074: We Are the Same Kind of People
Nolan Dongling had always known it was only natural that he’d fall in love with Serena Feng, because—
They were cut from the same cloth!
To survive, they could be ruthless to their enemies—and just as ruthless to themselves. If they could destroy an opponent at the lowest cost, both Nolan and Serena would do it without hesitation.
He was three years old that year. When he heard the Empress approaching, he didn’t hesitate to climb the artificial hill and pick a spot where he’d get hurt but not killed, then jumped down...
With a thud... He never forgot the pain of hitting the ground, nor the sound of his bones breaking. Yet in that moment, he didn’t cry. Before losing consciousness, he remembered that he smiled.
In this palace, being ruthless to others lets you climb higher; being ruthless to yourself means you survive.
The Empress wasn’t like his imperial brother. Though she dominated the harem, she still had a shred of conscience—especially since her own son had just been born, and was extremely frail.
The Empress brought Nolan back to her palace. She didn’t dote on him, but it was still better than his own quarters—at least the servants didn’t dare neglect him.
So Nolan recuperated in the Empress’s palace.
For a long time afterward, he remembered his sister-in-law’s kindness. No matter what the Crown Prince became, when Nolan had the power, he protected him as he grew up—even...
As for the young eunuch?
His sister-in-law never meant it, but to Nolan, she gave him far too much. Even if she treated him strictly by the book, he never forgot her kindness.
The Empress took one look and decided the eunuch had failed to protect his master. Dead or alive, no one blamed Nolan—the half-grown child.
Afterwards, Nolan had nightmares for a few days, but everyone assumed he was just frightened. He never showed any signs of abnormality.
Of course, the Emperor was displeased that the Empress cared for Nolan, but before he could object, the ministers praised his kindness at court, saying he treated his younger brother with true affection. Even rumors spread among the commoners...
With people like the Emperor, you can’t pressure them—only flatter them. He was talented and vengeful; when called a wise and benevolent ruler, even if he wanted to act foolish, he had to consider his reputation.
So no matter how dissatisfied he was, the Emperor could only let the Empress care for Nolan. After all, he couldn’t embarrass himself, could he?
There’s a saying: ‘For injuries to muscles and bones, it takes a hundred days to heal.’ Nolan was young and recovered quickly, but a broken bone still needed proper care—otherwise, there could be lasting problems. In this, the Empress, his sister-in-law, did exceptionally well.
Her son was born sickly, so she devoted most of her energy to caring for him. Naturally, Nolan got the same attention—whatever her son ate or used, Nolan had a share too.
Whenever the Empress’s family sent over good medicinal herbs, if Nolan could use them, she never hesitated. Thanks to her care, his injured leg healed perfectly.
But that wasn’t the most important thing. What mattered was that the Empress was highly educated—she could recite the classics backwards, her learning rivaled any man’s. Only...
The Emperor didn’t like her. She only cared for her son and had no interest in competing for favor. As long as she did her duty and maintained her dignity, that was enough.
That meant the Empress had plenty of free time, which she spent reading and writing.
Worried that a child Nolan’s age would get sick from being cooped up all day, the Empress brought her own son over and read aloud to both boys.
She didn’t expect her newborn son or a nearly three-year-old who couldn’t yet read to understand much. It was just a way to pass the time. But she didn’t know...
Her casual actions ended up benefiting Nolan immensely.
The old eunuch could only teach Nolan how to read; he didn’t understand the deeper lessons in the books, so how could he teach Nolan?
But the Empress was different. Born to a noble house, her learning was extraordinary. Even when telling stories to two children, she could weave in profound truths...
During that time, Nolan was like a sponge, absorbing all the unfamiliar yet enticing knowledge.
For a long time afterward, he remembered the Empress’s kindness. No matter what the Crown Prince became, when Nolan had the power, he protected him as he grew up—even...
In the end, he granted him the title Prince of Jiangnan.
The Empress never meant it, but to Nolan, she gave him far too much. Even if she treated him strictly by the book, he never forgot her kindness.
But...
Such a life was never meant to last. After half a year in the Empress’s quarters, Nolan moved out.
He felt no regret—he knew that kind of happiness wasn’t his, and he couldn’t afford to get lost in it.
After half a year together, the Empress was a little reluctant to see him go. She gave Nolan many things, most importantly books.
She gave him a whole set of books and warned, “Don’t read them in front of others, and don’t let anyone find out. Once you’ve memorized them, burn them immediately. If anyone discovers them, I’ll deny ever giving them to you.”
As a woman, the Empress was undoubtedly clever. She understood Nolan’s situation and the Emperor’s mind. She couldn’t treat Nolan too well, but that didn’t stop her from building goodwill.
It was simple: her son was the legitimate heir, maybe the only one. But her child was born with a heart defect. In the future...
No matter what, it was dangerous. If someone could protect him, even a little, maybe he’d have a better chance.
The Empress didn’t expect much from Nolan. It was just a small favor—she’d never do anything for him that would put herself at risk.
“Thank you, Sister-in-law.” It was the first time Nolan called her that. She froze for a moment, then smiled and ruffled his hair: “You’re a good child, and smart enough. But you’re still young—before you grow up, just be a child.”
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Her words were subtle, but four-year-old Nolan understood.
He knew this seemingly distant sister-in-law was aware the young eunuch’s death hadn’t been an accident. But even knowing, she still helped him keep the secret.
“I’ll remember what you said.” Nolan stared at the Empress, wondering if his own mother—if she hadn’t died—might have stroked his hair and told him, “Just be a child.”
But his mother was gone. All he could do was secretly watch the Empress cradle her son, feeling envy in his heart...
Back in his own quarters, life returned to monotony. The palace maids and eunuchs were replaced again, but Nolan felt nothing for them, as if he didn’t know a thing.
This new batch had surely been handpicked by his imperial brother. They delivered meals, woke him up, never let him freeze or starve. But...
They never spoke to him—not a single word. They didn’t even call him ‘master’ or ‘prince.’ Every day, they drifted in and out like ghosts.
The vast palace was deathly silent. All day, not a sound. He could only talk to himself.
If he’d been an ordinary child... Nolan thought, he’d have ended up mute, or crazy, or broken...
So many servants around, but not a single voice. Ten days, half a month, without hearing a word. The atmosphere was suffocating—even Nolan, for all his early wisdom, grew irritable for a while...
This kind of cold violence was scarier than beatings or curses.
After a month, Nolan reached his limit. With palace staff watching every move, he slipped out in the middle of the night.
Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to look for the Empress. He went to find the old eunuch—he just needed someone to say his name.
But reality taught him again what it meant to be meat on the chopping block.
The old eunuch was dead!
The only person in the palace who would protect him was gone.
He wasn’t sad or heartbroken, but he felt deeply uneasy. Even so, he never cried or lost his composure. Calmly, he began investigating: why had the old eunuch died?
He needed to know—had his imperial brother discovered something?
If that was the case, he’d have to be even more careful. In the palace, killing a child was all too easy. A single pill could choke him to death at a banquet, and no one would ever know.
He’d seen it before—a young concubine’s son somehow grabbed a round fruit and popped it into his mouth, then choked to death.
Later, Nolan learned the child had been secretly given round snacks—everything was made round and tasted wonderful...
Not every child was as precocious as he was. Eat round fruit every day, and your mind automatically thinks round fruit is delicious—so when you see one, you want to eat it.
Sooner or later, choking to death was inevitable.
In the palace, there were endless ways to kill without leaving a trace. Without parents to protect him, surviving as a child was anything but easy...
Finding out how the old eunuch died was nearly impossible for Nolan. There were no eunuchs his age—he couldn’t even pretend to be one. He could only sneak around the servants’ quarters, eavesdropping...
That way, he could gather information—and at least hear people talk, so the oppressive silence wouldn’t drive him mad.
He lived like that for a month before learning the truth: the old eunuch hadn’t been silenced by his imperial brother, but had died in an accident.
An accident?
Nolan didn’t want to admit it, but he knew it was no accident. The old eunuch had died on purpose—only death left no trace. Even if his brother investigated, he’d find nothing...
He was not yet four that year. He’d killed one person himself, and another had died because of him!
That year, he began to doubt the Three Character Classic’s line: 'At the beginning of life, people are innately good.' Because...
In his life, human nature was innately evil!
075: So I Was Just Food...
Nolan always thought that even if he wasn’t valued, he was at least watched, monitored. He assumed his imperial brother would never trust him, would never let him interact with outsiders. But at age seven, he discovered...
He’d been overthinking!
In the palace, he was utterly dispensable. Even if he vanished, not a ripple would be stirred. Children like him were never worth his brother’s attention.
To his imperial brother, killing him would be as easy as crushing an ant. The only reason he wasn’t dead was politics—not brotherly affection.
That year, he was seven. He could read, but knew nothing else. If he left the palace, he’d end up like the beggar boys in books, surviving on charity. But...
He couldn’t accept that kind of life. His nature wouldn’t let him beg for survival.
Even then, he already believed: better to die standing than live kneeling!
That year, many princes and princesses were born in the palace. But before he could learn their names, they died one by one—only a handful survived.
Once again, he saw the darkness and cold of the palace, its horrors. He longed to grow up, to reach fifteen as soon as possible.
At fifteen, he could move out, open his own residence.
He’d still live under the Emperor’s watchful eye, but at least he’d have some freedom, and could inherit the people and influence his father left outside the palace.
He believed that with such power and connections, even if he never took the throne, he could protect himself—at least he wouldn’t face death every day like now...
He longed to grow up and leave the palace, but never imagined he’d be forced out at seven, waking in a strange place with no way to defend himself.
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No matter how precocious, a child is still a child. Even if he understood more than most, waking up in a strange place, full of malice, he was still afraid.
Blood. A vivid red stain covered the floor, stinging his eyes. The stench of rot and gore made him sick to his stomach...
He vomited until his stomach was empty, then finally felt alive again. Rolling out of bed, he stepped on a severed limb and fell, face pale but silent, staring blankly at the scattered arms and legs...
Of course he was scared—anyone would be. Even if he’d killed before, he’d never seen such carnage. The sheer brutality shattered his understanding.
In the palace, killings were always bloodless. So many body parts terrified him.
He swallowed hard, telling himself: now is not the time to panic, and definitely not to cry.
From a very young age, he understood: crying brought no help, no sympathy. Tears were for the weak—he’d rather bleed than cry.
Nolan carefully curled up, backing away until he pressed against the bed. Only then did he feel a little safer.
Where on earth was he?
Why am I here?
Where’s my brother?
The people from the palace?
Did anyone notice I’m gone? Will they come to rescue me?
These thoughts flashed through my mind, but I quickly pushed them aside, because I knew...
No one would come for me. Even if I vanished mysteriously from the palace, no one would ask a single question. My life and death didn’t matter—at least, not to anyone else.
Faced with a room full of corpses, I was terrified but didn’t back down. I suppressed my fear, stood up by the bed—and then I saw...
The 'bed' behind me was made of skulls, stacked one atop another. I could still see fresh blood on the bones...
Just a moment ago, I’d been sleeping on them, leaning against them...
Ugh...
I wanted to vomit again, but my stomach was already empty—there was nothing left to throw up.
This room terrified me, down to my soul. I didn’t dare scream or cry—I could only run, driven by one thought: I had to get out of this hell...
There was no one outside. I ran out easily and started to feel relieved—but soon realized I was too naive. The place was surrounded by sea; no matter where I ran, there was no escape...
What happens when a seven-year-old jumps into the ocean?
I didn’t know about anyone else, but I knew—if I jumped, I’d be dead for sure. And I...
I didn’t want to die!
Without hesitation, I turned back...
'The brat really did come back.' When I returned, I saw four burly men outside the house, gathered around a fire, roasting something...
'Smart kid—not dumb enough to jump.' They chatted loudly, not caring about my presence at all.
It made sense—any one of those men could crush me with one hand. Why would they care about me?
I kept my distance—neither approaching nor retreating. The four men didn’t care, busy turning the meat roasting over the fire. I couldn’t see what it was, only knew it smelled delicious...
My stomach was empty and I was starving. Even if life in the palace was dangerous, I’d never really gone hungry—cold food was still food. But here...
I had no idea how long I’d been gone from the palace, but it must’ve been a while. After all, I knew from my studies that there was no place surrounded by sea near the capital.
So hungry—especially with that aroma drifting through the air. But I knew I couldn’t go near, couldn’t sell myself for a bite to eat.
I stood quietly, watching them. It wasn’t a standoff with them—it was a battle with myself.
The four men kept an eye on me. Seeing me stand motionless, they started chatting again: 'The brat’s got guts, holding out like this. He hasn’t eaten in days.'
'This kid isn’t ordinary, not like the runts you’ve met before. Children of power always have some strange pride.'
'Not just rich or powerful—he’s a prince. That’s way above money and influence.'
I was stunned. They knew who I was?
Then why did they kidnap me?
To threaten my brother?
Don’t be ridiculous. My brother would never admit it, let alone compromise for my life. If I were him, and received such a threat, I’d tell the bandits: 'My ninth brother is still in the palace. I don’t know where you found some brat pretending to be a prince. If you don’t surrender, your whole clan will be wiped out!'
See? So easy. Just one sentence and my identity is denied. Besides palace people, almost no one has seen me.
Just put a child in the palace to play the role, and in a few years, let 'him' die in an accident.
Kidnapped from the palace, I never naively hoped my brother would send help, nor did I expect my father’s people to rescue me.
I didn’t even know where my father’s people were, or if they’d hear about my disappearance.
I stood there, thinking about my predicament, searching for a way out, trying not to let the smell of food sway me. But the men’s words still reached my ears.
'The kid’s skin is soft, and he’s thin but still got some meat. Wonder how he tastes?' One of the men bit into his roast, the greasy meat looked delicious...
But the shape of that meat... it seemed familiar?
'Corpse Three, don’t even think about it. We said the kid’s a prince—he’s off limits.'
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Eat?
My eyes widened instantly. I knew what kind of meat that man was eating—it was...
A human arm.
I’d just seen it in the house—the man was eating human flesh...
'This batch of two-legged lamb is so tough. Why do they always leave us the skinny, scrawny ones? Can’t they fatten them up a bit?'
Corpse Three’s words drew agreement: 'My teeth are worn out, eating this tough meat every day. No fat, no strength for work.'
'That kid looks alright—got some meat, hasn’t been ruined by poison. Why not roast him?' As they spoke, they looked at me—the way they looked...
It was like they were looking at a pig.
A pig ready to be thrown on the fire at any moment.
I don’t remember how I felt then—certainly not fear, because...
At that moment, I decided: better to risk the sea than be roasted and eaten.
Better to be fish food than human food. That’s when I understood: between two evils, choose the lesser.
Luckily, they seemed wary of my status. They only talked, never acted. After a few nasty comments...
One of them warned: 'He’s an important charge from above. Whether he lives or dies isn’t our concern, but we can’t eat him.'
At the reminder, one of them tossed me a piece of roasted human flesh.
Without looking back, they left me with the meat, not worried I’d escape—or perhaps they knew I couldn’t.
Staring at the golden-brown roasted flesh, I found myself not afraid—instead, I laughed...
Hahaha...
So, in others’ eyes, I was just a meal.
Human life is so cheap.
In that moment, I understood what it meant: Heaven and earth are heartless, treating all things as straw dogs; the sage is heartless, treating the people as straw dogs.
At the same time, I was grateful for my birth—at least it stopped them from roasting me.
As for the flesh on the ground?
I sneered...