Chapter 134: Mistaken Identity?

More than a month had passed, yet the sunshine remained bright and warm. The streets and alleys of the capital city replayed the same scenes day after day. As a gentle breeze swept through, bringing an unexpected touch of coolness, one was reminded that the oppressive summer was quietly drawing to a close.

On days like these, with both warmth and coolness in the air, going out and strolling the streets was the perfect choice. This thought applied to everyone—nobles and commoners alike, as well as the righteous martial heroes who upheld justice.

Among them was none other than Wu Qing, the famed female chief constable of the Jing Dynasty.

In the bustling marketplace, teeming with people, Wu Qing sat in her wheelchair, lingering from one stall to another, a smile gracing her face—one that had never before been seen.

Not far behind, two figures followed her stealthily, their eyes fixed intently on her every move, whispering quietly between themselves.

“What’s going on? Wu Qing’s been acting strange lately. How did you manage to get on her bad side this time?”

“I swear, I haven’t done anything special recently.”

“Oh, I see. So it’s because you haven’t changed. Just kidding, no hitting! But tell me, why is Wu Qing so happy today? You must know that.”

“Can you cut the nonsense? If I knew, why would I have called you here? It’s rare we have no major cases lately, finally a chance to rest, and it turns out like this?”

If any well-informed commoner happened to be on this street, they would surely be shaken to their core. What kind of major incident could have occurred on this ordinary street to warrant the involvement of three of the Four Famous Constables?

Indeed, the two trailing behind Wu Qing were Leng Xue and Tie Shou.

Since about half a month ago, Wu Qing had seemed like a different person—her manner and dealings with others were starkly different from before. Yet, by nightfall, she would return to normal. When asked, she either remained silent or offered some far-fetched excuse.

But that was not the main concern. Five days prior, Ji Yao Hua had invited Leng Xue out in Wu Qing’s presence. Strangely, Wu Qing showed no reaction—no anger, not a hint of jealousy; she even encouraged him to go and said she wanted to stroll alone.

This truly unsettled Leng Xue. Wu Qing was definitely hiding something. So today, when Wu Qing set out alone again, Leng Xue decided to follow her, curious whether she genuinely wanted solitude or just sought company.

Originally, Tie Shou had plans to drink with someone, but seeing the situation, he abandoned the idea and insisted on accompanying Leng Xue, who refused to go alone.

This was not out of gossip but genuine concern—Tie Shou feared that if there was trouble and Leng Xue got involved, it might cost lives.

Yet now, Wu Qing was truly just enjoying a solitary walk, and quite happily at that, leaving the two men puzzled.

When did Wu Qing become like an ordinary woman? Wasn’t she usually practicing martial arts whenever she had the chance?

Still, it had to be said—Wu Qing’s smile was genuinely beautiful, far more so than usual. Just watching her from afar left Leng Xue momentarily stunned.

“Enough staring. I really don’t understand how you can be so petty. Wu Qing isn’t like what you think. All’s well now, let’s go back.”

Tie Shou, feigning righteousness, stood on Wu Qing’s side and chided Leng Xue once they were sure all was well.

“Fine, fine, I’m petty. You go back first. I’ll stay longer in case Wu Qing buys something and I can help carry it.”

Leng Xue just wanted to enjoy this rare moment of seeing Wu Qing smile. But to the perpetually single Tie Shou, this only proved that Leng Xue was still worried.

This remark annoyed Tie Shou, but before he could respond, the lively yet orderly street suddenly changed.

A man, his clothes stained with blood, came charging from afar, knocking over countless stalls and pedestrians alike. His apparent goal was to cross the street at any cost.

Unfortunately, right ahead of him was Wu Qing, struggling to push her wheelchair away from the scene.

Though Leng Xue couldn’t understand why Wu Qing didn’t use her true energy to dodge swiftly or apprehend the man outright, he didn’t have time to ponder. After a few breaths passed without Wu Qing taking action, Leng Xue leapt forward and intercepted the man.

The reckless man failed to notice another figure suddenly appearing nearby, but he did need to watch where he was going.

Looking up, he saw a man in the Six Doors uniform wielding a blade. Instead of dodging, the man’s face hardened with ruthless intent. His hands curved like claws, reaching straight for Leng Xue’s chest in a deadly strike!

Though startled by the man’s ferocity, Leng Xue remained composed, battle-hardened. With his blade never leaving its sheath, he parried the attack.

Originally, seeing the man’s momentum unbroken, Wu Qing was about to abandon the wheelchair, but just as she lifted herself, her vision blurred and Leng Xue suddenly appeared before her. Before she could speak, the two men engaged in combat.

Typically, Leng Xue would have no trouble subduing such an opponent quickly, but the battle unfolded differently—this man dominated, pressing Leng Xue back.

Three reasons explained this: first, the man fought with deadly intent while Leng Xue initially showed no desire to fight, not even drawing his blade; second, the man’s martial skill was exquisite, every move seamlessly connected, striking at vital points to thwart Leng Xue’s full strength; third, Leng Xue’s power was severely limited, unable to draw his sword properly.

“Wu Qing, are you alright?” Tie Shou approached her.

Wu Qing shook her head and asked, “What’s going on? Is this a case?”

“No, just an accident.”

As Tie Shou spoke, seeing Wu Qing had no intention to intervene, he stepped forward, ready to join the fight.

Before he could act, Wu Qing suddenly spoke words that startled Tie Shou and caused his face to cloud.

“This man uses Dragon Claw Hand—the Pearl Snatching Technique. He aims to strike your chest with his left hand, slash your ribs with his right, and grab your vital Qi point with his left…”

Leng Xue fought fiercely, losing the initiative and forced to dodge or block every new attack, unable to use even a fraction of his true power, his sword still sheathed.

Frustrated, he wondered why Tie Shou and Wu Qing hadn’t intervened yet, as if they were just watching.

Before he could finish his complaint, Wu Qing’s words reached his ears. Trusting her completely, Leng Xue instinctively followed her guidance to break the deadlock.

The attacker’s face changed, but his moves were already committed.

Now the tide turned; Leng Xue reversed the situation and subdued the man.

Strangely, no sooner had Leng Xue captured the man than several agents from the Western Depot arrived, thanked them, and took the prisoner away.

Though annoyed by the Western Depot’s belated arrival, Leng Xue and the others had their official duties and had to cooperate. Reluctantly, Leng Xue handed over the man with a scowl.

Once the prisoner was taken and the situation calmed, Leng Xue approached Wu Qing to offer some words of comfort but was stopped by Tie Shou.

This surprised Leng Xue. Given Wu Qing’s strong-willed nature, and his rare chance to play the hero, was Tie Shou trying to steal the credit?

He soon sensed something was wrong and halted when Tie Shou blocked his way.

Tie Shou’s face was ashen. One hand stopped Leng Xue, the other pointed at Wu Qing, voice cold and demanding: “You’re not Wu Qing. Who are you?!”

…

After lunch, Emperor Zhu Yu felt dizzy—not from illness, but because, at long last in this world, he had encountered something from his past life: wine from the Western Regions.

“Fine wine in a translucent cup, eager to drink, but the pipa urges one onward.”

When the imperial kitchen brought forth newly imported Western grapes wine, the aroma stirred Zhu Yu’s memories. He drank deeply, losing himself in thoughts of his former life until he found himself quite intoxicated.

Fortunately, even when drunk, Zhu Yu never caused a scene; he was stubborn but controlled.

Seeing the emperor barely able to stand, the attending eunuchs and palace maids were terrified—too afraid even to support him. If possible, they would have carried him back themselves.

But Zhu Yu insisted he was not drunk and warned them that doubting him would be treason punishable by extermination of nine clans. No one dared utter another word.

Wherever Zhu Yu went, a crowd of attendants followed nervously, fearing accidents. Zhu Yu, displeased, sent them all away, insisting he could return alone.

Thus, a stalemate formed. Even if Zhu Yu declared the sky falling, the eunuchs dared not leave.

The emperor’s threats might be forgotten when sober, but letting him walk alone was unthinkable.

The penalty might not be the extermination of nine clans, but three clans at least—and no one in the attendants group would survive.

At that moment, Eunuch Wu arrived, dispersing the crowd and following Zhu Yu at a distance.

If one were attentive, they would notice Wu’s presence even when Zhu Yu was sober; but Zhu Yu was oblivious.

So, alone, Zhu Yu wandered freely toward his sleeping quarters. After a while, he noticed the buildings around him becoming unfamiliar—yet he remained unaware he had lost his way.

As he walked among these strange structures, Zhu Yu suddenly came upon a familiar annex. Seeing the familiar surroundings, he excitedly declared to the empty air that he had found home and no longer needed an escort.

Then, unsteady, he staggered into the annex.

Had Zhu Yu been sober, he would realize this was not his own chamber but the annex where Wang Yuyan resided.

Eunuch Wu recognized the place and was relieved, though he quietly stood guard at the door.

Inside, Wang Yuyan lay reading, her ears twitching at the sound of footsteps outside. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and though she made no other motion, a killing intent emanated from her.

But when Zhu Yu pushed open the door and she saw him, her gathered resolve dissolved, and she stammered in shock:

“Your Majesty? I… I am unwell today and cannot rise to greet you. I beg your forgiveness.”

She anxiously awaited his response but instead was met with the overwhelming scent of alcohol.

At first, seeing Zhu Yu, she remained composed, but catching the strong smell on his breath drained the color from her face.

“Your Majesty, I am indisposed. If you require service, please seek another concubine. Your Majesty? Your Majesty?”

Wang Yuyan thought her words would be accepted with understanding, but Zhu Yu was deaf to her.

He recklessly stormed in, spending ten minutes closing the door behind him. Once done, he looked down at his clothes and muttered:

“Huh? Where are my clothes? Who stole them?”

This soft question thundered in Wang Yuyan’s ears.

She struggled to sit up, peeking at Zhu Yu. Never before had she seen this side of the majestic emperor.

With a thud, she collapsed back onto the bed, her face flushed.

Then she recalled something and tried to curl into a corner, but only her upper body moved; her legs remained obediently stretched on the bed.

Zhu Yu, still preoccupied with his missing clothes, heard the noises from the bed—yet it seemed he heard more than just those sounds.

He raised his head impatiently and shouted toward the bed: “I know, I’m going to sleep soon. Are you annoying or what? Always nagging! Nag about what? I know how to sleep!”

Mumbling faintly, he shuffled heavily toward the bed.

Just as Zhu Yu neared, Wang Yuyan had managed to shift herself against the wall at the side.

With a thud, Zhu Yu collapsed onto the bed.

Once the emperor covered himself with a blanket and lay still, Wang Yuyan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

But before she could relax, the scene changed again.

Zhu Yu half-opened his drunken eyes, waving his hands wildly as if searching for something, murmuring:

“My pillow… where’s my pillow? Where’s my big pillow?”

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