Chapter 3 – Someone Stealing Clothes

On the first day of transmigration, Pei Zhuo slept soundly during the first half of the night. In the latter half, he was woken by the sudden ghostly cawing of crows outside. After that, all he had were dreams.

First, he dreamt of the results coming out after the senior year’s monthly exams. He and Pei Qingxu were going over the students’ grades at his sickbed. Pei Qingxu advised him on each student’s personality and how to encourage them through tailored teaching methods… The scene was pale and quiet, then a red glow descended from the horizon, gradually dyeing the entire land crimson. In Pei Zhuo’s hand was a red silk ribbon, and at the other end of the ribbon was—

The system cheerfully congratulated him on a blissful union and early offspring, and tossed a handful of longans, peanuts, and red dates onto his bed.

Pei Zhuo was tormented all night by the peanuts and dates, tossing and turning. Annoyed, he grabbed a handful, wanting to sweep away the bothersome things. He opened his eyes in frustration to find a handful of bright red peanuts in his palm. The moment he saw them clearly, sweat instantly broke out on Pei Zhuo’s forehead. 

No way! Last night…

Wait, no… He felt completely clean.

Pei Zhuo let out a sigh of relief and stared at the peanuts in his hand. He remembered now—before he transmigrated, that night, he had already climbed into bed when he suddenly remembered a package that had been sitting downstairs for five days. If he stayed in bed for another two days and nights, the delivery would probably get returned.

Fighting off sleepiness, Pei Zhuo went down to retrieve the package and ran into the elderly neighbor lady on the first floor. She had a garden and had just harvested a row of peanuts. Seeing how pale and exhausted Pei Zhuo looked lately, she gave him a handful out of pity. “Red-skinned peanuts replenish your blood and energy—use them to make soy milk.”

Unable to refuse her kindness, Pei Zhuo stuffed both his pockets full of peanuts. After returning to his room, he forgot to take them out and went straight to sleep.

Staring at the peanuts, Pei Zhuo dazed out. If he had a pocketful of marbles instead, he could probably trick some ancient people out of a fortune.

That old neighbor was a great farmer—the peanuts were large and full. Still irritated from his dream, Pei Zhuo decided to roast them right away into crunchy peanuts. The plain congee and side dishes here lacked any richness; he needed to replenish his energy to sleep better.

He tossed a peanut into the air and caught it in his mouth. Raw peanuts had a flavor of their own.

As he chewed, Pei Zhuo suddenly thought of something and rescued the second peanut from his mouth just in time.

These were peanuts. They could be planted. Modern peanut yields were definitely much higher than in ancient times. They were also less prone to trait separation like hybrid rice. Farmers could even save seeds and plant them again the next year.

These precious peanuts could be used as seeds. Roasting them was a waste of potential.

Regretfully abandoning the idea of roasted peanuts, Pei Zhuo knelt on his bed and carefully picked up every single peanut kernel that had rolled around all night in his pockets. He wrapped them up in a piece of cloth.

It was spring now—perfect for sowing. When he had money, he would hire an experienced farmer to help him plant them.

If he never got the money… then he’d have to work the fields himself.

The next day, Pei Zhuo found a stack of paper and a brush in the room. His father had taught him calligraphy. Pei Zhuo ground some ink and spread out the rice paper.

A good memory was no match for a bad pen.

Thanks to being a senior class teacher, he had re-mastered most of the biology and chemistry knowledge he’d once forgotten, all for the sake of answering student questions. He wouldn’t forget math knowledge, so he’d postpone that and focus on recording the other subjects he remembered first.

The study faced south, bathed in bright sunlight. Pei Zhuo leaned over the desk, writing textbooks. He worked backwards, starting from senior high school: chemistry first, then physics. When he got hungry, someone brought him food. When he got sleepy, he’d just lie down and sleep. Earning a living could wait. He could mooch off free meals for a few more days—thanks to some man being willing to support another man in the name of science and education.

***

“Time to eat,” the man in black who delivered his meals was growing increasingly familiar in tone.

Pei Zhuo dropped his brush and ran out, “Let me see—do we have fried chicken drumsticks?”

“No.”

Pei Zhuo sighed. At this rate, I won’t be able to resist roasting those peanuts.

Well-fed and well-rested, the bluish tint under his eyes disappeared. His features were delicate as a painting, lips red and teeth white.

Li Er marveled inwardly. Same rice, raised a hundred different people. His Highness didn’t say whether to raise him with wealth or frugally, so they just gave him standard guard rations—big portions, enough to fill him up. Yet even though he ate the same food as his brothers, who all had thick necks and loud voices, Pei Zhuo only grew more handsome each day, whiter and more radiant than the finest eastern pearls in the prince’s private collection.

The only issue was that he always looked freshly woken—hair messy, lashes half-lowered. Ask him once and he’d say he just woke up. Ask again and he’d say he was about to go back to sleep.

The next morning, when Li Er brought breakfast, Pei Zhuo didn’t run out to grab it like he had at dinner. Worried he might’ve run off, Li Er leapt onto the roof and lifted a tile.

He saw Pei Zhuo sound asleep, half his body hanging off the bed. Looked like he wouldn’t be needing breakfast today.

How has His Highness resisted coming to see even once? The great beauty is so bored he just sleeps all day!

***

In the afternoon, Pei Zhuo tried heating water for a bath. First, he drew water from the well, washed out the pot, then filled it and lit a fire, sitting by the stove to tend the flames.

The house didn’t have much furniture, but oddly enough the kitchen had a huge pot, perfect for boiling water. There was even a bath barrel large enough for two people. Talk about obvious intentions!

Pei Zhuo bathed quickly and then started doing laundry.

He felt a deep affection for the pajamas and underwear he’d brought through the transmigration. He washed them gently, trying to extend their lifespan as much as possible.

But after he changed into ancient clothes, Pei Zhuo realized a major problem—once he washed his underwear, he had no underwear to wear.

Ah… it felt so breezy down there. So uncomfortable.

He wrung the underwear dry and, while the evening sun was still out, quickly hung it up to dry.

The pair had cost him just over ten yuan—not even 100% cotton, 95% spandex—but now he wouldn’t dare throw them out even when they wore out.

The good news? They were brand new and still very stretchy.

Ancient clothes had virtually no elasticity in the modern sense. Pei Zhuo thought of the phrase “everything waiting to be rebuilt”—textiles, medicine, agriculture… If it all relied on him alone, who knew how long it would take? He’d need to cultivate a group of people and ideally just pass the technology from the system directly to others for research.

Absentmindedly, he tugged on the underwear, stretching it wide enough for a 200-jin (100 kg) man to wear. The moment he let go, it snapped right back into shape.

“Ah, if only the textile industry could be as excellent as you,” he sighed.

Li Er, who was watching secretly, widened his eyes. That fabric… is incredible! Never seen anything like it!

Before he began surveillance, the boss had warned him that Pei Zhuo was full of suspicious points—especially his clothes. The crown prince had mentioned that they weren’t produced anywhere in Great Xuan. In cases like this, they usually suspected the person was a foreigner with ill intent.

The crown prince was leaving Pei Zhuo alone on purpose, waiting for him to expose a flaw on his own.

This piece of fabric might be a new clue.

Li Er only found it remarkable but couldn’t see any further evidence. However, the crown prince was different. He was well-traveled and knowledgeable—just a glance from afar and he’d sensed that Pei Zhuo’s identity was out of the ordinary. If he took a closer look… 

He had to find a way to inform the crown prince.

Before falling asleep, Pei Zhuo felt like he had forgotten something. It wasn’t until he was groggy that he remembered—he forgot to take in the laundry. Wrapped in his quilt, he debated for a while but still didn’t want to get up and go outside. It was too cold, and too dark. If he fell, the consequences would be unimaginable. 

He had lived here for two days and trusted the security completely. No one would steal clothes—people, maybe, but not clothes.

***

At the hour of the Rabbit (5-7 a.m.), the sky was just beginning to brighten. Officials entered the palace one after another through the Dezheng Gate. The grand tutor, back straight, walked at the front of the line as he had every day for the past eighteen years. Civil and military officials were allowed to request leave if unwell, but the grand tutor had almost never missed a single morning court session.

Xiao Xun had stayed overnight in a side courtyard. He arrived at the palace at dawn, no later than the grand tutor, and had already dealt with several internal palace matters while waiting for court to begin.

Chief Eunuch Quan Fu reported softly, “His Majesty has been favoring Noble Consort Yan recently, staying at Qingyu Palace for an entire month.”

With the inner palace lacking a proper mistress, Noble Consort Yan, emboldened by imperial favor, had grown arrogant and spent her days sowing discord between the emperor and the princes.

Quan Fu lowered his voice even more. “The imperial physician took His Majesty’s pulse and suspects that Noble Consort Yan has been putting something in his tea.”

While praising His Majesty’s virility, Noble Consort Yan also claimed that the princes had grown too bold and no longer respected their father. She criticized the crown prince for not accompanying the emperor on the spring hunt—implying he was taking advantage of His Majesty’s absence to scheme something treasonous.

Not just the crown prince—the second and third princes weren’t spared either.

Noble Consort Yan accused the second prince, who oversaw the purchase of warhorses from the Western Regions, of corruption. The most handsome white horse, instead of being gifted to the emperor, was kept for himself—parading through the capital in red robes on a horse twice the size of the one offered to His Majesty. “When mounted, he’s a full head taller than the emperor.”

As for the third prince, she accused him of hoarding military power. After quelling the rebellion in Nanjiang, he had yet to voluntarily return command of his troops.

Noble Consort Yan suggested all the princes copy the Classic of Filial Piety twelve times, to see who submitted theirs first—who was truly obedient to the emperor.

His Majesty adopted her suggestion.

Since the Classic of Filial Piety couldn’t be copied in one day, all four princes were summoned to the palace and scolded.

After getting scolded first thing in the morning, Xiao Zheng and Xiao Fei didn’t look happy. They feared the crown prince would again finish first, burning the midnight oil without rest. Consort Li and Consort Xian had sent their sons ginseng tea, urging them not to let the crown prince outdo them.

But the crown prince hadn’t finished either! He too was harshly berated.

The two younger brothers finally breathed a sigh of relief—at least they wouldn’t get scolded again by their mothers.

Quan Fu, concerned, said, “The fourth prince fell ill this morning from exhaustion.”

Copying the Classic of Filial Piety had formal requirements—one had to dress properly, fast, bathe, and sit outdoors. It was supposed to be a moving display of filial piety that moved the heavens and brought blessings to the emperor.

Since the fourth prince’s mother died young, the nanny caring for him feared she’d be punished if he failed to finish copying. Especially now, with Noble Consort Yan fanning the flames and nitpicking constantly, the nanny had kept begging the young prince to keep writing. A seven-year-old didn’t have the cunning of an adult—he literally froze himself sick.

Xiao Xun nodded and said, “Understood. Have the imperial physician stand by.”

Quan Fu said, “His Majesty should be looking for you soon. This old servant takes his leave.”

After court ended, officials filed out in an orderly stream. The grand tutor still led the way, hurrying back to the Wenyuan Pavilion.

Outside the Xuanzheng Hall, Li Ruyi waited thick-skinned for the crown prince. As soon as he came out, Li Ruyi followed him and said, speechless, “The grand tutor gets up at 3 a.m., while Pei Zhuo is still in bed at noon. If the grand tutor knew his son was sleeping till midday, wouldn’t he chase him with a big stick—”

Are they really father and son? Maybe they just look alike by coincidence?

“Not necessarily.”

How could the grand tutor treat his own son with the same strictness he applied to the heir of the empire?

Xiao Xun, holding his unfinished Classic of Filial Piety, handed it to Li Ruyi. “Burn it.”

Li Ruyi tucked the scroll into his robe—it was filled with the crown prince’s earlier calligraphy practice. Who cared about the Classic of Filial Piety? The crown prince was busy managing state affairs—he had no time for that kind of thing.

Li Ruyi, somewhat disapproving, said, “Precisely because he’s strict with Your Highness, he should treat his son the same. The grand tutor will definitely chase him out of bed.”

Xiao Xun smiled faintly and said, “The grand tutor once explained the origin of his eldest son Pei Xianjue’s name.”

“What is it?”

“Read more books and you’ll know.”

—”Who wakes from the great dream first? In this life, I alone know myself.”

(T/N: a five-character quatrain written by Zhuge Liang from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms)

Xiao Xun asked, “Any progress in investigating the commander of Qiangui?”

“The people who brought Pei Zhuo here have all disappeared. I’ve already sent men to Qiannan to find Jiang Yugui. Oh, and Li Er said he has important clues to report.”

***

Pei Zhuo had rarely gotten up an hour early. Stretching lazily, a line of verse from Zhuge Wuhou’s poetry floated into his mind.

“Spring naps in a thatched cottage, sunlight lingering outside the window.”

Even someone like Zhuge, who devoted his life to duty, had days like this—life should be slept through when it ought to be.

Oh, what’s that dream I had again? Right. I dreamt that someone had stolen my precious pajamas.

Pei Zhuo yawned absentmindedly and shuffled over to the window. He peered through a gap and—

??!!

Where are my underwear? Blown away by the wind?

Pei Zhuo rushed out the door, circling the house three times front and back, then stood on a chair to get a better look over the wall, checking if they had fallen outside.

Nothing.

Pei Zhuo returned to the scene of the crime and looked up at the crow’s nest. They hadn’t been taken to build a nest, either. He was sure he’d hung up his underwear the same way as his pajamas—no way the wind could’ve carried them off so easily.

Stolen? Did I jinx myself with this crow’s mouth of mine?

Pei Zhuo’s face, still flushed from just waking up, changed color several times.

Why steal just the underwear? What kind of pervert—?

***

Xiao Xun stared at the cloth bundle in front of him, Li Er’s major discovery.

It was so significant that Li Er hadn’t dared touch it directly. He’d wrapped it tightly in a clean cloth like he was handling stolen goods and placed it right on the crown prince’s desk.

Xiao Xun unwrapped the bundle in silence. It was…

“Leave.”

Li Er and Li Ruyi retreated to the doorway.

Li Er said, “Your Highness, try pulling it.”

Xiao Xun closed his eyes for a moment, then reached out and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. The texture was astonishing. He pinched both ends and gave it a tug. It could stretch several times its original length without losing its form or tightness.

How was this even made?

Li Ruyi, having seen enough, marveled, “Truly a work of unmatched craftsmanship!”

Xiao Xun rubbed his forehead. “But this seems like Pei Zhuo’s undergarment. You stole—”

Borrowing it to show the noble and exalted crown prince—how could that count as stealing?

Li Er, ever blunt, said, “Then shall I return it now?”

Sir Pei was still asleep—he wouldn’t know a thing.

Xiao Xun thought for a moment, then tapped the table with his knuckles. “Leave it.” 

The Jiangnan textile delegation would be arriving in the capital at the beginning of next month. He’d cut off a piece then and have them study it. 

Not like he could steal it again when the time came.