of Judicial Review. He became the center of attention in Shengjing. 

The Su family from Northern Zhili was a prominent and prosperous family in the Song Dynasty, but most of its members were military generals. As a civil official, Su Wenyun held the highest position.

After returning to the capital, Su Wenyun also had to work in Qinzheng Hall. 

Tang Shen inevitably saw him a few times, but Su daren, a man of high status, would not bother paying attention to a mere Tang Shen. The two had no further interactions, which suited Tang Shen just fine.

The Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review was responsible for overseeing officials guilty of crimes, so no one dared to offend Su Wenyun.

In the imperial court, Wang Zhen held authority over the Silver Pull Division, wielding great power. As Wang Zhen’s junior brother, Tang Shen also rose in status and gained the favor of Zhao Fu. However, Tang Shen ultimately served as an attendant secretary of the Secretariat under Xu Bi.

One day, a eunuch came to Qinzheng Hall to deliver a message. The emperor’s birthday was approaching, and the empress dowager had notified the Ministry of Rites to organize this year’s “Longevity Festival.”

Minister of Rites Meng Lang received the decree, and the entire court became busy.

As an attendant secretary of the Secretariat, Tang Shen followed Xu Bi’s orders to supervise the congratulatory memorials and gifts submitted by local officials. The emperor’s birthday gifts were different from those for common people; officials from all ranks had to present offerings. These gifts had to be “refined, rare, and unique,” a standard that troubled many officials, who struggled to meet such criteria.

Tang Shen soon received countless memorials. The officials wrote their birthday congratulations in flowery language, but their gifts were pitiful.

Left Vice Prime Minister Chen Linghai was also responsible for this year’s “Longevity Festival,” so Tang Shen inevitably crossed paths with him.

Chen Linghai summoned Tang Shen to the main hall and asked, “How are the birthday gifts from the local officials this year?”

Tang Shen tried to play dumb for these officials: “In reply to Chen xianggong, officials from Huxi, Jiangnan, the Northern and Southern Zhili regions, and the northwest have already submitted their memorials and gifts. Officials from other regions have also sent in most of their memorials. However, since these areas are far from Shengjing, their gifts are still en route and have not yet arrived.”

“Every year it’s the same for the Longevity Festival. I’m well aware,” Chen Linghai said, implying that everyone knew officials from remote areas could not offer much, so there was no need to hide it.

Hearing this, Tang Shen forced a smile and said, “I’m still supervising the matter.”

Chen Linghai said, “No need to worry too much. His Majesty is occupied daily with state affairs. Although his orders reach all corners of the realm, there are always places his decrees cannot touch. As long as the birthday gifts reach the treasury, that will suffice. His Majesty understands the struggles of local officials and has never been overly harsh.”

Upon hearing this, Tang Shen immediately bowed and said, “Thank you, xianggong, for your guidance.”

Chen Linghai smiled, stroking his beard. “This is your first year handling the Longevity Festival. There are bound to be things you don’t know, but it’s no trouble. By the way, your teacher and I were old acquaintances. Back when the late emperor was still on the throne, I, along with Fu Xiru, were among the four most esteemed scholars in the realm. Looking back now, those days feel as vivid as ever.”

Tang Shen lowered his gaze and said, “I’ve heard my teacher mention Chen xianggong before. He said that Chen xianggong was especially skilled at painting birds and flowers. Among the blooms, one could see a lively oriole weaving through the flowers, a scene truly worthy of praise.”

After leaving Chen Linghai’s office, Tang Shen returned to his room, his eyes flickering slightly, but he showed no unusual expression and continued reviewing the lists of gifts sent by local officials.

More than thirty years ago, four highly respected scholars were revered as the “Four Scholars of the World.” These four were Zhong Taisheng, Liang Bowen, Fu Xiru, and Chen Weizhi.

Chen Linghai’s courtesy name was Wei Zhi, taken from The Book of Songs·Xuan Niao.

Boundaries stretch for thousands of miles, where the people reside; it begins with the expanse of the four seas.

Among the four, Zhong Taisheng was famed for his remarkable scholarship and was revered by all. Liang Bowen was known for his vast knowledge and was once called the “living library” of the Song Dynasty. Fu Xiru excelled at calligraphy, while Chen Weizhi was known for painting. At the time, these four were also among the most influential ministers in the court. Unfortunately, Zhong Taisheng and Liang Bowen, members of the Songqing faction, were despised by Zhao Fu after their failed coup, and over the years, only Fu Xiru and Chen Linghai managed to remain in power.

Tang Shen paid close attention to Chen Linghai mainly because when Xu Hui was organizing Liang Song’s belongings, he found a secret letter written by Chen Linghai to Liang Song. In the letter, Chen Linghai advised his friend not to try to rescue Zhong Wei from the prison. The emperor would never allow Zhong Wei to leave the dungeon, and no matter how many memorials Liang Song submitted or how many connections he tried to leverage, it was impossible to succeed.

After Zhao Fu crushed the Songqing faction, only Fu Wei and Chen Linghai had extended help to Liang Song among the prominent figures of Shengjing.

Tang Shen sighed.

A true gentleman knows what must be done and what must not.

Didn’t Liang Song understand?

Knowing something cannot be done but doing it anyway—this was the belief, the right path, that Liang Song and many other scholars held in their hearts!

In October, the Hanlin Academy began revising the History of Song Officials. Fu Wei was deeply interested in this and went to the Hanlin Academy daily for work, becoming increasingly busy. By the sixth of the month, Tang Shen arrived empty-handed at the Minister Residence.

Wang Zhen’s steward was surprised to see Tang Shen come without bringing any gifts. He even looked behind him to make sure.

The steward asked, “Tang gongzi, did you come alone?” There was no carriage in sight!

In Wang Zhen’s residence, the steward and servants didn’t call their master “daren” but instead referred to him as “gongzi.”

Tang Shen smiled wryly, “I didn’t bring anything.”

The steward paused for a moment before leading Tang Shen inside.

When Wang Zhen saw that Tang Shen hadn’t brought anything, he raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him.

Tang Shen coughed and said, “Don’t bother looking, Senior Brother. I didn’t bring any gifts today.”

Wang Zhen instructed the steward, “Bring me this year’s almanac.”

The steward quickly fetched an almanac. Wang Zhen searched through it for a while before pointing at the characters for “October 6th” and said to Tang Shen, “Perhaps I’m mistaken, little Junior Brother. Isn’t the sixth of October my birthday?”

Tang Shen replied, “It is your birthday, Senior Brother.”

Wang Zhen said, “Then surely this almanac is wrong. Every year on New Year’s Day, the Astronomical Bureau calculates the almanac and announces it to the world. I didn’t expect Li daren from the Astronomical Bureau to make such an error. Tomorrow, when I see him at court, I will certainly have a word with him.”

Tang Shen: “…”

Wang Zifeng, you’re really good at accusing others of not giving gifts to you in a roundabout way!

The steward, holding a yellow almanac, quietly left the room, and Tang Shen was also feeling huffy. He had known Wang Zifeng for four years, showering him with endless compliments, and had more or less learned how to flatter him. Tang Shen snorted lightly and said, “Who says I didn’t prepare a gift for Senior Brother?”

Wang Zifeng smiled, “Then where is it?”

Tang Shen responded, “Bring me some paper and ink. I’ll paint a picture for Senior Brother!”

At the age of sixteen, Tang Shen had already been ranked third in the imperial exams, so there was no doubt about his academic ability. He was a proper jinshi. But when it came to the arts—music, chess, calligraphy, painting—he was sorely lacking and couldn’t produce anything decent. The fact that he declared he would paint made Wang Zifeng smile even more brightly. He immediately instructed the page boy to prepare the ink, paper, and brushes, eager to see what kind of painting Tang Shen would produce for him.

After grinding the ink and dipping the brush, Tang Shen glanced at Wang Zifeng and began to paint.

Initially, Tang Shen was just painting out of spite, but as he continued, he became engrossed.

An hour later, Tang Shen finished the final stroke. Wang Zifeng walked up, observed the painting for a moment, and then looked at him, “How long have you been practicing in secret?”

Tang Shen sighed helplessly, “Senior Brother saw through me. For your birthday this year, I really didn’t know what to give you. After much thought, I decided to paint you a picture. I’m not skilled in painting, so every day after returning from work, I’d picture your face and paint two more images. It took half a month… to reach this level.”

Wang Zifeng was touched, his lips moved, but for once, he didn’t know what to say.

Tang Shen said, “But next year, I really don’t know what birthday gift I could give you. If it’s not good, Senior Brother mustn’t blame me.”

Wang Zifeng’s tone was light, his mood cheerful, “How could I blame you?”

Tang Shen thought to himself: As long as you don’t blame me, it’s good. I’ve already given you a heads-up a year in advance, so remember what you said today.

After they had dinner, Wang Zifeng said, “Your painting skills still have some gaps. Stay the night, and I’ll give you a bit of guidance.”

Tang Shen groaned inwardly, “Senior Brother, three years ago, I passed the imperial exams, I’m not your student anymore!”

“Who said you’re my student?” Wang Zifeng said lazily, “You’re my junior brother.”

Tang Shen: “…”

Others might spend the night in conversation, sharing heartfelt words. But for Tang Shen, it became a session where Wang Zifeng taught him how to paint!

Wang Zifeng was good at painting, but what did that have to do with Tang Shen? He couldn’t appreciate the beauty of traditional Chinese paintings at all. Managing to paint Wang Zifeng’s portrait was already the result of half a month of private practice. No matter how good Wang Zifeng’s teaching was, Tang Shen was still suffering. In the end, he pretended to be sleepy, “Senior Brother, I want to sleep.”

Wang Zifeng couldn’t help but laugh.

Taking advantage of the moment, Tang Shen escaped to the guest room, shut the door, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Zhao Fu’s birthday was celebrated nationwide, and he pardoned the entire country.

However, only two days later, an urgent military report from the northwest arrived. A war between two nations had broken out, with the Liao army attacking Youzhou City, engulfing the area in flames.

The court was in an uproar.

On the dragon throne, Zhao Fu slowly narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t until the officials one by one stood up to condemn the Liao people for violating the peace agreement and urged the emperor to send troops to fight the Liao that Zhao Fu finally flew into a rage, saying, “The Liao people have gone too far. How can I tolerate this?”

Thus, the Song army marched to war, and the two nations clashed.

The battle lasted for a full month.

At this time, the strategic importance of the Youzhou official road became apparent.

In terms of military strength, the Song dynasty had always been far inferior to the Liao. Twenty years ago, the Liao were forced to sign the peace treaty only because the Song sacrificed everything—nearly gambling away their entire nation for victory. Economically, however, the Song Dynasty was far wealthier than five Liao States combined! With the Youzhou official road, military supplies were more easily transported, allowing the Song army to hold out even if they couldn’t win.

The Liao army initially thought it would be a mere hassle, expecting to capture Youzhou within ten days. But after a month of fighting, though the Song army had yet to secure a victory, the Liao forces still hadn’t managed to take the city either.

Wars are costly affairs, and the Liao State never intended to swallow the Song Dynasty at this point; they merely wanted to extract tribute through conflict. Now, seeing that Youzhou still hadn’t fallen, the Liao emperor, in a show of magnanimity, announced a temporary halt to the battle and set up camp fifty miles outside Youzhou, sending envoys to Shengjing to negotiate peace with the Song emperor.

When news reached Shengjing, the court was abuzz with discussion.

Minister of Rites Meng Lang presented a memorial: “The Liao people have treacherous intentions, and they must be here to demand money!”

Minister of Justice Shen Yun countered, “Not necessarily. I’ve heard the Liao emperor intends to propose a marriage alliance.”

This statement landed like a thunderbolt, shocking the entire court, and even those royal relatives who weren’t present felt the blow, crying out in dismay.

A marriage alliance?

The Liao emperor was thirty-four years old, in his prime, and, in theory, a suitable groom. But he was notoriously cruel! Apart from his empress, Empress Xiao, at least ten concubines per year died in his palace—each one tortured to death by the emperor. Sending a princess to marry him would be a death sentence, a slow and agonizing one at that!

Worst of all, Zhao Fu didn’t have any unmarried princesses of age!

If there were no princesses, who could they marry off?

First, select among the sons and daughters of the royal family, then the daughters of the officials.  

For a time, crying echoed throughout the city of Shengjing, as no one was willing to send their precious daughters to the Liao State to suffer.  

Although these matters had nothing to do with Tang Shen, several ministers in Qinzheng Hall had daughters of the right age, and in recent days they all wore worried expressions, sighing continuously. When one sighed, others followed, and the gloom deepened.

Tang Shen carried memorials to the office of the Minister of Works, and as he was leaving, he ran into Su Wenyun.  

As the two of them stood outside they could still hear the sighs coming from inside the room.  

Yuan Mu didn’t have a daughter of the right age, but he did have a granddaughter who was.  

Su Wenyun chuckled, “The Liao delegation hasn’t even arrived, and the court is already in chaos. What will happen when they actually come?”  

Tang Shen remained silent, bowed, and was about to leave.  

At that moment, a soldier in military attire jogged into Ji Wengji’s office. Both Tang Shen and Su Wenyun glanced at him. Tang Shen noticed that the soldier’s armor was somewhat unusual, bearing a golden insignia on the arm.  

Tang Shen asked, puzzled, “I’ve never seen a soldier wearing such armor before.”  

Su Wenyun scoffed, “From the northwest, part of the Feilong Army.”  

Tang Shen’s heart jolted.  

Feilong Army?  

He glanced at Su Wenyun but said nothing, turning to leave.  

Later that evening, just as he was about to leave the office, Tang Shen finally learned why the Feilong Army soldier had rushed all the way from the northwest to Shengjing. As it happened, the officials had been discussing the arrival of the Liao delegation, which was coming to arrange a political marriage, with the emperor of Liao seeking to marry a princess. Meanwhile, General Li Jingde, who was fighting against the Liao forces in Youzhou City, had just lost his wife three days ago, leaving behind a four-year-old child.  

Li Jingde was on the front lines, but his family remained in Shengjing. Now that the two armies had ceased hostilities and the Liao delegation was coming to the capital, Li Jingde seized the opportunity to return home under the pretext of attending his wife’s funeral, all the while keeping a close watch on the Liao envoys.  

At that moment, Tang Shen suddenly recalled something he had once said when he was a junior chamberlain: Zhao Fu had three most trusted confidants in court.  

The Minister of Revenue, Wang Zhen; the Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, Su Wenyun; and the Marshal of the Western Expedition, Li Jingde!  

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

It turns out Li Jingde had long since married and even had a child.  

But General Li was 32 this year, so it was perfectly normal for him to have married and had children.  

Suddenly, Tang Shen froze, recalling something…  

Wait, wasn’t Wang Zifeng already 28? Why hadn’t he married yet?!  

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In-Progress, Top Dupe

Top Dupe CH 087 Did You Dream Of Me? Part 1

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After finishing the scene, everyone could finally rest. It was already three in the morning, and to their surprise, the crew had prepared a late-night snack. Although it was just simple hot noodle soup, the sound of slurping noodles echoed one after another, and the fragrance of scallions and eggs whetted everyone’s appetite.

Luo Yu scooped a bowl and was about to dig in, slurping away. Even Ye Shengyi and Brother Yan, who had been staying up with them for the night shoot, were eating heartily, but Gu Xiaowei quietly sat outside the crowd, looking down at his script.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

A staff member passing by kindly asked, “Teacher Gu, aren’t you going to eat something?”

“No, thanks.”

Luo Yu sighed helplessly, brought his bowl over to Gu Xiaowei’s side, and gently nudged him with his elbow. “Eat a bit.”

“It’s the middle of the night. If I eat now and then go straight to sleep, I won’t burn it off.”

Luo Yu leaned in to examine him closely.

Gu Xiaowei asked, “What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?”

“You’re already skinny enough, gloomy enough, and sickly enough. You can showcase those traits with your acting skills—you don’t need hollow cheeks or an overly sharp jawline. It’s fine if you skip the noodles, but can’t you at least eat an egg?”

Luo Yu picked up an egg, blew on it gently, held the bowl underneath it, and brought it to Gu Xiaowei’s lips.

“You already had a piece of roll earlier. Adding an egg won’t make much difference.”

Gu Xiaowei’s fingers tightened slightly around the script. He opened his mouth, and the egg slipped in. He looked up and met Luo Yu’s smile.

“Have a bite of some greens, too.” Luo Yu picked up a tender bit of vegetable and offered it to him.

Gu Xiaowei ate it as well.

Brother Yan and Ye Shengyi looked at Luo Yu with admiration.

“Brother Gu is so well-behaved in front of Brother Luo,” Ye Shengyi sighed.

“Who says he isn’t?” Brother Yan imagined it. “If some entertainment account posted a photo of them now online, I can’t even imagine the trending headline.”

“The man who makes Gu Xiaowei listen obediently—Luo Yu?”

“Too long. How about #GoodBoy?” Brother Yan suggested.

“Forget it. It’d shoot up the trending list only to be taken down by Meng Yu.” Ye Shengyi imagined the headline disappearing as soon as it appeared.

After finishing the noodles, they wrapped up for the night. They could finally rest in the morning, resuming filming in the afternoon.

On the way back, Luo Yu was already dozing off, and as soon as they reached the villa, Gu Xiaowei told him to shower first.

He nearly fell asleep while drying his hair, collapsing into bed and falling asleep as soon as he pulled up the duvet.

Perhaps the late filming or the intensity of the scenes had affected him, but although Luo Yu was asleep, he found himself in an inexplicable dream.

He saw Gu Xiaowei standing on the rooftop, his face illuminated by bright sunlight. He had his eyes closed, tilting his face upward, light glinting off his nose, his hair slightly lifted, relaxed and free, like a feather with no weight.

This version of Gu Xiaowei was beautiful. Luo Yu approached, wanting to embrace him.

But just a step away, an invisible wall separated them. Luo Yu could only watch as Gu Xiaowei stepped onto the edge of the rooftop.

He smiled into the sunlight—a smile so unburdened that Luo Yu had never seen before.

Yet at that moment, a tidal wave of fear surged within Luo Yu’s heart. Gu Xiaowei strolled along the edge of the rooftop as if walking on clouds, the wind rushing past his ears, like a rose blooming to its utmost, about to be plucked.

“Gu Xiaowei—Gu Xiaowei, come back—”

Luo Yu shouted, but the other seemed to hear nothing.

The golden sunlight was so warm, yet a chill spread from Luo Yu’s blood to his bones. He pounded on the invisible wall but couldn’t reach Gu Xiaowei’s world.

Gu Xiaowei’s left foot lifted, ready to step off the rooftop. His arms hung naturally at his sides, fully relaxed, indifferent to the impending fall.

“No… No… Come back, Gu Xiaowei! I’m telling you to come back!”

Luo Yu felt like he was losing his mind. For the first time, he experienced a gut-wrenching sensation, watching as Gu Xiaowei crossed the boundary and fell.

“Gu Xiaowei—”

At that moment, Luo Yu realized that he wasn’t afraid of Gu Xiaowei’s death. What he feared was that when his flesh and blood crashed against the ground, he wouldn’t be there with him.

“Ahhhh—Gu Xiaowei—”

“I’m here! I’m here! Luo Yu, open your eyes! Look at me! I’m here!”

A familiar voice yanked Luo Yu back.

He opened his eyes with a jolt, staring into a pair of eyes full of worry and tension.

He took a deep breath, Gu Xiaowei’s scent filling his lungs, and the solidity of his embrace chased away his panic.

Turning around, he wrapped his arms around Gu Xiaowei’s neck. Gu Xiaowei, caught off guard, teetered back, but quickly stabilized himself, pressing his cheek against Luo Yu’s ear, letting him feel his warmth.

“It’s okay, Senior Brother. It’s okay. You had a nightmare.”

The words “senior brother” gave Luo Yu a sense of security he had never felt before, reassuring him that the person who came wasn’t Lu Pingfeng, but Gu Xiaowei.

Just then, Ye Shengyi and Brother Yan rushed over. And through Luo Yu’s open door, they saw the two holding each other tightly.

“Brother Luo! What happened? You shouted so loud!” Ye Shengyi asked.

“Yeah! You scared us!” Brother Yan was also deeply concerned.

Gu Xiaowei turned to them and said, “It’s okay, you two go back to sleep. Luo Yu just had a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” Ye Shengyi tilted his head, then pouted, “Then why did you only call Brother Gu’s name—I’d come to save you too!”

Brother Yan gave him a playful slap on the head. “What are you thinking? Go back to sleep!”

Ye Shengyi and Brother Yan left, but Luo Yu still clung tightly to Gu Xiaowei.

From the moment he realized it was just a dream, his emotions had already calmed. But being able to hold Gu Xiaowei like this, he naturally wanted to hold on as long as he could.

So, this is what Gu Xiaowei’s shoulder feels like.

Luo Yu felt like a schoolboy, secretly crushing on his deskmate, filled with little schemes to touch him—even just a tap on his fingernail would bring delight. Let alone this blatant embrace.

He waited for Gu Xiaowei to impatiently push him away, but a few minutes passed, and not only did Gu Xiaowei let him hold on, but his arms around Luo Yu stayed just as firm.

“Did you dream of me?” Gu Xiaowei asked softly.

In his voice, everything became soft and surreal.

“I dreamed that you fell from the rooftop,” Luo Yu muttered.

Gu Xiaowei’s brows furrowed deeply, his embrace tightening instinctively.

“I’m sorry… If it wasn’t for what I said to you that night… you wouldn’t have had that dream…”

After a long silence, Luo Yu finally spoke, “Gu Xiaowei, the person you envisioned must’ve been perfect. I’m grateful for your fantasy—at least he kept you from falling. This isn’t something I can do…”

Gu Xiaowei was about to say something, but Luo Yu continued, “But I am your only rival. I am real—I’d be willing to fall with you.”

With a sudden pause in breath and heartbeat, Gu Xiaowei gently lowered Luo Yu back onto the bed in their embrace. “If you’re there, I guarantee I won’t fall.”

Without you, I would crash into the world with no regard for anything.

But for you, I’ll fight against everything, even myself.

Hearing Gu Xiaowei’s promise, Luo Yu’s taut nerves relaxed. His arms loosened, and he didn’t know how to ask Gu Xiaowei to stay. To his surprise, Gu Xiaowei lay down beside him, gently brushing his fingers through Luo Yu’s hair. “Sleep now, I’ll be right here. I won’t go anywhere.”

Luo Yu gave a soft “en” as his breathing slowed, and he drifted back to sleep.

Far off, the sky was gradually lightening, a gentle glow falling over the distant rose trellis, blossoming with a touch of innocent beauty.

Gu Xiaowei lay on his side, watching him.

He had awakened countless times from nightmares, thinking he was the only one who would panic over loss. But tonight, he had heard his name called just as desperately. Even the coldest heart would soften at such a moment.

Suddenly, he thought about when Luo Yu stuffed the roll into his mouth today. His fingertips were like a match striking, igniting a spark with remarkable skill. Yet, he hadn’t managed to bite down hard on him and punish him for showing up uninvited.

Just now, Luo Yu had called his name with such intensity—was this permission to cross the line?

Gu Xiaowei lifted Luo Yu’s hand. Luo Yu’s fingers were elegantly shaped, nails neatly trimmed. With a sigh, Gu Xiaowei was about to let go, but Luo Yu shifted closer to him, nudging against him.

Gu Xiaowei’s heart softened. He slid his arm under Luo Yu’s neck, and Luo Yu followed the movement, placing one hand between their faces. Just as Gu Xiaowei was about to move, Luo Yu’s hand shifted, and his ring finger brushed against Gu Xiaowei’s lips.

Gu Xiaowei froze, breath caught in his throat. Slowly, carefully, he closed his lips around Luo Yu’s finger, savoring the feel—it was completely different from feeding him the roll. It was as if all of Luo Yu’s thoughts and emotions had come to a standstill just for him.

He kept the light contact, breathing out softly as he held the fingertip, eyes closed in quiet contentment.

It was unclear how long they stayed like that before Luo Yu, lying on Gu Xiaowei’s arm, opened his eyes, gazing at Gu Xiaowei’s peaceful sleeping face with a look of satisfaction.

Since they had stayed up so late, both slept until midday.

The noon sunlight shone harshly, piercing through the curtains and falling right on Luo Yu’s eyelids.

“Ugh,” he frowned, instinctively trying to rub his eyes, only to feel his finger joints lightly pressed by something.

His heart skipped a beat, and he opened his eyes to meet Gu Xiaowei’s gaze as he lifted his lids.

Their eyes met, and the depth in Gu Xiaowei’s gaze made Luo Yu’s blood pump back toward his heart. He sat up abruptly, rubbing his head. “You… you stayed with me the whole time…”

“Because you called my name so loudly,” Gu Xiaowei said slowly, sitting up and leaning back, looking at Luo Yu. “Is it because of that scene involving the psychiatrist? Were you worried about me, thinking about it even in your dreams?”

“Probably.” Luo Yu turned his face away, embarrassed, scratching his head. “I was just worrying over nothing; don’t mind it.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Propping himself up with one hand, Gu Xiaowei looked up at Luo Yu with a serious expression. “Senior Brother, you weren’t worrying for nothing. Every time I feel myself becoming more like Lu Pingfeng, I see you and remember I’m still Gu Xiaowei.”

Just then, there was a tentative knock. Ye Shengyi’s voice came through, “Brother Gu, Brother Luo… are you awake? Do you want to eat lunch?”

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In-Progress, Top Dupe

Top Dupe CH 086 Control Part 2

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The clapperboard sounded alongside the thunder, as lightning and thunder lit up the distant sky, occasionally casting a glow on the window.

“Mm…” Wen Yuchi murmured softly but didn’t wake up. He simply drew his legs onto the sofa, pulled the coat draped on the sofa over himself, and continued sleeping.

In the scene’s dark atmosphere, as though the darkness was about to descend, Wen Yuchi seemed like prey completely oblivious to danger, calm and serene under the thunder and lightning.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

The boiling kettle gradually fell silent; the red light at the bottom turned off, indicating either a power cut or a tripped circuit.

It felt like a sinister omen.

The entire room dimmed, leaving only the sound of the heavy rain outside, as though it would fill the world.

The thunder grew closer, creating a heart-stopping tension, but Wen Yuchi’s mind seemed submerged in another realm.

His slightly ajar apartment door creaked open, just faintly, almost drowned out by the thunder.

A tall figure stepped into the room, strolling in lazily as though unconcerned about being noticed by Wen Yuchi. At the same time, every step he took was silent, blending into the darkness, until he reached the sofa and gazed down, quietly and patiently, at the sleeping Wen Yuchi.

Though an uninvited shadow, he watched over Wen Yuchi with an air of natural entitlement, even tilting his head in a gentle and careful manner.

The rain continued. He seemed like a defiant observer peeking at a sliver of light, with no lines but an aura of complete restraint and self-control, as though roses were blooming in his blood, their calyxes and thorns tearing through veins and heart. Even though his mind screamed in pain, he maintained his silence—for if Wen Yuchi were to wake up, his judging gaze might be no different from the world’s.

And then all illusions would be shattered.

A flash of lightning lit up the room, illuminating the intruder’s face.

Cold and sharp as though chiseled from stone.

Then a thunderclap rumbled, causing the whole building to shudder.

Wen Yuchi jolted awake, his shoulder twitching. Before his eyes had fully opened, he sensed someone standing by his sofa.

His instincts kicked in, and he tensed to spring up, but the other person’s hand suddenly gripped his throat, pinning him back onto the sofa with a knee pressing down on his abdomen.

Wen Yuchi’s eyes widened, his body taut, and his first reaction was to grab the other person’s fingers. But the grip was unexpectedly strong, and with both hands, he could only barely prevent the fingers from crushing his throat.

But if they wanted to kill him, why use only one hand?

And the feel of this hand… that wrist… seemed familiar.

Wen Yuchi looked up at his assailant in silhouette, breathing in a scent both refreshing and faintly heated, as if a chemical reaction had occurred. Combined with the dampness of the rain, it accelerated his heartbeat, an invisible something tearing at a membrane over his heart—not pain, but a kind of addictive torment.

His gaze met a pair of deep, enigmatic eyes, apparently cold but simmering with a hidden fire, rising from the depths to a rolling boil. Wen Yuchi had, for the first time, the illusion that his gaze was burning.

Another flash of lightning outlined the person’s elegant features, and for an instant, Wen Yuchi wondered if this person had somehow fused with his soul, their gaze like a celestial tide flowing through his veins.

They drew closer, hair slipping down, almost brushing Wen Yuchi’s cheek though there was still a gap, the restrained aura searing as if his senses were stripped.

“Mr. Lu… how did you get in?”

As Wen Yuchi realized who it was, he released his grip.

As expected, the hand at his throat immediately lightened, holding his neck with just enough pressure to make its presence known without constricting his breathing.

“You didn’t close the door,” Lu Pingfeng’s voice was cold, his tone utterly calm, yet it sounded gentle against the sound of torrential rain.

“You can let go now. If there hadn’t been a power outage, I could have offered you some hot…” Wen Yuchi glanced toward the kitchen, where the kettle’s water had likely cooled, “instant coffee.”

“I came here to kill you. Just like I killed Dr. Kong… I have countless ways to stage the crime scene as an accident. I could, for example, ignite the gas in your apartment.”

Lu Pingfeng’s features held a naturally intense beauty in the darkness, as if concealing countless secrets and madness, alluring to anyone who thought they couldn’t be ensnared.

But Wen Yuchi easily crossed that line, for he saw those shadows as no different from those cast by drifting clouds on the ground.

“Lu Pingfeng, how many bottles of medicine did you return to Mrs. Kong?”

“One,” Lu Pingfeng answered.

“A bottle has no more than twenty-four tablets, which matches Dr. Kong’s prescription,” Wen Yuchi said.

“So?”

“So what? I checked that medication. Taking all twenty-four pills isn’t enough to cause Dr. Kong’s psychosis. The dose he took was double what you were prescribed. Think about it—could a single glass of wine dissolve such a large amount, or was his tongue numb?”

Wen Yuchi’s lips curved slightly, his gaze shimmering with a sly glint, like the faintest note of a string causing Lu Pingfeng’s heart to resonate.

“So… Dr. Kong didn’t die from the pills I returned.”

Lu Pingfeng’s hand left Wen Yuchi’s throat, and he stepped back, sitting on the small coffee table.

“I’m not a detective, nor am I responsible for solving cases or making assumptions,” Wen Yuchi murmured.

But in truth, Wen Yuchi had already revealed the truth to Lu Pingfeng.

For Dr. Kong to drink wine containing such a high dose of the drug, he must have done so willingly, perhaps with intent.

Whether he wanted an excuse to punish his wife or experience a taste of madness didn’t matter to Wen Yuchi or Lu Pingfeng anymore.

“Actually, when I arrived at the crime scene and first saw the blood on that wall, I was captivated. They were complex, unrestrained, like a vast flood,” Lu Pingfeng said.

Wen Yuchi shrugged with a smile, “Every time I dissect a human body, I find the organs, blood vessels, muscles, and even the fat to be intricate and subtle—a masterpiece by the Creator.”

We each, in our own fields, set aside human emotion to objectively appreciate the beauty within.

Lu Pingfeng’s shoulders lowered slightly, his entire posture relaxed.

All the absurd details carved into his heart seemed to smooth out.

Outside, lightning continued to flash and thunder boomed, rain pouring down, obscuring the world.

Yet, in this small apartment, Lu Pingfeng felt as though he’d experienced a tidal surge of moonrise and sunset, seeing the reflection of another soul in the ebb.

Wen Yuchi sat up slowly, lazily ruffling his hair, his tired eyes gleaming with clarity, “Mr. Lu, I’m a forensic pathologist; I speak with corpses. I only believe the facts they reveal.”

“So I won’t be so presumptuous about you… You can step into my world without worry.”

“I’m a painter. I converse with death, and I only believe in the certain beauty of death,” Lu Pingfeng said to Wen Yuchi with a smile.

And you, you exist outside of death.

You may not have arrived in formal attire, but you’re everything I’ve dreamed of.

“Coffee?”

After a short nap and a slight “scare” from Lu Pingfeng, Wen Yuchi was now three parts awake. He walked to the kitchen, touched the kettle, finding it lukewarm.

“Though I don’t have the elegance of hand-brewed coffee, this jar is still the aristocrat of instant coffee.”

Lu Pingfeng walked over, took the large glass jar from Wen Yuchi’s hand, and placed it back on the shelf.

“What you should be drinking isn’t coffee, but milk.”

“I’d like to have some instant noodles, but the power’s out now!” Wen Yuchi complained.

Lu Pingfeng turned and walked toward the door. Wen Yuchi raised his hand slightly. “Come on… Because I don’t have hand-brewed coffee, you’re going to leave without even saying goodbye?”

Who would’ve guessed that Lu Pingfeng instead brought over a small box from the shelf by the entrance.

“Pastries.”

Wen Yuchi tilted his head slightly. “Don’t tell me it’s red velvet cake in there.”

“Why? Do you feel nauseous at the sight of red velvet cake because you found traces of it in a victim’s stomach?”

“Then you’re underestimating me. I’ve handled countless victims, with every possible food in their stomachs. If that alone made me nauseous, I’d probably live on nutritional supplements.” Wen Yuchi opened the box and found various flavors of Swiss rolls inside.

He casually took a piece and took a big bite. The sweetness was just right, soft and delicious, instantly soothing his empty stomach.

As Wen Yuchi reached for a second piece, the cue sounded that the scene was finished. 

Everyone on set snapped back to reality from their engrossed viewing of the scene.

This scene had been incredibly immersive.

When Lu Pingfeng first appeared, he created an almost suffocating tension. Gu Xiaowei’s performance was different from the audition, bringing a duality to the character.

Standing by Wen Yuchi’s sofa, he treated him with gentle restraint, but the moment he grabbed Wen Yuchi, the aura of aggression and killing intent was instantly unleashed.

At this moment, Luo Yu was holding the box of Swiss rolls, stuffing the last bite into his mouth, and casually holding up another piece to Gu Xiaowei’s mouth. “Want some?”

Before Gu Xiaowei could answer, the director shouted over the megaphone, “Eat, eat, eat! Who said you could eat the props?! Who told you that one take means we’re done filming?! Everyone, get back into position! Swiss rolls, replace them! One more take!”

Luo Yu, looking baffled, held the Swiss roll and tried to figure out the best angle to put it back.

But Gu Xiaowei walked over, pressed down his own collar, raised Luo Yu’s wrist, and bit into the Swiss roll right in front of the director.

The bustling set fell silent.

Sheng Yunlan widened his eyes as he looked at the two of them, picking up the megaphone to shout, only for the staff to quickly reassure him, “There’s more! Plenty of Swiss rolls left!”

Gu Xiaowei continued to eat the roll from Luo Yu’s hand, slowly, finishing one side before turning to the other side.

From Luo Yu’s angle, it almost looked like he was kissing with the Swiss roll. Each time his heart would leap, carefully avoiding Gu Xiaowei’s lips yet secretly hoping he might actually touch them.

Gu Xiaowei’s eyelashes were long; when he lowered his eyes, he seemed gentle, and when he looked up, he was inexplicably captivating.

So close now… Admiring beauty is a natural instinct, Luo Yu thought, as he watched Gu Xiaowei lick off the cream from the corner of his mouth with a flash of subtle red hue, feeling his heartbeat speed up.

Fine, Gu Xiaowei—whether you’re deliberately approaching me or just being friendly, I’ve decided I’ll do as I please.

With that last bit of roll in his hand, Luo Yu took advantage of Gu Xiaowei’s distraction to push it all into his mouth, letting his fingers briefly brush against him.

That fleeting softness made Luo Yu’s heart tremble.

He could feel Gu Xiaowei’s lips pressing down a bit, perhaps afraid the roll might fall, or maybe to keep Luo Yu’s fingers there a moment longer.

But whatever the reason, Luo Yu avoided his gaze, turned, and handed the pastry box to the crew.

“Sorry, we ate the props. Could you add two more pieces?”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Sure thing, no problem.”

Director Sheng then picked up the megaphone and called out, “If you two dare eat the props again, believe me, I’ll shoot this scene until morning! Let’s see if you’ll keep eating then!”

Luo Yu folded his hands together in an apologetic gesture toward Director Sheng. “So sorry! So sorry! It tasted so good, couldn’t stop after one bite.”

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In-Progress, Top Dupe

Top Dupe CH 086 Control Part 1

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Jiang Yinchuan planned to independently produce dramas and movies in the future. Some roles were impactful but had few scenes, often requiring a search among extras at the set, which was time-consuming and didn’t always yield good results.

Luo Yu had suggested that there were quite a few seasoned actors among the extras. Although they might look ordinary, their lines and expressions were no less skilled than those of formally trained actors. They could be signed for long-term collaboration; as long as they acted sincerely, they could be cultivated into “golden supporting actors,” which would also reflect the company’s strength.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Jiang Yinchuan decided to adopt Luo Yu’s suggestion, and the first “golden supporting actor” he had in mind was Brother Long.

When Brother Long received the invitation to sign, he was overwhelmed with joy and deeply grateful to Yinchuan Culture for the opportunity. This renewed his motivation for acting.

He shared Luo Yu’s sword dance video, sincerely praising, [Though I’m just a rough guy, it doesn’t stop me from thinking this dude is truly cool!]

Han Yang, after watching the video, called Jiang Yinchuan again to confirm that, after the filming of “Beast and Rose”, and a short Olympic-themed series, Luo Yu’s schedule would be open afterward for the drama he was planning.

“Don’t worry, when have I, Jiang Yinchuan, ever broken a promise? Luo Yu is also very trustworthy! But the main focus now is for Screenwriter Hua to hurry up with the script, isn’t it?”

Since *”Counterattack” aired, Jiang Yinchuan’s phone had nearly exploded with calls. Everyone could see that Luo Yu was already popular and would only become more so. Any more waiting, and it would be years before his schedule would open up.

When dealing with reasonable people, Jiang Yinchuan would respectfully listen to their proposals.

As for those who relied on past collaborations to demand that Jiang Yinchuan assign Luo Yu to their projects, Jiang Yinchuan had one attitude: “Luo Yu is not just a company actor; he’s also a founding shareholder. I can’t dictate where my shareholder goes—he decides for himself.”

On the other hand, Ou Juntao’s concerns were entirely different from Jiang Yinchuan’s.

He had just watched Luo Yu’s sword dance—so powerful and beautiful, as if the blade could cut through the night breeze. Each turn, each swing of the sword, stole sight and heartbeat alike. That taut waistline, full of energy…

Ou Juntao swallowed; he couldn’t resist replaying it over and over, his mind filled with endless thoughts.

But Gao He’s call disrupted everything.

“Chairman Ou, after watching Luo Yu’s sword dance video, the director of the “Wolf Smoke” crew consulted with the producer and investors. They want to replace He Mu and cast Luo Yu as the young general. They’re very firm about this.”

Every time Ou Juntao heard the name “He Mu”, his head throbbed.

“And then?”

“Jiang Yinchuan’s side refused, due to scheduling conflicts.”

This was the only bit of good news.

“Did He Mu really injure his back on the wire stunt?” Ou Juntao asked coldly.

“I heard… it was because the female lead, Ai Cheng, has been a fan of Luo Yu recently. She’s been watching Luo Yu’s videos during breaks and recommending him to others when not filming. This stirred the whole crew into watching “Counterattack”, and He Mu got into a quarrel with her, saying some unpleasant things, which led Ai Cheng to give him the cold shoulder.”

Ou Juntao’s fingers turned white from clenching, “Are these two idiots? Go and tell He Mu that if he doesn’t get back to filming immediately, he shouldn’t bother accepting any more jobs! Doesn’t he realize his resources are deteriorating? And Ai Cheng—if she likes Luo Yu that much, tell her to ask Jiang Yinchuan if he’d take her on!”

Previously, Ou Juntao had indulged He Mu, hoping he’d get conceited and make things difficult for Luo Yu.

But now… with just one “Counterattack”, Luo Yu had gained incredible attention. And with “Counterattack” not yet finished, “Storm” was already scheduled for release. With these two dramas airing consecutively, Ou Juntao could imagine that the Yunwen Award for Most Popular Supporting Actor would likely go to Luo Yu this year—or, at the very least, he’d be nominated. And there was the professional Kirin Award, where Luo Yu would almost certainly receive a nomination.

At 10:20 PM, Luo Yu and Gu Xiaowei’s van pulled up in front of the youth apartment complex.

The surroundings were quiet; the light from the streetlamp illuminated the ground, bright yet giving off an eerie emptiness.

Luo Yu’s cheek was gently patted, and Gu Xiaowei’s voice sounded beside his ear, “We’re here, wake up.”

“En…” Luo Yu sat up, just about to rub his eyes when Gu Xiaowei caught his wrist, “Don’t rub. Smudging your eye makeup will mean more touch-ups.”

Only then did Luo Yu fully wake up. When he looked up, he met Gu Xiaowei’s gaze.

The light from the streetlamp filtered in through the window, and though Gu Xiaowei’s features were backlit, they didn’t carry the cold detachment of his sleepwalking performance.

Instead, there was a kind of warmth that melted the darkness.

Luo Yu stifled a laugh, “You know… tonight, you’re supposed to choke me in this scene. Being so considerate now, I’m wondering if you’ll even be able to go through with it.”

Gu Xiaowei paused slightly.

He knew very well that his current state of mind was his own; all the tenderness was genuinely for Luo Yu.

He found that he hadn’t fallen into character but had, in fact, retained his sense of self.

“Gu Xiaowei? Teacher Gu? Classmate Gu?” Luo Yu leaned closer, noticing Gu Xiaowei’s silence and looking worriedly at his expression.

The next second, Gu Xiaowei suddenly reached out and gripped Luo Yu’s throat, his Adam’s apple lightly bobbing under Gu Xiaowei’s palm as he reacted in surprise.

In that moment, Gu Xiaowei felt an illusion of control over this person.

“Do you think I won’t be able to choke you?” Gu Xiaowei lowered his gaze and looked at him.

Luo Yu’s hair was slightly disheveled, framing his eyes as he looked back in slight bewilderment, evidently not expecting Gu Xiaowei to suddenly strike.

Gu Xiaowei leaned closer and closer, his gaze growing colder, until his waist was sharply pinched by Luo Yu.

“Ow…” Gu Xiaowei let go of Luo Yu, leaning back against the van door.

“Ha, I finally succeeded once.” Luo Yu rubbed his own throat, “And you call that choking? You’re not even intimidating. Now, this is how you pinch.”

Luo Yu opened the van door with a flourish, the night breeze noticeably absent.

He deliberately swaggered past Gu Xiaowei as he stepped out.

The air seemed compressed by some invisible force, frozen and motionless.

The crew had already entered the apartment complex; inside, a model apartment represented Wen Yuchi’s “home.”

Ye Shengyi followed Luo Yu into the elevator, holding a makeup case.

After waiting a moment without seeing Gu Xiaowei enter, Luo Yu asked, “Where’s Teacher Gu?”

“He seems to still be in the van.”

Luo Yu frowned, wondering if his joke had unsettled Gu Xiaowei. Was Gu Xiaowei staying in the van to prepare emotionally? Luo Yu thought about going to check on him.

But if Gu Xiaowei was truly getting into character, interrupting him would ruin his focus.

“We’ll go up first. My scenes is up first,” Luo Yu said.

This was Luo Yu’s first time seeing Wen Yuchi’s “home.” It was clear the crew had put in effort. Being close to the resort, moving equipment and shooting was easy, and the layout matched Luo Yu’s imagination.

Upon entering, one could see a fabric couch with several wrinkled shirts and jackets strewn across its back, fitting Wen Yuchi’s lifestyle as a forensic pathologist who often worked late—returning too exhausted to tidy up.

In front of the couch was a small, round coffee table, unlike the large, modern glass tables in the resort villa; this one looked affordable, something you might find at Ikea.

Opposite the couch was a modest TV.

Adjacent to the living room was an open kitchen. On the counter was a cup rack with a few mugs hanging, and a knife set was by the stove.

The camera positions were set, and adjustments were underway.

Luo Yu lay on the couch, testing out the spot, as the lighting crew fine-tuned the lights.

Everything was ready, but the thunderstorm hadn’t yet arrived.

Director Sheng signaled to film Wen Yuchi’s return home.

Ye Shengyi adjusted Luo Yu’s makeup, and with the director’s approval, Luo Yu went to the door. He closed his eyes, gathering his emotions, took a deep breath, and slipped into Wen Yuchi’s state.

Wen Yuchi was still in the clothes he’d worn for the luminol test at Lu Pingfeng’s villa, visibly weary.

The sound of a turning lock broke the silence as Wen Yuchi opened his apartment door and casually nudged it shut.

The camera zoomed in to reveal that the door didn’t fully close, leaving a dark sliver, as if it led to another world. Perhaps an eye or a claw would emerge from the gap. But after a few seconds, it simply remained the same.

Wen Yuchi’s first action was to turn on the light. With a “click,” the whole room was bathed in a soft, warm orange glow.

He walked slowly to the sofa, instinctively picking up the clothes draped over it. He might have intended to tidy them up, but after taking a deep breath, he put them down again.

His stomach growled, so he went to the kitchen, lifted the kettle, and turned on the tap. While waiting for the kettle to fill, Wen Yuchi tilted his head back and closed his eyes, looking like he could fall asleep standing up.

Only when water began to overflow from the kettle did Wen Yuchi snap back to awareness.

He quickly turned off the tap, poured out the excess water, set the kettle on its base, and finally, the water began to boil.

Taking advantage of the break while the water boiled, Wen Yuchi returned to the sofa and sank down onto it. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and as the hum of boiling water filled the room, he slowly rolled onto his side and fell asleep.

This sense of exhaustion was portrayed so realistically.

Without a single line, he drew the audience into Wen Yuchi’s weariness.

After a quiet few seconds, a faint glow appeared in the distance outside the window, followed by distant thunder.

The long-awaited storm had finally arrived.

The sound of heavy rain grew louder in the distance, and flashes of lightning and thunder came closer and closer.

The previously stifling air finally began to flow.

“Good! Get ready for the next scene! Quick, quick!” Sheng Yunlan shouted.

“Where’s Teacher Gu? Lu Pingfeng’s scene is about to start!” The scene manager called out through a megaphone.

“Teacher Gu is here! He’s just outside the door!”

Luo Yu continued lying on the sofa, motionless, as if the bustling activity around him had nothing to do with him; he had truly fallen asleep.

His face tilted slightly to the side, a strand of hair clinging to his cheek, and the distant thunder did not cause his eyelids to flutter even slightly.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Sheng Yunlan was very pleased with Luo Yu’s state; this was not just acting but a professional dedication that ensured the consistency of his posture between scenes.

Gu Xiaowei had already arrived at the door. This scene was one they had rehearsed during the audition.

Who knew what kind of surprise these two might bring after working together for a few days? The whole crew was anticipating it.

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Feline Mystique, In-Progress

Feline Mystique CH 015 Chaos And Camaraderie

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Felix watched nervously. “Virgil, wait—what are you planning this time?”

Virgil grinned, producing a garish pink wig, a floral kimono-style wrap, oversized rhinestone encrusted sunglasses and an equally gaudy string of fake pearls from his seemingly bottomless bag. “Just trust me.”

“No, absolutely not—” Felix began, but Virgil was already wrapping himself in the kimono and donning the wig. Before anyone could stop him, he darted into the crowd, adjusting his ensemble on the go.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Virgil bulldozed through the throng of fans with dramatic flair, his voice rising to an earsplitting wail. “Sorath, you traitor!”

The crowd parted in stunned silence as Virgil pushed to the front, brandishing a fake handkerchief he’d somehow conjured.

“How could you?” Virgil shrieked, dabbing at the tears streaming down his face—or at least convincingly mimicked tears, thanks to the sunglasses that hid part of his face and a conveniently squirted water bottle hidden up his sleeve.

Felix’s mouth dropped open as he watched from the sidelines, horrified. “What is he doing?!”

Virgil continued, clutching at his chest as if mortally wounded. “I gave you my best years! My love! And this is how you repay me? Flaunting yourself in front of all these strangers like I meant nothing to you!”

The fans and admirers looked on, their expressions torn between shock and morbid fascination. It was like watching a train wreck—horrible, but impossible to look away.

“Wait… is that really his ex?” someone whispered.
“Did Mister Mzia have a secret lover?” another speculated.

Virgil leaned heavily on a lamppost as if his legs couldn’t hold up his weight from the grief, sobbing dramatically. “I can’t go on without you, Sorath! If you don’t take me back, I’ll… I’ll throw myself off the nearest building!”

The crowd collectively gasped, some even raising their phones to record the spectacle. 

The absurdity of the scene was enough to draw attention away from Sorath, who was frozen in disbelief and flushing red with outrage. He was so flabbergasted, he almost missed the advantage provided by the distraction to make his getaway. 

Luckily, Felix, now hiding behind the edge of his hoodie, hurried forward and grabbed Sorath by the wrist. He hissed sharply, “Come on,” pulling him away from the crowd.

All the while, he was muttering a mantra under his breath, “I don’t know him. I’ve never seen this man in my life—”

By the time Virgil finished his impromptu performance, Sorath was safely out of sight, and the group reconvened at a quieter corner of the street.

When Virgil rejoined the group, his wig askew and fake pearls rattling, the crowd had dispersed, still abuzz with the scandalous scene. Sorath leaned against the wall of a corner store a few feet away, his face twisted in a grimace.

“That,” Sorath said flatly, “was disturbing. Now I have to worry about my reputation taking a hit. Wasn’t there another way?”

“Effective, though, and that’s all you need,” Virgil replied with a smug grin, tossing the disguises back into his bag. He sounded completely unconcerned about his true identity being found out and becoming a public embarrassment himself. 

In fact, Felix almost suspected that Virgil would even relish in it and the ensuing conniption he would send his uptight parents into.

Albrecht crossed his arms, looking thoroughly disdainful. “St. Lilith, you’ve somehow managed to sink to an entirely new low. Congratulations.”

Even Thel, usually so judgemental, arched an eyebrow. “I… have no words.”

Virgil shrugged, unbothered. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Felix sighed, pulling his hood further over his head. And as if asking the universe, “Why do these things always happen?”

As the group walked away from the scene, Sorath finally broke the unexpectedly comfortable silence. “For the record, this is why I hate being recognized. Fame sucks.”

“You were Mister Mzia, right?” Felix asked, still processing the revelation. No wonder Sorath attracted such a crowd back at the Pet Bureau that day of the choosing ceremony. They were just lucky that everyone was more concerned about meeting their new master or pet.

Sorath grumbled, kicking at a stray pebble. “Unfortunately.”

Virgil, munching on a chocolate bar, interjected, “So says the guy who won Mister Mzia, the most prestigious beauty pageant in town, other than Miss Mzia of course.”

Sorath shot him a glare. “That wasn’t by choice. I was twenty, for crying out loud. You think I want to parade around in front of cameras and judges like some… showpiece?

“My mother strong-armed me into it. It was all part of her plan to position me as the perfect pet for some elite Regal One.”

Albrecht nodded knowingly. “The Goodwine family, correct? Renowned for their connections, through marriages and the master/pet bonds. Your mother is quite the matriarch.”

“‘Connections’ is putting it mildly,” Sorath muttered, a bitter edge to his voice. “She’s obsessed with status and appearances. Everything we did growing up was orchestrated by her. This pageant nonsense was just the latest scheme. Entering me into Mister Mzia was just another way to climb the social ladder.”

Felix patted his arm commiseratingly. “That sounds rough. Did you ever try to tell her no?”

Sorath let out a dry laugh. “You don’t say no to my mother. Not unless you want to be disowned.”

“What about your father?” Felix asked hopefully.

Sorath snorted, “Him? He doesn’t have a single thought of his own. Must’ve been why she chose to marry him in the first place.”

“…” A controlling mother and a deadbeat father? Felix regretted asking.

Virgil, now making his way through a bag of cheese chips, quipped, “I hear you. But at least you only have mommy issues. Try having both of them breathing down your necks.”

“I, for one, think you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. No matter the motives, at least your mother did it all with your future in mind.” Thel suddenly cut in coldly.

Felix was reminded again that Thel was an orphan and a prestigious event like Mister Mzia wasn’t an opportunity that just anyone could have.

Sorath looked frustrated but didn’t deny it. “She’s… complicated. I know she thinks she’s doing what’s best for the family, but sometimes it feels like I’m just a pawn in her game.”

Felix studied Sorath’s expression, noting the tired unhappiness beneath his usual bravado. “You’re more than that, you know. Whatever your mother’s plans were, they don’t define you. Especially now that you have come of age and have your own life now.”

Sorath blinked, sensing the sincerity in Felix’s tone. A faint smile crossed his lips, taking on that familiar roguish edge once again. “Thanks, Felix. You’re right. I’m no longer under her thumb. I’m at the mercy of my cute master now.”

Felix flushed. Did he have to say it like that?! And that wasn’t what he meant!

Virgil smirked, nudging Felix with his elbow. “Look at you, playing the protective master who supports his pets. So wholesome.”

Felix elbowed him back with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t suppress a small smile. 

As the group continued their outing, the heavier subject of difficult family members began to dissipate. Felix couldn’t help but feel like he had a better understanding of his unusual companions.

They were a handful, no doubt, but moments like these reminded him that they were more than just pets or responsibilities. They were individuals, each with their own stories, struggles, and strengths.

And somehow, Felix thought, as Sorath cracked a joke to lighten the mood and Virgil tried to convince everyone to try anchovy flavored lollipops, they were starting to feel a little like a family.

As the sun began to set, the group made their way back to Sphinx Tower, laden with shopping bags and snacks. Despite the chaos of the day, there was a newfound sense of camaraderie among them.

Virgil lounged on the carpet, munching on seaweed crackers from his neverending snack stash. Albrecht sifted through fancy boxes of clothes with a critical eye, while Thel quietly read one of his new books. Sorath stretched out on an armchair, looking unusually relaxed.

Felix flopped onto the couch and watched them under half-lidded eyes. It had been a tiring day, but it had to be said that Thel was right to include “team-building” activities if this was the result—them beginning to find their place, not just in his life, but in each other’s as well.

(Though, Felix had some doubts that Thel’s idea of team-building probably didn’t look anything like how it turned out today.)

“Tomorrow,” Felix muttered to himself, “we’re staying in.”

Virgil overheard and grinned. “Good luck with that.”

Felix picked up a candy wrapper and threw it at him. Virgil returned fire, only to miss and hit Albrecht. Well, that disturbed the hornet’s nest and the living room soon devolved into flying goose feathers from pillows, rolled up tissue paper printed with fancy brand logos and colorful snack wrappers.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Even as Felix bemoaned the cleanup afterwards while diving behind the couch, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

His life had become a lot more interesting—and maybe even a little brighter—with these four by his side.

AN: Thoughts on an official non-ai generated cover?

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In-Progress, The Kingdom That Never Sleeps

The Kingdom That Never Sleeps CH 082 End Of The Act

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Compared to other prime ministers’ residences, the Left Prime Minister’s residence could truly be considered humble.

After the teacher and student finished their meal, they wiped their hands with damp cloths and headed to Ji Wengji’s study.

As soon as the door opened, the scent of old ink and paper filled the air. Ji Wengji entered the study, took out a few books, and handed them to Zhao Jing. Zhao Jing received the books with both hands.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Ji Wengji said, “The roads in Qinzhou are rugged, with mountains upon mountains. Who knows when we will meet again? While you’re there, read more books. When you return to the capital, we can talk again.”

Zhao Jing responded, “I understand, Sir.”

After gifting some books, the teacher and student bid farewell.

Zhao Jing bowed deeply, raising his hands high, and said, “I hope to see you again in Shengjing, Sir.”

Ji Wengji smiled and said, “Go on.”

Zhao Jing turned and left, not once looking back. That afternoon, a light carriage carrying a few boxes of books left Shengjing. By evening, several carriages loaded with clothing and luggage also left from the residence of the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue. After traveling about ten miles outside the city, it reached a small pavilion. Qin Si, the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, lifted the curtain of the carriage and his eyes brightened as he ordered the driver to stop.

The carriage stopped, and Qin Si, dressed in plain clothes, hurried to the pavilion and greeted, “Guilty official Qin Si greets the Minister.”

Amidst the swirling yellow sand on the ancient road, in the small, simple pavilion, the person who had been waiting for Qin Si was none other than Wang Zhen.

Wang Zhen looked him up and down and said gently, “Qin daren has lost quite a bit of weight.”

Qin Si felt bitter inside.

Since the incident in Guangling at the beginning of the year, he had been placed under house arrest by the emperor, and nearly half a year had passed. Even a healthy person would grow thin under such circumstances, burdened by endless worries. Qin Si said, “This guilty official has failed you, Minister, unable to handle the affairs of the Ministry of Revenue and the Revenue And Expenditure Department.”

Wang Zhen was surprised, “You didn’t handle it well?”

“Daren?”

“Whenever the sky is clear, dark clouds always seem to obscure the sun, followed by a downpour. But after the rain, the sun shines brighter than before. Don’t you think, Qin daren?”

Qin Si’s expression grew complicated, and after a long sigh, he replied, “Yes.”

Wang Zhen smiled without saying more.

Using the pretext of the 23 Articles of Tax Reform, Wang Quan attempted to covertly implement “paper currency” without drawing attention from the noble families. However, this path ended in failure, implicating both Zhao Jing and Qin Si, who were banished to distant places.

Successfully handling the Revenue And Expenditure Department would have been a great accomplishment, and Qin Si knew that. But behind every success lies risk, and he was aware he was working for Wang Quan and Wang Zhen. In this political struggle, both he and Zhao Jing had failed, leading to mutual destruction. Yet, Qin Si still held on to hope, which was why he eagerly looked out at the pavilion outside the city.

And sure enough, he saw Wang Zhen!

Qin Si remained silent, waiting for Wang Zhen to give him an explanation.

Wang Zhen did not disappoint him.

“I heard Yu De loves the pastries from Caiqi House. It only has a branch in Shengjing, nowhere else. Wouldn’t it be a lifelong regret if you could no longer have them?”

Qin Si’s eyes brightened. “Daren…”

Wang Zhen smiled, “If you like them, then eat as many as you can.”

As the sun set in the west and the moon rose in the east, Wang Zhen and his manservant stood in the pavilion, watching the three carriages carrying Qin Yude depart from Shengjing. Qin Si sat in the carriage, holding the pastries Wang Zhen had gifted him. He opened the box and ate one, surprising Madam Qin.

“Doesn’t husband usually dislike pastries and sweets?”

Qin Si laughed heartily, “My dear, from now on, I, Qin Yude, will love them!”

The political struggle between the two factions had its gains and losses, but after this incident, the Revenue And Expenditure Department would never reopen.

Zhao Fu had once rebuked the powerful ministers in Chuigong Hall, questioning if they truly believed that the founding emperor abolished the Three Departments just to weaken the ministerial power and strengthen imperial authority. The room fell silent; no one dared answer. Among those present, besides the emperor and a few high-ranking officials, there was also a chamberlain and a junior chamberlain.

Unfortunately, these two were dull-headed. Though loyal, they always turned a deaf ear to matters they dared not listen to or think about.

Much later, Wang Zhen mentioned this in jest to Tang Shen.

Tang Shen nearly laughed out loud.

The founding emperor?

The founding emperor was nothing but a brute!

A rough general who seized the throne from the battlefield!

What else could the founding emperor have wanted to do besides weakening the ministerial power by abolishing the Three Departments? Could he really have conceived of more intricate schemes?

Zhao Fu, borrowing the “tiger skin” of the founding emperor, silenced the four prime ministers, preventing them from ever mentioning the reopening of the Three Departments. After the Revenue And Expenditure Department incident, the Ji and Wang factions both suffered losses, but only Zhao Fu remained unaffected, comfortably watching his ministers scramble for power and profit.

But did only the emperor benefit?

Zhao Jing was demoted, Ji Wengji lost a major supporter in court, and Zhao Fu felt more at ease with him.

Qin Si was demoted, and Wang Zhen lost a capable subordinate. Zhao Fu’s newly appointed Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue was aligned with Left Prime Minister Chen Linghai. But beyond this, Wang Zhen was untouched by the incident. In fact, Zhao Fu entrusted him with complete control over the affairs of the newly established Silver Pull Division, favoring him even more.

The Silver Pull Division, established in the northwest, mainly managed military funds and provisions.

In April, Tang Shen privately handed Wang Quan a memorial. A few days later, Wang Quan submitted a memorial to the emperor. Zhao Fu, previously disheartened by the failed “paper currency” policy, had been in poor spirits recently.

At over sixty years old, having reigned for thirty years, Zhao Fu had accomplished many significant feats. For instance, in the tenth year of Kaiping, he went to war with the Liao State and signed a peace treaty; in the seventeenth year of Kaiping, he commissioned the management of the Yellow River, greatly reducing the risk of flooding. More recently, two years ago, he ordered the construction of three official roads leading north, which would be remembered as a great achievement a hundred years from now.

As a sage ruler, Zhao Fu believed he was already destined for an eternal place in history.

But if he succeeded in implementing the “paper currency” policy, he would become one of the most renowned emperors in history.

However, Wang Quan’s initial proposal to disguise the policy under tax reforms had failed. Neither Ji Wengji nor Wang Quan, both serving as prime ministers, managed to pull it off! Now, Wang Quan comes to him again, saying, “Your Majesty, instead of pursuing the levy reforms, let’s go through the military funding from the northwest. We can use the situation at the front as a pretext to secretly push for the ‘paper currency’ initiative!” 

Zhao Fu, though still skeptical, allowed it.

The Silver Pull Division, ostensibly in charge of military provisions, would eventually operate like a future bank once the three official roads were completed. Military officers could store the supplies distributed by the court in the Silver Pull Division and exchange them with deeds when needed. Over time, these deeds would evolve into a form of “paper currency.” There’s no need to go out of your way to exchange; in the various provinces of the northwest, you can directly use these deeds for buying and selling. The Silver Pull Division ‘recognizes the paper, not the person’!”

This was Tang Shen’s “deceive the heavens while crossing the sea” scheme, offered to Wang Quan. (TN: This idiom means to carry out a deception or trick that is clever enough to evade detection, often used in the context of a cunning strategy or scheme.)

The northwest, constantly at war with the Liao State, was an ideal testing ground for the “paper currency” policy, as noble families had no influence there. Once the groundwork was complete, the policy could be expanded nationwide, leaving the noble families with no room to retaliate.

This was a long-term endeavor, not something that could be accomplished overnight. Thus, Zhao Fu entrusted the task to the younger, more vigorous Wang Zhen, not to Wang Quan.

In the court, as the Silver Pull Division began its operations, the court officials were puzzled but had no idea what it was truly for.

Ji Wengji silently acquiesced, allowing the Division to operate.

In the scorching summer, after Tang Shen had finished reviewing the memorials, he handed them to Right Vice Prime Minister Xu Bi. After Xu Bi had read them, he smiled at Tang Shen as he was about to return and said, “Tang daren, today the court’s affairs are particularly busy, and the memorials you need to review are far more than usual.”

Tang Shen halted his steps and turned back, saying, “I will obey the command.”

When Tang Shen returned to his own quarters, a government worker indeed carried over another box of memorials and placed it on his desk. As Tang Shen flipped through them, he saw not only the military reports from the northwest but also the other local reports that Xu Bi had stopped him from viewing last year, now all returned to him. Silently, Tang Shen looked at these reports, closing his eyes in deep thought, trying to figure out what Xu Bi had been orchestrating over the past year.

In the end, he let out a helpless laugh.

Xu Bi hadn’t done anything!

The Ji faction had been exiled, while the Wang faction saw both gains and losses. Chen Linghai’s man had replaced Qin Si, taking the position of Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue. But Xu Bi hadn’t gained anything, nor had he lost anything! He remained, in the emperor’s eyes, a figure that barely existed, an official without presence, a Right Vice Prime Minister with almost no threat to his power.

Meanwhile, Right Vice Minister of Personnel Yu Chaosheng entered Xu Bi’s office, bowing deeply, “Greetings to Sir.”

Xu Bi smiled at him, “Xian Zhi, you and that Tang Jingze have quite the timing. Every time he just leaves, you come.”

Yu Chaosheng was surprised. “Has Tang daren been here?”

Xu Bi replied, “Take a seat.”

The two of them, teacher and student, sat facing each other, discussing academic matters and eventually talking about Yu Chaosheng’s family. Yu Chaosheng had returned to Shengjing for half a year, and his wife had recently given birth. Today, Yu Chaosheng came to ask his teacher to name the child.

Xu Bi said, “You’ve been married for over a decade and finally have a child, which puts a worry of mine to rest. Do you know that two years ago, I almost thought you were like Wang Zifeng, someone who favored men?”

Yu Chaosheng was shocked, “Wang daren has a preference for men? How did you know, Sir?”

Xu Bi countered, “If he doesn’t, why would he be twenty-eight and still unmarried? Xian Zhi, Xian Zhi, you can deduce this just by thinking. Even His Majesty surely knows. In the Song Dynasty, there’s no law that a prince consort couldn’t hold an official position. A son-in-law as exceptional as this would surely have been bestowed with a princess by His Majesty long ago, forming a royal union.”

Yu Chaosheng, feeling ashamed, replied, “I’ve been foolish.”

“His Majesty’s heavy favor towards him is likely not without knowing full well he’ll have no heirs,” Xu Bi continued. “But enough about him. This is your first child, so you need a good name. How about ‘Ke’? As in, ‘to cut a tree with an axe.’ How does Yu Ke sound?”

“Thank you for the name, Sir.”

They chatted a while longer, before Xu Bi, after taking a sip of tea, said meaningfully, “Last year, Wang Quan submitted a memorial for twenty-three tax reforms. I immediately reassigned Tang Jingze to handle the northwest memorials, no longer allowing him to oversee local affairs. Who could have predicted that this year, Wang Quan would propose establishing a Silver Pull Division in the northwest? A Silver Pull Division in the northwest… That Tang Jingze is quite the interesting character.”

July 23, 30th year of Kaiping, 30 li outside Yanzhou City in the northwest. (TN: ancient measure of length, approx. 500 m)

The summer nights of the northwest were like burning knives, the air unbearably dry. The fierce wind didn’t bring any relief from the heat, instead scorching the skin like fire. Over thirty young soldiers, dressed in clothing thay blended into the night, lay prone behind a small hill, quietly observing the scene ahead.

At the center of the group was a tall, dark-skinned, handsome general. His bright, piercing eyes fixed on the rugged path below the hill. The moonlight reflecting in those eyes seemed to burn with an intense flame.

“Click click—”

The sound of hooves and carts approached from the distance.

A quarter of an hour later, a caravan dressed as Liao merchants passed beneath the hill. As they moved between two large rocks, the lead Liao merchant suddenly fell into a trap, throwing the entire convoy into disarray.

“Ambush! Ambush!” The Liao soldiers shouted, speaking in their barbaric tongue.

Atop the hill, a gleaming spear was drawn with a sharp sound. Li Jingde roared, “Where are my Feilong troops?!”

The soldiers answered in unison, their voices shaking the heavens, “Here!”

“Charge with me!”

“Yes!”

The Liao soldiers disguised as merchants were terrified by the thunderous shouts. When they looked up at the hill, they saw only a few dozen men! Yet these few dozen men carried the force of thousands. Furious, the Liao soldiers cursed and drew their blades, charging forward as well.

Under the bright moon, blades pierced flesh, and blood sprayed through the air.

The white tassels of the spear were soon stained with blood.

After a long and brutal fight, the Song army captured several Liao soldiers and seized an entire convoy of military supplies and provisions.

A soldier brought one of the Liao men before Li Jingde. “General, the leader of the Liao soldiers is dead. This man seems to be the highest-ranking among the prisoners. He’s not a soldier; he’s a civil official. A few Liao soldiers tried to protect him, but we captured him.”

Li Jingde wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve. “A high-ranking official, huh?”

The Liao official, speaking Song language, spat at him, “Li Jingde, you bastard! Tomorrow, the Liao army will be at the gates of Youzhou, and we’ll cut off your head and hang it above the city!”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

In the next instant, a silver spear pierced through the Liao official’s chest. He stared in disbelief, not understanding how someone could kill a prisoner of war, especially one as valuable as himself.

“Damn son of a b*tch! Did you really think I have a good temper just because I stayed quiet?” Li Jingde cursed.

“General!” his men said helplessly.

“Let’s go, pack up the goods, and head back. We’ll ask the Commander-in-chief for a reward,” Li Jingde ordered.

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