Chapter 87: Recuperation

A sturdy guard raised the board high, its broad surface whistling through the air, about to land heavily on Mo Dun’s backside. Resigned to his fate, Mo Dun closed his eyes, hoping desperately that Master Hua would intervene in time to save him. Judging by the force behind that swing, Mo Dun feared his life would be halved by the blow. He prayed silently, wishing for a miracle.

“Crack!”

The sound of wood striking flesh rang out clearly.

“Huh!”

Mo Dun opened his eyes in surprise—it wasn’t as painful as he’d imagined. Yet Qin Huaiyu and the other two cried out with such misery that Mo Dun couldn’t help but turn his head in confusion.

“Fool! Hurry and scream!” Qin Huaiyu winked and whispered.

Suddenly enlightened, Mo Dun let out a loud, anguished howl, his performance so exaggerated one might think the pain had only just arrived.

Behind him, the guard smiled wryly. In their line of work, one must know how to read the room. A board raised high can have vastly different effects depending on intent. If the emperor was truly angered, the blow would be solid, leaving skin torn and flesh bruised. But when only appearances were needed, the guard would pull back at the last moment, making a grand show of force but causing little real harm—just a few surface bruises that would heal in a couple of days.

Moreover, three of these four were sons of the current dukes, and the fourth was an authentic founding count. The guards had already been hinted to merely go through the motions.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

The four competed with each other, each scream more heart-rending than the last—a performance worthy of an award.

But even a staged beating was still a beating. In the end, the accumulated pain from the boards was quite real, and the four transitioned from acting to genuine agony, their cries now heartfelt.

At last, ten strokes were finished. The four lay prone, clutching their backsides and gasping for air, faces filled with grievance. Qin Huaiyu and his friends lamented their misfortune—what should have been an achievement worthy of history had ended in punishment.

Mo Dun, more speechless than ever, looked at his companions. This disaster was truly undeserved; had he not been dragged along by these three, he wouldn’t have suffered at all.

“Hiss!”

Mo Dun tried to get up, but a sharp pain forced him back down, letting out another cry as he crawled back to his spot.

---

The three friends were fretting about how to return home when suddenly a carriage stopped in front of them, driven by a familiar face—a eunuch from Li Chengqian’s retinue.

“The Crown Prince has instructed me to take you four home,” the eunuch announced in his sharp voice.

Mo Dun and the others were embarrassed. Li Chengqian had not only learned of their punishment but also kindly arranged their return. With the hot air balloon soaring over Chang’an, it was inevitable that the Crown Prince would hear the news.

“Please thank the Crown Prince for us!” Mo Dun said, cupping his hands in gratitude.

The four struggled onto the carriage, discovering that Li Chengqian had thoughtfully prepared fur blankets.

---

Spring had returned to the land, with the weather gradually warming. Though mornings were still chilly, the midday sun provided ample warmth, making one feel cozy under its rays.

Mo Dun lay under a large willow tree in the rear garden of the Mo residence, greedily absorbing the heat like a sunbathing dog. The willow’s drooping branches were tinged with green, promising new buds soon. When they did, the scene would be enchanting once more.

Cool medicinal ointment was applied to his wounds, bringing instant comfort to his bruised backside. Truly, Master Hua’s secret recipe was remarkable; the pain subsided greatly, and in less than two days, the swelling had gone down, leaving only a few lingering bruises.

“Master Hua said it’s just surface wounds now—another two days and you’ll be fine!” Ziyi said, carefully setting down the ointment and sitting beside Mo Dun. Seeing Mo Dun lying there, a strange joy warmed her heart. Ever since Mo Dun arrived in Chang’an, most of his time was spent at the Imperial Academy, and they no longer enjoyed the carefree days they once had in Mo Family Village.

Though Ziyi was nominally Mo Dun’s maid, Uncle Fu and all the elders treated her as their own daughter, never letting her do any work whether at the Scholar’s Pavilion or the Fresh Fish Shop. Ziyi found herself bored all day long.

On top of that, Mo Dun, with his experience from the future, handled most things himself, rarely needing Ziyi’s help. Now, with Mo Dun bedridden, Ziyi finally felt she had a purpose.

“Two days?” Mo Dun frowned. “No, tell them it’ll take five days. Get me five days leave from the Imperial Academy!”

Such a rare opportunity to avoid the Academy must be maximized.

“Haha, Mo, you truly think like a hero! We’ve just gotten five days leave from the Academy ourselves,” Qin Huaiyu shouted from afar, his voice cracking with adolescence.

“If that stubborn old man at the Academy hadn’t insisted on checking our injuries for any more leave, I could’ve gotten ten days off,” Cheng Chumo grumbled.

Yuchi Baolin nodded regretfully. He was the worst student and had no interest in the Academy at all.

Mo Dun was speechless. He admired the three’s resilience—they were already hobbling about, while he could barely move.

“Ziyi, brew some tea for our guests, and bring out a few brocade stools!” Mo Dun instructed.

---

“No need to trouble yourself, Sister Ziyi. We’ll just stand!” the three replied with forced smiles; their wounds still too tender to sit.

“Hmph!”

Ziyi shot them a glare and reluctantly went to prepare tea. In her eyes, these three were just Mo Dun’s mischievous friends.

Before Mo Dun met them, he was exemplary—leading Mo Family Village in selling live fish, getting rich, a model youth. Since befriending them, he’d been punished by the Imperial Academy and now embroiled in the hot air balloon fiasco, earning a beating. If that wasn’t the definition of bad influence, what was?

Little did she know, the three were equally aggrieved. They’d only wanted to slack off and skip their assignments, but were promptly reported by Kong Yingda. Trying to show off in front of some aristocrats, they ended up causing a citywide sensation.

“Mo Dun, how did we end up so unlucky? All this was our achievement, yet we get punished while others reap the rewards,” Qin Huaiyu sighed.

“Exactly! Mo the Third we don’t mind—he’s one of us. But Old Lu Ding was actually granted a title by His Majesty and is now out there debunking hot air balloon rumors all over the city!” Cheng Chumo complained.

With the hot air balloon soaring over Chang’an, the city was abuzz, everyone proclaiming the ‘Sheep Immortal’ had returned. To quell the frenzy, Lu Ding was leading the balloon around the city, dispelling the superstitions.

“You dare complain? If you hadn’t dragged me along, I wouldn’t have gotten caught up in this mess,” Mo Dun said, still resentful. He hadn’t expected his friends to be so unreliable, all their efforts undone by a single rope.

The three lapsed into awkward silence.

“Mo Dun, do you have any other ideas—ones that aren’t dangerous?” Qin Huaiyu ventured hopefully.

“No,” Mo Dun replied firmly, shaking his head. If he went through another disaster, next time it wouldn’t just be his backside at risk.

“Well, that’s that then,” Qin Huaiyu said with regret, though he had to admit he was wary of Mo Dun’s schemes. Brilliant as they were, they always seemed to stir up trouble.