Futile Devices Scans

Though Xiao Tang was long accustomed to the submissive, deferential demeanor of the low-ranking attendants from the various courtyards, the moment Ning Xuan bowed to him, he felt as though he had been seated upon needles.

Before Ning Xuan could even fully bend his waist, Xiao Tang hurried forward and grabbed him, pulling him upright in a panic.

“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare!” he exclaimed repeatedly.

“Quickly tidy yourself and come with me—His Highness is still waiting. It wouldn’t do to keep him waiting too long~”

As he spoke, Xiao Tang kept his body slightly bent, his demeanor exceedingly obsequious—every bit the fawning lackey.

“His Highness? Which one?” Ning Xuan asked, baffled.

He had no dealings with such exalted figures, nor did he harbor any ambitions of “soaring to the branch and becoming a phoenix” as others did.

He was no crow seeking transformation, nor did he wish to become a phoenix. All he wanted was a stable life with food and shelter—and if he could one day find a way to return to his own world, then leaving quietly would be for the best.

“Oh, my little ancestor, which master could it possibly be?” Xiao Tang said anxiously, sweat pouring down his face.

“I beg you, stop delaying! I’ve been searching for you for half the day. If this drags on any longer—”

He wiped his sweat frantically with his sleeve. Having seen countless attendants and maids rack their brains trying to seize such opportunities, he had never encountered someone like Ning Xuan.

Was he truly foolish—or merely pretending?

“An order came down from above today,” Xiao Tang continued hurriedly. “His Highness needs someone nimble and efficient by his side, so you’ve been transferred to serve as his personal attendant.”

In truth, the stated reason meant little.

What kind of people did the manor not have? Whether nimble, obedient, clever, or low-profile—such justifications were merely for appearances.

As for the real reason, everyone could more or less guess seven or eight parts of it—but none dared speak it aloud, choosing instead to feign ignorance.

Though many desired to cling to the master, gaining a bit of advantage and using borrowed authority to live a better life among servants—

The prerequisite was simple:

You had to live long enough to enjoy it.

In the Prince’s manor, one could be foolish, dull, or even single-minded. If capable, even better—those who could achieve results with mere words rather than action were considered truly formidable.

But one thing was absolute:

You could not lack cunning.

A personal attendant—and at that, one serving Prince Rong—

This was a position countless people coveted, schemed for, and longed after, yet could never obtain.

So long as one was careful and made no mistakes, faithfully carrying out one’s duties, good food and fine clothing would come in abundance.

Not to mention the various young masters and madams who, seeking to curry favor with the Prince, would privately offer gifts and benefits in exchange for information.

To the attendants of other courtyards, even those of equal rank, one could hold one’s head high and walk with arrogance.

No matter how well you performed, if the Prince never noticed—and someone else added a few words at the right moment—you could be dealt with before you even had the chance to defend yourself.

Meanwhile, those who served directly at the Prince’s side—

If they showed even a little initiative or promise, the Prince would see it all clearly.

Rewards were plentiful, and opportunities for advancement were everywhere.

And if one happened to possess a bit of beauty, along with certain… skills that could capture the Prince’s attention—

Then in a single leap, they could cast off their status as servants and rise to become a madam or young master, enjoying wealth and glory.

Such a golden opportunity—one that others desperately schemed for—had, by sheer misfortune or fate, fallen squarely upon Ning Xuan’s head.

To others, it was the envy of countless hearts.

To Ning Xuan—

It was a grievance so great he nearly cried out in protest.

What sin have I committed to deserve this?!

A transfer was one thing—but why now, at such a sensitive moment?

People were already gossiping endlessly. Now, even if he jumped into the Yellow River, he would never wash himself clean!

And most importantly—

He had worked all day and hadn’t even had a proper meal.

Yet now he was being dragged off to serve in front of such a figure, on an empty stomach, nerves stretched taut.

If his hunger dulled his focus and he accidentally committed some catastrophic blunder—

One that would “shake heaven and earth, make ghosts and gods weep”—

Wouldn’t he be finished before he even had the chance to protest his innocence?

Thinking thus, Ning Xuan raised a hand to press against his empty stomach, which growled incessantly in protest. Wearing a bitter expression, he nodded.

Seeing Ning Xuan finally set aside his work and follow along, Xiao Tang was so relieved he nearly burst into tears. Brimming with excitement, he hurried ahead to lead the way.

After completing the handover procedures, Ning Xuan followed Xiao Tang along the path.

All the while, they passed through waves of gazes from attendants and maids—some filled with envy, others with jealousy, confusion, resentment, or thinly veiled attempts at ingratiation.

Returning briefly to the shared servants’ quarters he had once occupied with Mo Qi, Ning Xuan gathered his pitifully meager belongings.

Around him, whispers and murmurs never ceased. Yet whenever Ning Xuan raised his head to look, every single one of them—whether willing or not—immediately plastered on exaggerated, fawning smiles.

Some even rushed forward eagerly, as though afraid that carrying a few pieces of clothing might exhaust him to death, offering to help carry his bundle and escort him all the way.

Among them, Xiao Jiu and He Xiang were the most fervent.

These were people Ning Xuan usually had little to do with—if not actively avoided. Only a few hours earlier, they had mocked him and treated him with cold disdain.

Yet now, they behaved as though they were lifelong brothers, their familiarity bordering on absurdity.

Ning Xuan struggled mightily, sweating profusely just to shake them off. Had Xiao Tang not intervened—fearing further delay would incur blame from above—and waved the two away, Ning Xuan could hardly imagine how long they would have clung to him.

All matters, great and small, concerning Prince Rong were personally overseen by the steward of the manor, Mo Yan, who permitted no one else to interfere.

Xiao Tang brought Ning Xuan to meet Mo Yan, handed him over, and then left reluctantly, turning back every few steps as though parting from something precious.

Mo Yan then led Ning Xuan to settle into a side chamber within the Prince’s bedchamber courtyard.

With lowered eyes, Ning Xuan surveyed his surroundings.

He could not help but sigh inwardly.

Even among those who were all servants, there were still clear divisions of rank. The closer one stood to the master, the better the treatment.

He was still nothing more than an ordinary attendant, serving another person.

And yet—because the one he now served was Prince Rong—

His living quarters had not only grown larger, but the conditions had improved by several grades.

Each person even had their own private room.

Though not extravagantly luxurious, it was complete in every detail—small as a sparrow, yet possessing all vital organs.

“Once you’ve settled your things, go to the study and attend upon him. The Prince has just returned from the hunt and is quite fatigued. This is your first time serving at close quarters—keep your head on your shoulders and your wits about you. If you make even the slightest mistake, no one will be able to save you.”

With that, Mo Yan turned and left.

Ning Xuan shuddered.

Cursed it all—just as I thought.

To serve the ruler is to lie beside a tiger.

Any position that promised great reward carried equal danger.

Keeping his head lowered all this while, Ning Xuan inadvertently glanced up—just in time to catch a glimpse of Mo Yan’s profile as he departed.

His heart skipped violently.

Damn it! Isn’t that the very same fellow who called me “seductive-looking” the day I first entered the manor?!

Enemies truly do meet on narrow roads! If he hadn’t said I looked like that back then, maybe I wouldn’t have actually turned out this… alluring now!

(What kind of twisted logic is that?)

As if injected with fresh vigor, Ning Xuan moved with lightning speed, swiftly tidying his belongings. Changing into the short working attire Mo Yan had prepared for him, he hurried off toward the study to begin his service.

In his hands, he carried a cup of tea.

It was a finely crafted porcelain cup—premium celadon, glazed with color and inlaid with gold. One needed only to catch its fragrance to know it was worth a small fortune.

The tea leaves within were freshly tribute-grade Longjing from this spring. Even the water used to brew it had been gathered as morning dew at dawn.

Every detail was refined. Every step, meticulous.

As expected of a legitimate imperial prince and royal noble.

Ning Xuan did not dare be careless in the slightest.

His gaze remained fixed upon the teacup in his hands as he strode swiftly—yet steadily—toward the study.

The tea attendant had told him:

This tea carried one part fragrance for every degree of heat—yet only at eight parts heat did its aroma reach its fullest, most suitable for drinking. Not even half a degree of delay could be tolerated.

This left Ning Xuan thoroughly flustered.

Sweat beaded across his forehead as he rushed forward, eyes alert to all directions, clutching the teacup as though his life depended on it.

For he truly feared—

That with even the slightest misstep, he might deliver himself straight into disaster.

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