Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 347: I, the Emperor, Have a Dream
Once the imperial palace examination concluded, the tribute scholars—those young men who had made it this far after years of grueling study—were finally released back to their homes. They went off light-hearted, eager to relax after days of tension.
Their four hundred answer papers, each dense with classical rhetoric and polished essays, were carefully processed: received, checked, sealed, and finally locked away in the secret archives. In theory, it should have been the Jiajing Emperor himself who would personally read these papers during the allotted three days of marking. But the emperor was preoccupied with loftier pursuits. Alchemy, immortality, the quest for transcendence—such things left him with little patience for combing through reams of essays.
And so, following established custom, the emperor had already delegated the task. He appointed Yan Song, his trusted Grand Secretary, together with seven other senior officials, as reading examiners. From the second day onward, the eight of them would take turns reading through every paper, one after another. When their work was done, they would handpick the top ten scripts and present those to the emperor. From that final selection, the emperor alone would decide who would be Number One Scholar, Number Two, and Number Three—the highest laurels of the empire’s civil service.
The scholars returned home buoyant in spirit, and the emperor himself was in rare good humor—for after nearly a month of anxious watching, the celestial elixir he had been refining at last reached completion that very night.
This was no ordinary pill. According to Tao Zhongwen, the Celestial Master who had risked his life to obtain the recipe, it came from a forgotten ruin across the seas, where he had battled a serpent demon that had guarded the formula for ages.
The pill required eighty-one rare ingredients, each costly and hard to procure. More shocking still, the recipe demanded a hundred drops of the first menstruation blood of virginal maidens, and nineteen pieces of “truth-bearing clots”—coagulated remnants found in the mouths of newborns at birth. Added to these were dragon-born incense, fragments of meteorite from beyond the heavens, and nineteen other exotic substances. For thirty days and nights the master had labored, following secret rites, until the elixir finally condensed within the cauldron.
As the medicine was born, the skies themselves responded. A pale mist rolled across the Western Garden, shrouding the pavilions in mystery. According to Tao Zhongwen, this elixir could extend one’s life, fortify the body’s essence, increase vitality, and grant heirs. Taken three days in succession, it would even allow a man to lie with multiple women through the night without exhausting his strength.
When the great alchemical cauldron opened, the sight within was wondrous. Nine scarlet pills, round and lustrous as quail eggs, glimmered like vermilion cinnabar upon a jade tray. They radiated a faint, enigmatic aura—as if the very air around them pulsed with power.
The emperor was too impatient to wait until morning. That very night, he ordered a eunuch to summon Grand Secretary Yan Song, who was then still working late at the wooden barracks of the Western Garden. As a token of favor, the emperor bestowed upon him one pill.
Yan Song, overwhelmed by such grace, broke into uncontrollable tears.
“The taste is bitter at first, yet afterward it leaves a sweet echo. My chest and lungs burn with warmth, and I feel younger by several years—as though youthful impulses stir once again within me. This old servant could never repay such divine generosity, even if I shattered my body into pieces!”
So he reported an hour later, his voice choked with gratitude.
The emperor listened, smiling with satisfaction.
“Your sincerity is touching, Weizhong. It pleases Us greatly.”
Indeed, Yan Song had labored tirelessly of late—composing ritual prayers, supervising the palace examination, and handling countless affairs. One young eunuch whispered that Yan Song had worked so relentlessly he had not even bathed for seven or eight days. Amused, the emperor turned to his attendant, Huang Jin, and commanded softly:
“Go to the Imperial Household Department. Have a silver plaque inscribed with the words ‘Loyal, Diligent, Responsive, and Perceptive.’ Choose an auspicious day, and deliver it to Weizhong’s household.”
“Loyal, Diligent, Responsive, and Perceptive”—those four characters represented the highest possible praise a ruler could bestow upon a minister.
At the news, Yan Song, the venerable Grand Secretary with his snow-white hair and beard, lost all composure. Like a sentimental girl, he collapsed to his knees, forehead striking the ground with a loud thud. When he lifted his head, his face was a river of tears and snot.
“This unworthy old servant thanks His Majesty for such profound kindness! Even should I give my life a thousand times over, I could never repay the favor of being so deeply recognized.”
The emperor chuckled, shaking his head.
“Weizhong, what is this? You are already advanced in years—why must you cry so easily? Rise, and rest well tonight. Tomorrow the papers await your review. Do not disappoint Us.”
“The emperor’s favor is as deep as the sea, and this servant’s loyalty as weighty as a mountain. I shall devote myself wholly and ensure the papers are judged with fairness and utmost care.”
Yan Song kowtowed once more before respectfully withdrawing.
When Yan Song had left, the emperor turned his gaze upon the remaining pills. Desire stirred in his eyes; he could no longer hold back.
He dressed himself in fresh Daoist robes, lit three sticks of incense, and seated himself solemnly upon a mat inscribed with the Taiji Eight Trigrams. Following Tao Zhongwen’s guidance, he circulated his breath in a full cycle of Daoist internal alchemy before preparing to ingest the pill.
A young palace maid, her round face still tender with youth, approached on her knees. Her slender jade fingers held the vermilion pill, while her other hand balanced a translucent jade cup brimming with dew collected at dawn. With reverence, she offered both to the Son of Heaven.
The emperor accepted, placed the pill in his mouth, and swallowed it down with a sip of morning dew.
As Yan Song had described, the initial bitterness gave way to a lingering sweetness. Warmth surged from his abdomen, racing into his channels and meridians. Soon after came a wave of unstoppable vitality, fierce and throbbing like an untamed tide.
Flushed with energy, the emperor stood.
“Summon Lady Lu, Noble Consort An, and Beauty Xi from the Palace of Jade Radiance,” he ordered, his face glowing red with desire.
And so, as ancient verse once sang—a maiden fair as jade, her garments slipping loose, bringing joy into the night—the emperor passed the evening in unbridled pleasure. By dawn, the summoned ladies were escorted back to their own chambers, while the emperor himself remained content and deeply rested.
At daybreak, the emperor hastened to summon Tao Zhongwen, the Celestial Master. It was not because the pill had failed—on the contrary, he had slept better than he had in years, even dreaming.
And it was this dream that troubled him.
Tao Zhongwen was an elderly Daoist, his hair and beard pure white yet his face smooth and unwrinkled, giving him the uncanny air of one who aged in reverse. Draped in a gray-and-white robe marked with the Eight Trigrams, he seemed more immortal than mortal.
When ushered into the emperor’s presence, he bowed low. The emperor, grave-faced, recounted his vision:
“Last night, after taking the pill, I felt refreshed in spirit and slept deeply. Yet near waking, I dreamed. In that dream, I beheld our ancestor, the Great Founder, the Hongwu Emperor himself. He stood upon the bank of a river thick with floating duckweed, and he gazed at me… gazed long and silently.
I was stricken with fear. I confessed that I had not well-governed the empire he had left behind, calling myself an unworthy descendant.
But the Great Founder only looked. He spoke no word. At last, he pointed to the ground at his feet… and then, like an immortal, ascended into the heavens.
What meaning lies in this dream, Tao Zhongwen?”
The emperor’s voice faltered, laden with unease.