Futile Devices Scans

Mo Yan remained silent throughout.

This only caused Ning Xuan’s already anxious heart—held in suspense—to climb straight into his throat, leaving him choking on unease, unable to sit or stand in peace.

“This is a reward bestowed upon you by the Prince,” Mo Yan finally said, only after those who had served and laid out the dishes had all withdrawn.

“Since this is your first day being transferred to serve, you will not be required to do much for now. Later, I will send someone to instruct you on the rules and taboos of serving at the Prince’s side.”

With that, the ever expressionless Mo Yan turned and left without waiting for Ning Xuan to respond—nor did he spare a moment to address the confusion and doubt written all over Ning Xuan’s face.

What kind of scene was this supposed to be?

Ning Xuan’s lips twitched, completely unable to make sense of the situation.

Yet as he looked at the table full of dishes—perfect in color, fragrance, and taste—his hunger, which had only just settled, surged back to life.

His “five organs’ temple”immediately revived with vigor, churning violently like an overturned sea.

With a sigh, Ning Xuan shuffled forward and sat at the table.

Before him lay a spread of exquisite dishes. Even the plain white rice, ordinarily the most unremarkable of foods, seemed to glow enticingly, its fragrance enough to make one’s mouth water.

Better to be a ghost stuffed to bursting than one starved to death.

At this moment, no matter how many worries or concerns he had, they all became trivial in the face of such food.

Without further hesitation, he picked up his bowl and chopsticks—forgetting entirely about table manners.

First, he had to make an offering to the “five organs’ temple”.

The chopped chili fish head was tender and fiery—so spicy that tears welled in Ning Xuan’s eyes, yet he could not stop eating.

The sweet-and-sour pork was perfectly balanced—tangy and sweet, smooth without being greasy, melting in the mouth yet still delightfully chewy—so delicious that Ning Xuan nearly lost all sense of direction.

Then there was the homestyle tofu. Though it appeared simple—white, soft tofu garnished with only a little scallion and minced ginger—the delicate texture and subtle fragrance nearly made Ning Xuan bite his tongue in astonishment.

Meat and vegetables complemented one another, each dish with its own merits—so dazzling that he could hardly decide what to eat next, or where to begin.

And beyond these—

Corn with shrimp, shredded pork in Beijing sauce, poached chicken, moo shu pork, Buddha’s vegetarian feast, eight-treasure glutinous rice, West Lake beef soup, and countless other delicacies whose names he could not even identify.

Ning Xuan had never known—

That food could be so irresistibly delicious… and yet such a torment.

Stuffed to the brim, he sprawled inelegantly across his chair, limbs splayed.

With a pained expression, he patted his now round and swollen belly—grown to several times its former size—and cast a reluctant gaze at the still plentiful dishes remaining on the table.

Cursing himself for his lack of endurance, he lamented that after only a few bites he was already full—so full he nearly felt like vomiting.

Muttering to himself, he wondered whether he could negotiate with Steward Mo later—perhaps to “store” the leftovers for himself and continue eating them the next day.

Just as such hopeful thoughts began to form—

Servant maids entered without warning, bustling in like a swarm. Without a word, they swiftly began clearing the dishes.

Ning Xuan struggled to sit upright, watching pitifully as each exquisite dish was carried away before his very eyes.

His heart filled with reluctance.

He could not help but resent himself—why hadn’t he eaten more just now?

If nothing else, he could have hidden a few plates under the bed and saved them for a midnight snack!

But this grievance lasted only a moment.

For as soon as the dishes were cleared, the maids efficiently wiped the table until it gleamed spotless.

Then, more maids entered, carrying trays of delicate plates and bowls, placing them carefully upon the table with quiet precision.

This life—why, it was more comfortable than that of an emperor!

Ning Xuan felt a drumbeat of delight echoing in his heart. At this moment, he could not help but praise his own foresight—thankfully, he had not eaten to the point of bursting earlier.

Now, as he gazed upon plate after plate of exquisite pastries, he felt as though he were floating among the clouds.

Indeed, even among servants, those who served at the Prince’s side were on an entirely different level.

Not only were the dishes astonishing, but even after the meal, there were still delicacies laid out for tea-time enjoyment.

Each and every one was something rarely seen in ordinary days.

More importantly—

Though he himself was still a servant, there were now attendants—other servants and maids—waiting upon him, serving tea and water, despite not officially belonging under his command.

Ning Xuan could not help but feel elated.

To think that in just a single day he had turned his fortunes around, his status rising by leaps and bounds—

If not for the risks involved in serving by the Prince’s side, this life was, in truth, quite agreeable.

He casually picked up a piece of crab roe pastry, took a small bite, and let it rest on his tongue as he savored it slowly.

It melted instantly—rich, fragrant, sweet—so delicious it seemed to seep straight into the depths of his heart.

Its golden hue glowed warmly beneath the oil lamp, making it all the more enticing.

Turning his head, Ning Xuan finally noticed—

The room was no longer lit by the candles used in the servants’ quarters of the back courtyard.

Though not extravagant, the oil lamp was simple yet steady.

He recalled how he and Mo Qi used to huddle by candlelight, confined to that small patch of illumination, chatting idly while being careful not to let the smoke sting their eyes.

Though Ning Xuan was delighted, he could not help but grow thoughtful.

Such a desirable position—one that others would struggle desperately to obtain, pulling strings and exhausting connections—how had such a windfall landed on his head?

As he carefully retraced the strange events of recent days—so bizarre they felt almost cursed—his fair, jade-like face gradually flushed red.

The hand that had just been leisurely holding the crab roe pastry, swaying contentedly, now trembled.

The unusual looks from others that morning…

The evasive yet suggestive words from Qing Zhu and Mo Qi…

The whispers in the dining hall at noon—mockery, envy, teasing, resentment, even congratulations—

All echoed in his ears.

The answer seemed ready to surface—

And yet, it struck him with such force that he abruptly threw the pastry away, as though it were a burning coal.

Looking at the table full of delicacies he had never even seen before, their once alluring and luxurious appearance now vanished—

To Ning Xuan, they became nothing more than sugar-coated bullets.

He staggered backward, retreating step after step—ten steps in a row—like someone fleeing a contagious plague.

Only when his back hit the wall, with nowhere left to retreat, did he stop.

Clutching his chest with one hand, he stared at the table of exquisite pastries with lingering shock and vigilance.

At this moment, how could he still have the leisure to enjoy such treats?

If this life of fine clothing and rich food, attended by others, was to be exchanged for his own body—

If it meant becoming a kept plaything of nobles and royalty—

Then Ning Xuan would rather die than accept it!

Though he had never eaten pork, he had at least seen pigs run.

From ancient times, those born into imperial families were bound by countless helpless constraints.

Schemes both open and hidden, blades without mercy, betrayal by kin, and even blood relatives turning against one another—these were commonplace.

And those who married into imperial households—

How many ever met a good end?

The victor became king, the loser a bandit.

Choose the wrong side, and one was doomed to a lifetime of loneliness and abandonment.

Even if one married the so-called true Son of Heaven, one would still be trapped within the deep palace, forced to share a husband’s favor with countless others.

No resentment, no jealousy—

One must smile sweetly, offer blessings, and appear magnanimous—

Whether sincere or feigned, one must endure it all.

Day after day, living in constant fear, calculating against others while guarding against being calculated in turn, all for the sake of competing for favor.

If he were a woman, perhaps that would be one thing.

But he was a man!

Even the means women used—bearing children to secure favor—were beyond him.

In decades to come, he would have no one to rely on.

At best, he would be a fleeting amusement—summoned on a whim, discarded when no longer entertaining, left to suffer cold disdain and humiliation.

And what he would lose would not merely be body and heart—

But also the dignity and pride of being a man.

All for nothing more than a moment’s passing amusement of an emperor.

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