IDWBE – Chapter 4 Hong An

“Your Highness!”

Hong Ying dropped to his knees with a thud.

“What are you doing?”

Lin Yi shot him a glare.

“This humble one swears to follow Your Highness to the death!” Hong Ying declared his loyalty.

“Are you sick?” Lin Yi didn’t waste a single extra word. “If you like kneeling so much, kneel for the whole night.”

“Your Highness…”

Hong Ying got to his feet even faster than he had knelt down.

“Sigh. Once we get to the south, if we really can’t make a living,” Lin Yi said calmly, “we’ll just perform on the streets. Your flying-needle trick isn’t bad—there’ll definitely be an audience.”

Although he sometimes looked down on Hong Ying’s half-baked skills, he was honestly a little envious.

The State of Liang had been founded through martial prowess, and a culture of martial arts flourished. As a member of the imperial clan, he had been assigned a palace instructor at the age of seven—even though he was an unfavored prince.

Learning martial arts required talent, of course, but more importantly it required perseverance and courage.

And as a transmigrator, those were exactly what he lacked.

With the mindset of someone in his thirties, his temperament had long since been worn smooth. In this lifetime, it was unlikely to change. Where would he find the patience and resolve to practice martial arts?

He thought to himself: I’m a prince. I travel with guards. I’m not fighting for the throne. Why bother learning kung fu?

For eighteen years, he had mastered only a common Five-Step Fist routine, and even that he performed weakly and without proper form.

He kept a low profile purely through sheer incompetence.

No acting required.

It wasn’t until an incident last year that he realized he had been too naive about this world.

Two ninth-rank masters had dared to infiltrate the heavily guarded imperial palace to carry out an assassination attempt.

They moved as if the place were empty, even breaking into the sleeping chambers.

If not for the timely arrival of the palace enforcers, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Even his so-called emperor father wasn’t absolutely safe.

Let alone him.

Now he could only regret not practicing harder when he was young.

If he had been diligent, knocking down Hong Ying with a single punch wouldn’t have been a problem.

Back then, Hong Ying had no teacher and barely recognized a few characters.

Lin Yi had personally taught him to read and study alongside Lin Ning, even forcing him to practice threading embroidery needles—so he could at least sew a decent pair of underpants.

Ask someone else to sew them?

His own mother forbade it.

The Department of Imperial Garments didn’t dare.

Then one day, while idly recounting Journey to the West to Lin Ning, he reached the lines:

“From the spiritual root was nurtured and born,
Through cultivation of the mind the Great Dao grew.
Bearing and sustaining all beings in supreme benevolence,
Illuminating all things so goodness might arise.
If you wish to know the primal workings of creation…”

Hong Ying suddenly declared that he had attained enlightenment.

“Enlightened about what?” Lin Yi had asked.

Hong Ying couldn’t explain.

But later, when Lin Yi went “incognito” on a private outing, Hong Ying casually knocked down five hooligans.

Only then did Lin Yi realize—Hong Ying had truly learned a bit of martial skill.

If he himself had tried harder back then, surely he could have surpassed Hong Ying’s self-taught, wild-style methods?

Ah…

Only after losing something does one learn to cherish it.

“Your Highness…” Hong Ying said with an embarrassed grin. “The escort agency’s business is still doing quite well.”

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Lin Yi yawned. “Since we’re no longer staying in the capital, we might as well shift the business south.”

After he turned ten, the palace began issuing him a stipend.

Three taels of silver per month. Small sums add up. He had the wet nurse’s son, Song Cheng, start doing business outside the palace.

The first venture was an inn.

Modern hospitality concepts integrated into this era hadn’t caused a sensation—but they had earned him his first pot of gold.

Then came a second inn. Then a third.

By the time he left the palace to establish his own residence, he already owned six inns.

After leaving the palace, he became even more unrestrained.

After all, he was famously greedy for wealth.

Anyone who blocked his financial path—even the fearsome Commander of the Imperial Secret Guards—he would scold without hesitation.

Among all the princes and imperial grandsons, he was the only one who dared.

He wasn’t afraid of retaliation from the secret guards. Those with ambition feared losing their support.

The day he was reprimanded by his cheap emperor father, the Crown Prince sent twenty jin of deer tendons, fifty jin of sea cucumbers, fifty deer tongues, fifty ox tongues, and twenty jin of dried razor clams.

The Third Prince, Prince Yong, sent a pair of white jade lions.

The Fourth Prince, Prince Jin, directly gifted one hundred taels of silver.

Even the Twelfth Prince—six years younger than him—sent a ten-mu farm estate.

A business with guaranteed profit.

Argue with people—earn money.

So what if he beat up Qi Zhong, the son of the current Prime Minister?

Who told him to bully men and oppress women just because of his family’s power?

Lin Yi simply couldn’t stand him.

As his business empire expanded, anyone who blocked his path found it cleared away—by elder and younger imperial brothers, imperial nephews, even imperial consorts.

After all, someone like him was strangely endearing.

By now, he owned ten inns, two rice shops, one furniture store, one silk shop, and one escort agency.

Dongfeng Escort Agency—mission guaranteed.

Since its founding, it had never lost a single shipment. Its reputation spread across the land, and last year alone its revenue equaled the total profits of all his other businesses combined.

Sometimes he couldn’t help but marvel—logistics in ancient times had great potential.

“Your Highness,” Hong Ying bowed, “this humble one will make arrangements. But Sanhe’s scorching heat—Your Highness’s health…”

“You talk too much.”

Lin Yi stood, stretched lazily, and prepared to return to his room to sleep. If he stayed outside any longer, he’d just be feeding the mosquitoes.

This world had no vaccines. He had no immunity.

Catching malaria wouldn’t be surprising.

Even a cold or pneumonia could cost him half his life.

Having finally lived again, dying inexplicably would be far too unjust.

Hong Ying watched Lin Yi leave the pavilion, then signaled the maids on either side to attend to the prince’s rest.

He himself sat upright in the chair, motionless, like an old monk in meditation.

Late at night, the wind rose. His ears twitched.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, he snapped his eyes open. Without any visible movement, his body drifted over the courtyard wall of Prince He’s residence.

“Damn girl! See if I don’t beat you to death!”

From afar, Hong Ying heard a woman’s furious shout, sharp in the night.

The child’s cries, however, were growing weaker.

He stood at the door of a hut barely larger than a pigsty, yet did not enter.

Hands clasped behind his back, hidden in the darkness.

The moon sank lower and lower.

Creak.

The door opened softly.

A little girl slipped out, carefully closing the broken wooden door behind her. She walked farther and farther down the alley.

The Juuma River—the only river running through Ankang City.

Hong Ying followed her.

First he watched as she stood by the riverbank, wanting to jump but not daring.

Then she crouched down, clutching her head, sobbing uncontrollably.

He wondered—what would His Highness do if he were here?

As Hong Ying pondered, the girl’s crying grew louder, stirring more and more dogs into barking.

The sharp, overlapping barks startled her. She spun around—and saw Hong Ying’s shadow in the darkness.

Through tears, she said, “Are you a kidnapper? Then sell me. I only want a mouthful of food.”

“Hmph.”

“Master…”

Hearing that familiar, distinctive snort, the little girl could hardly believe it.

“Silly child. What are you doing here?” Hong Ying asked coolly.

“My mother told me to die. I’m afraid of water…” The girl’s shoulders trembled as she sobbed.

“From today onward, your name shall be Hong An.”

A faint, ambiguous smile curved Hong Ying’s lips.