SBCEJM -Chapter 100 The End of the Yellow Millet Dream! I Was Wrong…

At this moment, in the script specially prepared for the second-rank Vice Minister Zhao Yong, The Farmer Girl Da Ya, the climax arrived in the cruelest way possible.

“Da Ya! Good news! Wonderful news!”

A wrinkled old woman—Da Ya’s mother—burst into the thatched hut with a face full of joy.

She grabbed Da Ya’s hand tightly, her voice shrill with excitement.

“Mother found you a wonderful marriage match! You remember Butcher Wang from the neighboring village, right? Their family is willing to pay thirty taels as bride price to marry you!”

Thirty taels!

That amount was enough to find wives for all three of her lazy younger brothers.

Inside “Da Ya’s” body, Zhao Yong’s soul trembled in terror.

Butcher Wang’s son?

That idiot who was infamous throughout the surrounding villages?

A man over thirty, drooling constantly, only capable of giggling foolishly whenever he saw people?

He wanted to refuse! He wanted to scream!

He was a dignified second-rank official of Great Xia—how could he possibly marry a fool!

What unbearable humiliation!

Yet Da Ya, who held control of the body, merely nodded numbly after a long silence.

“I… understand, Mother.”

Watching Zhao Yong’s face twist in despair on the light screen, Feng Zexuan clicked her tongue.

【Oh my, Lord Zhao’s expression is even better than swallowing a hundred flies alive.】

【It’s only marrying a fool. Just endure it and it’ll pass. Isn’t this the “great blessing” you officials always say women should be grateful for?】

Soon, a cheap and garishly red wedding dress was roughly forced onto her body.

The rough fabric scraped painfully against her skin.

Zhao Yong’s soul completely collapsed.

He wanted to smash his head against the wall and die!

He wanted to bite off his own tongue!

But Da Ya merely cried silently, eyes empty, allowing her two younger brothers to impatiently drag her onto a skinny donkey.

“Sis, you should be satisfied already!”

“Thirty taels of silver! Enough to get wives for your three younger brothers!”

Hearing those words, Zhao Yong’s soul roared soundlessly:

Insolence! I am a second-rank court official! How dare you filthy peasants treat me this way!

But he could not utter a single word.

There was not even a trace of joy in her husband’s household. They looked at her as if evaluating how much labor a beast could provide.

That drooling, idiotic “husband” circled around her with a foolish grin, reaching out to touch her face.

Zhao Yong wanted to dodge, but the body stood frozen in place.

Night deepened.

Inside the bridal chamber, the fool’s parents did not leave. Instead, they stood nearby giving live “guidance.”

“Son, like this… yes, just like that…”

“You have to do it this way to give our family a fat grandson!”

When that clumsy body, reeking of sweat and saliva, heavily pressed down onto him—

Zhao Yong let out a howl like a dying beast.

He could only watch helplessly as “he” endured everything like a soulless puppet.

Humiliation, helplessness, disgust, despair…

The emotions surged like a tidal wave, completely crushing and drowning his once lofty soul.

By then, the screen before Feng Zexuan had already gone dark.

【System, what do you think Lord Zhao is feeling right now?】

【He probably wants to die.】The system’s voice carried unmistakable schadenfreude.

When the screen lit up again, it was already deep winter.

Now heavily pregnant, “Da Ya” was forced by her mother-in-law to wash a huge basin of filthy clothes by the freezing river.

Zhao Yong could clearly feel the cold drilling through his fingertips into his bones, freezing even his soul.

He suddenly remembered the speech he once gave at a banquet:

“Women are naturally cold-bodied. Only by tempering them through harsh winters can they develop resilience and better serve their husbands and children.”

So this… was the “tempering” he spoke of.

As “Da Ya” stood up, her foot suddenly slipped, and her body uncontrollably fell backward.

Splash—!

The icy river swallowed her instantly.

Bone-piercing cold wrapped around her entire body. The soaked cotton clothing became unbearably heavy, dragging her downward.

This body knew how to swim. It struggled briefly, then ultimately gave up.

Ending things like this…

wasn’t so bad.

As consciousness finally sank into darkness, Zhao Yong was left with only one thought—

So for some people, death itself was actually a form of release.

【Ding! Yellow Millet Dream execution complete!】

Feng Zexuan stretched lazily and tossed the last potato chip into her mouth, crunching it loudly.

【So it’s over. Lord Zhao’s short life was certainly “wonderful,” wasn’t it?】

【System, what about the others? Have they all finished their experiences?】

【Yes, Host. All twelve scripts have been completed. We only watched fragments, but those people truly lived entire lifetimes as women within their dreams.】

The system sounded curious.

【Host, when they wake up, do you think they’ll feel they’re men or women?】

【What does gender even matter?】

Feng Zexuan thought for a moment.

【When a person has been tortured until only the “self” remains, all they can feel is pain itself. At that point, who still distinguishes between male or female? Pain hurts the same either way.】

Feng Zexuan curled her lips into a smile.

【System, what kind of mental state do you think these officials will have at tomorrow’s morning court?】

The system instantly understood what she meant, its voice brightening excitedly.

【Host, tomorrow you should propose opening schools for girls before the Emperor and see how these stubborn officials react!】

【Reward: fifty thousand gossip points!】

【Oh? Now that sounds worthwhile!】Feng Zexuan’s eyes lit up.

【Then I really must see whether these twelve officials, after personally experiencing the “blessings of womanhood,” will still dare to shout that “a woman’s virtue lies in lack of talent!”】

…

The next morning, before dawn had even broken.

Inside the Vice Minister’s residence, Zhao Yong abruptly sat upright in bed with a short scream.

Cold sweat drenched his inner robes as he gasped for breath, his eyes filled with terror and confusion.

Hadn’t he fallen into the icy river and died?

Instinctively, he lowered his head to look at his hands.

They were a man’s well-maintained hands, with distinct knuckles—no frostbite, no calluses from years of labor.

Trembling, he touched his Adam’s apple, his chest, and finally…

further down.

Still there! Everything was still there!

Zhao Yong nearly burst into tears of joy.

It was a dream!

Just a terribly long and horrifyingly realistic dream!

Yet the bone-piercing cold, the humiliation of being pinned beneath that fool, the heavy pain of carrying a child…

Everything had branded itself deeply into his soul.

“Master, you’re awake? Why are you sweating so much?” his wife asked worriedly after being startled awake beside him.

Looking at her familiar face, Zhao Yong opened his mouth, and what came out was a choked, tearful:

“I was wrong…”

The moment the words left his lips, both he and his wife froze in shock.

At the same time, over at Censor Li’s residence—

Censor Li also woke from his nightmare in terror. His first reaction was to touch his chest.

Flat! It was flat!

His whole body relaxed weakly.

But immediately afterward, the memories of being forcibly married to a wastrel and ultimately tortured to death flooded back into his mind, making his stomach churn violently.

He suddenly rolled over the bedside and retched desperately.

“A woman’s virtue lies in lack of talent”… “A woman’s virtue lies in lack of talent”…

He had effectively sentenced himself to death with his own words.

At Clerk Wang’s residence in the Ministry of Revenue, after waking from the dream, he burst into loud sobs like a child, repeatedly muttering:

“My hands aren’t filthy hands, please spare me…”

frightening Madam Wang into complete confusion.

Meanwhile, Assistant Director Sun from the Ministry of Justice sat blankly on his bed with lifeless eyes. Even after dawn fully broke, he continued muttering:

“It’s a daughter… another daughter…”

That night, twelve officials dreamed twelve different nightmares—

yet all of them tasted the very same despair.