SFP - Chapter 4

It was a quiet morning in the palace, the kind of calm only achievable after a night of heavy rain and heavier sleep. Birds chirped like it was their job (which it was), and servants bustled through corridors like ants with embroidered trays. The sun had barely peeked out when Eunuch Zhao tiptoed into Lin Xiao's chamber, his expression a practiced blend of hope and dread.

"Your Highness... it's time," Eunuch Zhao called out softly, inching closer to the massive bed.

A lump stirred beneath a mountain of silk blankets. Then, a soft groan.

"No, it isn't," came Lin Xiao's muffled protest. "Time is a social construct." His voice was thick with sleep and philosophical resentment.

Eunuch Zhao exhaled patiently. "Today is your first day at the Royal Academy."

The lump swore. Loudly. And added a pillow toss for dramatic effect.

Fifteen minutes later, Lin Xiao was dressed like a proper prince—reluctantly. His ceremonial robe was slightly crooked, his hair only half-tied, and his expression that of a man wronged by fate and forced out of bed far too early. He leaned on Eunuch Zhao as if gravity had suddenly increased around him.

"Why must I study what I already know I’ll ignore?" he asked while chewing on a sesame bun with all the enthusiasm of a sloth forced to jog.

"It’s imperial protocol, Your Highness. Also, the Empress personally requested you attend," Eunuch Zhao said with a careful tone, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.

Lin Xiao paused, eyes narrowing. He considered the political implications of disappointing the Empress. Then he sighed.

"Fine. But only if they have cushions. I refuse to let my buttocks suffer in the name of Confucius."

The Royal Academy of Yuan was a majestic building of jade pillars and golden roof tiles. Its gates opened with the kind of slow, regal creak that suggested even the hinges were educated. Rows of young nobles in crisp robes stood in attention as Lin Xiao's carriage rolled in.

A hush fell.

A duck quacked.

Lin Xiao stepped out, fan in hand, expression blank. He looked around like a man facing exile. "Greetings, fellow victims of academic torment," he announced solemnly.

Several students gasped. One bowed. Another whispered, "He speaks like a retired philosopher who’s given up."

Lin Xiao took a long, slow look around. "Is there a nap chamber or must I create one with desk arrangements?" he asked, voice utterly sincere.

His assigned seat was near the window—a strategic location for cloud watching and potential escape. The lecturer, a strict-looking man with a beard shaped like a question mark, began with Confucian classics.

"The path to wisdom begins with respect," the lecturer intoned.

Lin Xiao, scribbling lazily in his notebook: Path to wisdom = paved with snacks and naps

Eunuch Zhao, seated behind as an observer, coughed violently, clearly regretting his existence. The lecturer asked a question to the class: "What is the foundation of governance?"

Lin Xiao raised his fan. "Food security and afternoon naps."

A pause.

"Would you care to elaborate, Prince Lin Xiao?" the lecturer asked, trying to remain composed.

"Governance begins with not being hungry or sleepy," Lin Xiao said, deadpan. "No rebellion ever started after a nap and a bowl of noodles. Unless someone stole the noodles."

The class broke into muffled laughter. One student tried to hide behind his book as his shoulders shook.

The lecturer blinked. Then slowly… nodded. "Unexpected... but valid."

By lunch, Lin Xiao had somehow gathered a small following. Three noble sons sat around him under a plum tree, listening intently as he described his philosophy of minimal effort, maximum peace.

"But what about the throne?" one whispered, eyes wide.

"Let it be a shelf," Lin Xiao replied, sipping tea. "Put nice things on it, admire from afar. Never climb. Unless you’re cleaning dust."

Another student clapped. A third bowed and muttered, "Master Lin has ascended."

Eunuch Zhao, watching from a distance, sighed. "He’s founding a cult of comfort."

The duck, pecking at Lin Xiao’s leftover rice, quacked approvingly and hopped onto his lap. Lin Xiao casually fed it a pickled plum.

"See? Even the duck understands me," Lin Xiao said, gently patting the bird's head as though he were conferring a scholarly degree.

The next class involved calisthenics and sword stances. Lin Xiao stood stiffly with the others as the instructor barked out instructions.

"Bend your knees! Lower stance!"

Lin Xiao whimpered. "I bent them yesterday. They're still emotionally recovering."

The instructor glared. "Again!"

Lin Xiao slowly sank into a shallow squat, making exaggerated creaking noises with his mouth. "Ehhhhh... gruuuh... My noble lineage is disintegrating with every squat."

A fellow student fell over laughing. Eunuch Zhao covered his face with both hands.

That evening, reports reached the Emperor.

"Your Majesty, the Fifth Prince attended all classes, submitted his scrolls, and led a peer discussion on the political benefits of shared nap times."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "...And the outcome?"

"He has been nominated as Student Representative for Innovative Thinking."

The Emperor leaned back. "Xiang'er’s child is strange. But effective."

Meanwhile, Lin Xiao, back in his chamber, sprawled on a bamboo mat, looked up at the stars.

"They made me class leader," he mumbled, in disbelief.

Eunuch Zhao gasped. "Truly? Your Highness, this is a great honor!"

"Yeah..." Lin Xiao yawned. "Next thing you know, they'll ask me to reform the school. Or worse, attend meetings."

[System Alert: Side Quest Complete – "Disrupt Education Gently"]
[Reward: Prestige +500 | Blueprint Unlocked: Lazy Desk Arrangement – Sent to Parallel World]

Far away, in the drought-stricken world, the other Lin Xiao received the desk blueprint and used it to build shaded study corners for village children.

They called it the "Wisdom Nook." He smiled.

And somewhere, across space and time, two salted fish kept swimming in different directions—but with the same laid-back heart.

SFP - Chapter 3

There were few things in the world that Lin Xiao truly feared. Rainy days without tea. Stairs. And the words “public appearance.” Unfortunately, one of those was now scribbled in bold brushstrokes on the ceremonial scroll laid before him.

“Fifth Prince Lin Xiao shall attend the Mid-Spring Blessing Ceremony as royal witness, accompanied by his siblings and attendants.”

“...A royal witness?” Lin Xiao repeated blankly.

Eunuch Zhao nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“So I just… stand there?”

“Correct.”

“Do I need to say anything?”

“No, Your Highness.”

Lin Xiao leaned forward suspiciously. “Then why does this sound like a trap?”

Zhao looked confused. “Trap, Your Highness?”

“Whenever someone says ‘you don’t need to do anything,’ I always end up doing something. Last time, they said I was just going to observe archery practice, and somehow I ended up as the target!”

Zhao coughed. “A misunderstanding, surely.”

“They taped a bullseye to my back!”

“…That eunuch has since been reassigned.”

“To the stables?”

“No, the moat.”

Preparing Lin Xiao for his royal outing was like preparing a cat for a bath. Three attendants were needed just to coax him out of bed. Two more to keep him from crawling back in. By the time they got him upright, washed, and robed, it looked less like a prince being dressed and more like a hostage situation.

“Your Highness, lift your arm.”

“Why?”

“To fit the sleeve.”

“I like my arms where they are.”

“Your Highness, this is a formal event.”

“And this is a human arm. It bends for naps, not brocade.”

Eventually, Lin Xiao stood, dressed in shimmering pale green robes, his hair combed back with an elegant jade pin. He stared at his reflection in the polished bronze mirror. “I look... competent,” he whispered in horror.

Zhao clapped his hands. “Your Highness, you look magnificent!”

“I look like I have responsibility!” said Lin Xiao.

At the main palace gate, the imperial procession was already assembling. The Crown Prince stood tall in white and gold, flanked by the Second Prince Lin Yan, Third Prince Lin Qifan, and Fourth Prince Lin Rui—all gleaming like model citizens.

Then came the sisters: Princess Lin Mingyue in cool lavender, and Princess Lin Huixin with a fan that said “Yes, I’m judging you.” 

When Lin Xiao arrived, five heads turned. Then blinked. Hard.

“…Is that Lin Xiao?” Huixin asked.

“I thought he was a myth,” Qifan murmured.

“I thought he was dead,” Lin Yan said honestly.

Fengyuan, the Crown Prince, narrowed his eyes. “No. He’s… dressed.”

Lin Xiao shuffled forward like someone who had just learned what pants were. “Don’t make this weird.”

“You combed your hair,” Huixin pointed.

“It was combed for me,” Lin Xiao corrected.

“Are you okay?” asked Mingyue. “Blink twice if someone is forcing you.”

“I’m here as a witness,” Lin Xiao said, voice flat. “I will witness. Then I will flee.”

Fengyuan chuckled. “Just don’t fall asleep during the ritual.”

Lin Xiao’s expression didn’t change.

“No promises.”

The Mid-Spring Blessing Ceremony was a time-honored tradition. There were prayers, incense, officials dressed like walking tapestries, and an unnerving amount of fruit pyramids. Lin Xiao’s job was simple: stand there and look princely.

He stood for ten minutes.

By minute eleven, his knees trembled.

By minute twelve, he yawned loud enough for three ministers to flinch.

By minute fifteen…

He sat down.

Right in the middle of the platform. Cross-legged. Like a kid at story time. A collective gasp ran through the court. Lin Xiao rubbed his eyes. “I’m witnessing,” he said defensively.

Fengyuan pinched the bridge of his nose.

The Minister of Rites started sweating.

Someone dropped a ceremonial gourd.

And then it got worse.

Because just then, a duck—an actual duck, fat and yellow—waddled up the stairs onto the platform. Lin Xiao blinked. “Commander Quack?” The duck quacked and sat beside him.

There was silence.

Then Lin Xiao, with all the poise of a man who had nothing left to lose, reached into his sleeve and pulled out a rice cracker. “Want one?” The duck accepted.

He fed it.

Right there. In front of three foreign envoys, the imperial family, and a very confused Empress Dowager.

Later that day, court gossip exploded. “Did you hear? The Fifth Prince communicates with ducks.”

“They say he’s inherited the lost art of beast-speech.”

“I heard the duck bowed to him!”

“No, no, it was a spiritual pact!”

“My cousin’s friend’s nephew said the duck flew from the heavens and chose him!”

Lin Xiao, sipping tea in his courtyard and feeding breadcrumbs to his new duck companion, listened to the rumors with one eye half-closed. “Should I correct them?” he asked lazily.

[System Alert: Reputation +10 – 'Mystic Lazy Prince']

[Title acquired: ‘Duck Whisperer’]

“…I like this system.”

“Your Highness… what exactly did you do at the ceremony?” Eunuch Zhao asked with a trembling voice, his hands quivering as he poured tea. He had served many masters, but never one who shared rice crackers with sacred animals during state rituals.

Lin Xiao shrugged lazily, propping his feet on a cushion and gently flicking away a leaf that had landed on his sleeve. “I witnessed. I sat. I fed a duck. That’s three more things than I intended to do.”

Zhao pressed a hand to his chest, wheezing like a punctured bellows. “The ministers are in chaos! The Minister of Rites fainted. The Left Grand Secretary has written an eighty-seven-line poem about spiritual ducks!”

“Good for him,” Lin Xiao replied, chewing leisurely on a roasted chestnut. “Sounds like he finally found a hobby.”

The duck beside him quacked approvingly, its beak full of crumbs.

In the royal study hall, meanwhile, things were considerably less peaceful.

“Have you read this?” Fengyuan, the Crown Prince, slapped a stack of papers on the table, glaring at his brothers.

Lin Yan picked up a scroll and squinted. “The Fifth Prince’s Divine Duck Pact?”

“That’s not even the worst one,” Lin Rui muttered, flipping through another. “This one says he’s an enlightened monk who descended into royal flesh.”

Lin Qifan snorted. “And here I thought I was the dramatic one.”

Huixin, fanning herself at the side, grinned. “I don’t know. I think it’s refreshing. At least our little brother has upgraded from ‘comatose liability’ to ‘mystical duck prophet.’”

Mingyue sighed, adjusting her silk sleeve. “We were all supposed to impress the envoys. Instead, they think we’re hiding a reincarnated sage disguised as a lazy child.”

“They want to offer him a golden meditation seat!” Fengyuan snapped, throwing his hands up.

Everyone paused.

Then Huixin giggled. “Can you imagine Lin Xiao meditating for more than ten seconds?”

“I’d pay to see it,” Qifan said, chuckling.

Fengyuan scowled. “They want to assign him an official role. Something ‘spiritually aligned.’ Like an agricultural consultant.”

Yan blinked. “He barely knows how rice grows.”

Rui looked up. “He once asked me if wheat came from chickens.”

“…That tracks,” Qifan murmured.

Back in Lin Xiao’s courtyard, a new notification buzzed in his head.

[System Alert: Foreign Envoys request agricultural consultation from Host. Title proposed: ‘Blessed Prince of the Grain Path.’]

[Accept?]

Lin Xiao stared at the words blankly while petting his duck. “Is this about the cracker?”

[Possibly.]

“…Do I get paid?”

[In influence, glory, and the trust of the people.]

“…Boring. Decline.”

[Decline recorded. Title downgraded to ‘Silent Guardian of Seeds.’]

“Still too much responsibility,” he muttered, tossing a cracker to the duck.

An hour later, a nervous servant arrived at his gate.

“Your Highness,” the boy stammered, bowing low, “there’s a… minor issue in the eastern villages. A rice shipment has gone missing. The officials—uh, that is, the Emperor—wonders if you might advise.”

Lin Xiao narrowed his eyes. “Because of the duck?”

The servant hesitated. “…Yes, Your Highness.”

“I’m not a grain ghost,” Lin Xiao replied flatly, turning over on his side and pulling a silk blanket over his legs. “Tell them I’m busy.”

The duck quacked.

“Extremely busy,” Lin Xiao clarified.

The servant looked at the duck, then at Lin Xiao, then at the tea table holding nothing but cake crumbs and half a scroll titled “101 Ways to Nap Without Moving.”

“...Understood, Your Highness.”

But things did not stay peaceful.

That evening, the Empress herself sent a royal decree—not in anger, but in radiant praise.

“To the Fifth Prince, spiritual witness and miraculous bringer of serenity—we commend your noble silence and ask humbly that you bless the eastern region with your presence, to awaken the sleeping fields.”

Lin Xiao read the scroll three times.

Then threw himself face-down into his pillows. “Awaken the sleeping fields? I’m not a plow!”

Zhao peeked in nervously. “Your Highness, if you do not go, the nobles may think you are refusing a divine calling…”

“I am refusing a divine calling,” Lin Xiao grumbled, muffled by his mattress.

“Then they will think you are transcendent.”

“I’m just lazy!”

Zhao hesitated. “Which is also a form of enlightenment?”

Lin Xiao sat up. “Is this how religions start?”

Two days later, he found himself inside a luxurious carriage, surrounded by guards and silk cushions, en route to the eastern provinces. His duck sat beside him, enjoying its own personal water bowl.

“I feel betrayed,” Lin Xiao muttered, rubbing his temple. “How did I get roped into this?”

[System Notification: Side Quest Triggered – ‘Sleep Through a Crisis!’]

[Goal: Solve regional rice issue with minimal physical effort.]

“…That’s more like it.”

Meanwhile, in the eastern village of Gaoliang, elders gathered in a small town hall.

“I heard the Fifth Prince is coming,” one old man whispered.

“Isn’t he the one with the sacred duck?”

“They say he can talk to crops.”

“No, he talks to ducks. The crops just listen in.”

A small child ran in holding a fan with Lin Xiao’s sketch—mostly his big sleepy eyes and a cracker in his mouth.

“I want to see the Duck Prince!”

“Line up with the others,” his mother said proudly.

Outside, dozens of villagers prepared offerings of rice cakes, feathers, and—bizarrely—several painted eggs. They built a stage with a throne made of straw. In the center, they erected a giant wooden duck.

Lin Xiao, peeking out of his carriage window as they arrived, nearly choked on a candied chestnut.

“…Did they build me a shrine?”

Zhao, eyes wide, nodded. “They… think you are a grain spirit.”

“I literally asked for a nap and some buns,” Lin Xiao whispered.

The duck quacked.

Lin Xiao stared at it.

“You’re not helping.”

The carriage door creaked open. Lin Xiao stepped out slowly, one slipper at a time, blinking at the blinding sunlight. His face was half-covered with a wide fan, more to hide the yawn than any sense of mystery.

Cheers erupted the moment his foot hit the ground.

“LONG LIVE THE DUCK PRINCE!”

Lin Xiao froze mid-step, turning his head ever-so-slightly toward Eunuch Zhao. “They actually… call me that?”

Zhao gave an apologetic smile while holding up a tray with his royal shoes. “The title has... gained traction, Your Highness.”

Lin Xiao sighed, slipping his feet in and walking like someone reluctantly dragged from a very soft bed. “At this rate, the duck’s going to get a temple before I do.”

The duck quacked in smug agreement.

The village square had transformed into something straight out of a ridiculous dream. Children wore duck masks. Elders held banners with “Feathered Wisdom Brings Fortune.”

One man held up a roasted goose as an offering, which caused some confusion but plenty of applause. And right in the middle stood the throne of straw—throne was generous; it looked like someone had reassembled a haystack using ten glue sticks and too much faith.

“Is… is that for me?” Lin Xiao asked, staring at it like it might explode.

A village elder in flowing robes stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Most reverent Fifth Prince! Your presence graces our humble soil!”

Another elder clapped. “Please, ascend the Seat of Fertile Winds and awaken our fields!”

“…The what now?”

“The Seat of Fertile Winds!” repeated the man proudly, clearly unaware of how odd it sounded out loud.

Lin Xiao blinked. “That’s not a throne. That’s a sneeze waiting to happen.”

Still, the villagers looked so excited that Lin Xiao had no choice but to play along. He stepped up slowly, fanning himself with theatrical grandeur. The hay crackled under his weight.

He sat.

A hush fell.

The duck hopped up beside him and settled down like it was born for this role.

“Commence the Grain Awakening Ceremony!” cried someone in the crowd.

“Wait, the what—” Lin Xiao began.

But it was too late.

Drums started.

Children sang a rhyme about ducks bringing rain.

A boy threw confetti made of corn husks.

A line of farmers stepped forward, each holding rice plants.

“Your Highness,” the head farmer said reverently, “please bless our rice.”

Lin Xiao looked at the bundle. Then at the farmer. Then at his system screen.

[System Tip: Use ‘Barter’ function to exchange unused system items for rice fertilizer.]

[Item Suggested: “Cucumber Mist Face Spray – Moisturizes and Encourages Plant Growth”]

“…That’s for skin,” Lin Xiao muttered under his breath.

[Correction: It works on leaves.]

He sighed. “Fine. One spritz.”

Reaching into thin air, he pulled out a glowing green bottle. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Lin Xiao gave a single, disinterested spray over the rice plants.

The leaves shimmered with dew.

The crowd lost it.

“HE SUMMONED MIST FROM HEAVEN!”

“THE DUCK WINKED!”

“THE RICE IS BLUSHING!”

Before Lin Xiao could defend himself, an envoy from the local governor burst into the square.

“STOP THE CEREMONY!” the official shouted, eyes wide. “We must not make a mockery of—”

He paused mid-yell.

His gaze locked on Lin Xiao, seated like an immortal, sunlight catching on the mist, his duck munching serenely on seeds at his feet.

“…Oh,” the man whispered, kneeling immediately. “My deepest apologies, Blessed One.”

Lin Xiao raised a brow. “You're late. The rice has already achieved spiritual awakening.”

Zhao coughed discreetly, trying to hide his laughter.

The envoy groveled harder. “We shall distribute the news of your miracle immediately! Please, allow us to record your agricultural philosophy for future enlightenment!”

Lin Xiao blinked. “My what now?”

And thus began the most confusing interview of Lin Xiao’s life.

“What are your primary beliefs in crop cultivation, Your Highness?”

“Sunlight. Water. Hope. Don’t forget snacks.”

“What tools do you recommend?”

“Anything with a long handle and low emotional damage.”

“How should a farmer behave during planting season?”

“Like me. Calm. Full of snacks. Never running.”

The official nodded furiously, writing down every word like it was gold.

Zhao leaned over. “Your Highness, you’re going to become a textbook.”

Lin Xiao sighed. “I was aiming for a footnote. Just a small one. On page ninety-nine.”

When they finally left the village, they were followed by cheers, baskets of food, and three attempts by someone to adopt the duck as a spiritual totem.

Lin Xiao, slumped in his carriage, buried his face in a steamed bun. “That… was exhausting.”

Zhao beamed. “You brought peace, food, and inspiration to the people!”

“I told a farmer to believe in snacks.”

“And now they’ve declared next month ‘Serenity Harvest Festival’ in your name.”

“…What.”

“They even named a rice field after you—‘Prince Duck Field.’”

Lin Xiao stared at the carriage ceiling. “When I said I wanted to leave a legacy, this is not what I had in mind.”

The duck quacked in contentment, clearly pleased.

[System Notification: Side Quest Completed – “Sleep Through a Crisis!”]
[Reward: Lazy Prince Prestige +500. Unlock New Title: “The Still-Walking Miracle”]
[New Unlock: Basic Field Blueprint for Parallel World – Sent.]

Far away, in a drought-ridden corner of the alternate kingdom, the original Lin Xiao received a glowing scroll, opened it, and blinked.

“…Why is there a recipe for ‘Lazy Duck Rice Cakes’ on the back?”

He smiled softly, rubbing his slightly sunburned neck. “That guy… really doesn’t care about thrones. But somehow, he’s protecting mine.”

And in a way, across space and time, the two Lin Xiaos—one salted fish, one struggling monarch—stood back to back, each guarding the peace of their worlds in their own way.

SFP - Chapter 2

Lin Xiao had been awake for three days now.

He had eaten congee with five different toppings (all bland), taken six naps, declined three invitations to royal lessons (by pretending to cough blood), and spent a total of twenty-seven hours lying in the sunlight like a warm, pampered house cat.

In short: perfect record.

His goals remained unchanged:
Avoid work.
Avoid politics.
Avoid thinking too hard.
Secure honey cakes.
Live longer than a mayfly.

But just as he curled up under a silk blanket for his fifth nap of the morning, something dinged inside his head.

[Congratulations, Host! You are now the exclusive owner of the “Cross-World Agricultural and Lazy Life Support System”!]

Lin Xiao blinked. He sat up slowly, suspiciously. “…What in the steamed bun was that?”

[System: Hello, Host! I am your supportive, non-judgmental, high-efficiency farming and trading system. You may call me—whatever you like. I recommend: Your Majesty, Oh Great Provider, or Master Chef.]

Lin Xiao: “…How about ‘Butler?’”

[Accepted. System will now respond to the name Butler.]

“Butler,” Lin Xiao whispered. “Explain. Why are you in my brain? Am I hallucinating?”

[No, Host. Upon soul transmigration, you qualified for our Retirement Living Plan, unlocked via ‘Overworked Martyr Reincarnation Route.’ You now have access to: A virtual farmland (for fun, not labor). A one-way portal to another realm. Barter exchange with the Original Lin Xiao. Gourmet recipes from three timelines. Weather immunity for naps.]

“…Did you say portal?”

[Yes, Host. The other Lin Xiao—let’s call him ‘Prince Lin Xiao’—is in a drought-stricken parallel dynasty. He can receive your goods but cannot send anything back.]

Lin Xiao paused.

“…So you’re telling me,” he whispered, “that somewhere out there… another me is starving in a dusty backyard… while I eat buns and lie in sunlight?”

[Correct.]

“…And I can send him food, clothes, and tools. But I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything strenuous?”

[Correct again.]

“…And I can plant crops and raise chickens in a magical space, but only when I feel like it?”

[Ten points, Host.]

Lin Xiao slowly lay back down and smiled at the ceiling.

“Finally,” he said, “a job made for me.”

That afternoon, while everyone believed he was meditating on Confucian classics, Lin Xiao entered the System Space. He expected something cold, mechanical, full of glowing symbols and confusing numbers.

Instead, he got a warm patch of green farmland, birds chirping, and a hammock between two peach trees.

“…This is paradise,” he whispered.

A popup appeared.

[Beginner Gift Package Unlocked! You have received:
10kg premium rice seeds
5kg wheat seeds
3 laying hens (virtual, low maintenance)
2 ducks (noisy, optional)
1 starter hut with a bamboo mat and tea kettle]

Lin Xiao almost cried.

“Butler,” he whispered, “you understand me.”

[Of course, Host. I am programmed to serve Salted Fish Lifestyle Type B: Lying Noble (Subtype: Ancient Lazy Prince).]

He wandered through the field, waving at a chicken who was busy pecking at invisible worms.

“So, I just… farm here, and send the food over there?”

[Correct. Every time you grow, harvest, or barter something, the original Lin Xiao in Parallel World receives a matched quantity. He will also be able to cook it—assuming he doesn’t burn it.]

“What if I send… say, mooncakes?”

[Then mooncakes will appear in his basket.]

“What if I send… a silk blanket and duck-shaped pillow?”

[Then he will sleep like a pampered imperial cat.]

Lin Xiao rubbed his hands together. “Let the lazy revolution begin.”

Meanwhile, outside the dreamland of his farming system, the Yuan Imperial Palace was in chaos. In the absence of full court duties, Lin Xiao’s name had been mentioned in the gossip circles of every maid, eunuch, and concubine.

“…He no longer screams at night?”

“He asked for tofu pudding but didn’t throw it at anyone!”

“I heard he meditated for five hours and murmured ‘balance… peace… fish…’”

The Empress was both relieved and suspicious. The Emperor was deeply intrigued.

The Crown Prince, meanwhile, had taken to shadowing Lin Xiao’s courtyard like a nervous teacher watching a sleeping child.

And that afternoon, as Lin Xiao lay on his couch, fanning himself with a lotus leaf, he heard the unmistakable sound of his elder brother’s boots.

“Oh no,” Lin Xiao whispered. “Work is coming.”

The sound of heavy boots drew closer, loud and clear over the hum of cicadas outside the courtyard.

Lin Xiao didn’t panic—he rolled over.

With the elegance of a noodle being flipped in a bowl, he draped one arm over his eyes and let out a peaceful breath. “I am at peace with the world. The world should return the favor,” he murmured.

A maid scurried into the room, nearly slipping on the polished floor.

“Your Highness! His Royal Highness the Crown Prince—”

“I’m asleep,” Lin Xiao said.

“You’re talking, Your Highness…”

“Sleep-talking,” he corrected. “Part of my advanced spiritual healing.”

Before the maid could argue further, the doors opened with a regal creak.

Inside, Lin Fengyuan—the Crown Prince of the Yuan Dynasty, heir to the dragon throne, firstborn of the Empress, golden boy of the realm… and currently wearing a thundercloud for a face. “Fifth Brother,” Lin Fengyuan said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

Lin Xiao adjusted his arm slightly so only one eye peeked out. “…Oh. Eldest Brother. What an… unexpected sunshine.”

“Don’t call me sunshine,” the Crown Prince said flatly. “And why are you lying there like a retired farmer?”

“I am a retired farmer,” Lin Xiao sighed. “In here.” He patted his chest. “In soul.”

Fengyuan did not look amused. “You’ve skipped your lessons for three days, refused medicine from the palace physician, and told Eunuch Zhao you were allergic to loud voices. And now I find you here, dressed in robes that aren’t even belted—”

“I freed my belly,” Lin Xiao interrupted. “It breathes better this way.”

The Crown Prince stared at him. “Have you gone mad?”

“Brother,” Lin Xiao whispered. “What if I told you… I have finally achieved enlightenment?”

Fengyuan blinked. “You what?”

Lin Xiao sat up very slowly, hands arranged in a meditative mudra (that he invented on the spot). His tousled hair and dreamy expression would have sold the performance to a weaker mind.

“I fell into a pond, hovered between life and death, and in that liminal space between worlds…” He paused dramatically, “…I met an old man riding a turtle.”

Fengyuan blinked again.

“He told me three things,” Lin Xiao continued. “One: sleep more. Two: stress less. Three: stop eating anything that takes more than one pot to cook.”

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The Crown Prince exhaled heavily. “You were almost assassinated, Lin Xiao.”

“Oh yes,” Lin Xiao said brightly. “Very rude. Terrible hospitality. I don’t recommend drowning, by the way. It ruins your appetite.”

Fengyuan looked at him long and hard.

And then said the four most terrifying words Lin Xiao had ever heard.

“…I’ll call the physician.”

That night, when the palace quieted down and after the imperial physicians gave Lin Xiao a diagnosis “lethargic spiritual detachment,” Lin Xiao snuck back into his System space.

“Butler,” he hissed, “is the duck ready?”

[Duck is fed, bathed, and mildly resentful.]

In the small wooden pen inside the virtual space, two white ducks waddled in circles, making discontented honking noises. Lin Xiao pointed at the plumper one.

“That one. Send that one to Prince Lin Xiao.”

[Duck dispatched to Alternate Realm.]

“And send with it: one blanket, two rice dumplings, a jar of chili sauce, and a hand-written note that says: ‘Be strong. Eat well. We are not dead yet.’”

[Delivery sent.]

Lin Xiao sat on a small stool under the stars and sighed contentedly.

Somewhere in a drought-ridden, backwater realm, his other self was probably fighting off bandits with a spoon.

And here he was, enjoying the quiet.

But just as he picked up a virtual rice bun for a late-night snack, a soft voice echoed inside the space.

“…You.”

Lin Xiao dropped the bun.

“Butler?” he asked.

[That was not me.]

“…Original Lin Xiao?” he asked, heart thumping.

There was silence. Then—

“…You sent me a duck.”

Lin Xiao gasped. “You can hear me?!”

“…You sent me a duck. It bit me. And pooped on the only clean blanket.”

“Ungrateful!” Lin Xiao squawked. “That’s a high-quality duck! It’s got noble blood!”

There was a pause. Then, “…The chili sauce was good,” the voice mumbled.

Lin Xiao grinned. “You’re welcome. Keep the duck. It’ll grow on you. Name him Commander Quack.”

“…You’re strange.”

“So are you,” Lin Xiao replied cheerfully. “But together, we are strong.”

And just like that, the voice faded.

[System Notice: Temporary cross-dimensional communication achieved through emotional resonance. Duration limited.]

“…Emotional resonance, huh?” Lin Xiao muttered. “Guess he’s more annoyed than starving now. Progress.”

The next evening, Lin Xiao was summoned to a small family dinner with the Emperor and Empress.

He knew two things: He could not say no. and he had to lie like a professional to avoid homework.

Dressed in slightly wrinkled robes, he arrived just in time to sit between his two sisters—elegant, sharp-tongued Lin Mingyue and soft-spoken, dagger-wielding Lin Huixin.

The Emperor, Lin Taizhen, was already seated. He looked regal, wise, and completely exasperated.

“Fifth son,” he said slowly. “You seem… changed.”

“I have found purpose, Father,” Lin Xiao said serenely.

“…In… sleep?”

“Exactly.”

The Empress, elegant and cold—arched an eyebrow. “And what purpose do you hope to achieve lying in bed all day?”

“Longevity,” Lin Xiao answered without blinking. “My goal is to outlive everyone who tries to make me work.”

His sisters both coughed violently. The Emperor stared at him like one might examine a decorative vase with a crack.

“I will not fight for the throne,” Lin Xiao added quickly. “Nor will I marry, nor scheme, nor aspire to anything except tea, food, and an occasional walk in the moonlight.”

“Is this your final answer?” the Emperor asked, unimpressed.

“Absolutely,” Lin Xiao said proudly.

And thus, the Fifth Prince officially declared himself the Salted Fish of the Yuan Dynasty.

To the relief of his brothers, the confusion of the court, and the growing curiosity of a distant, the starving version of himself—who, at that very moment, was trying to wrangle a duck into a soup pot.

............

In the official records of the Yuan Dynasty, this day was remembered for three reasons:

1. The weather was unreasonably sunny.
2. The Fifth Prince declared that “ambition was a disease of the overworked.”
3. The Minister of Rites spilled hot tea on his own lap during court.

But let’s rewind just a little.

Lin Xiao had barely recovered from the “family dinner interrogation” when a small army of eunuchs arrived at his courtyard the next morning.

They brought him robes. Scrolls. Official documents. Even a ceremonial headband he was fairly certain was last used by a goat.

“Your Highness,” Eunuch Zhao wheezed as he laid out an inkstone, “His Majesty has graciously decided to assign you… morning lessons.”

Lin Xiao squinted at the man over the edge of his pillow. “I already have morning lessons.”

Zhao blinked. “You… do?”

“Sleep,” Lin Xiao said gravely. “I study the wisdom of dreams. Every morning. Without fail.”

“…These lessons are conducted in the Hall of Cultivation.”

Lin Xiao rolled onto his back. “Exactly. That’s what I call my bed.”

Meanwhile, in the Golden Throne Room…

The ministers were confused. Which wasn’t rare—some of them were confused on a good day when someone sneezed in the wrong direction.

But today’s confusion was special.

“Your Majesty,” the Minister of Personnel said delicately, “you’ve summoned the Fifth Prince to join the Imperial Court in three days’ time?”

“Yes,” the Emperor replied, eyes scanning a memorial scroll.

“…Forgive this minister, but… is that wise?”

The Emperor looked up. “Explain.”

“Well,” the minister said, adjusting his sleeves nervously, “the Fifth Prince… no longer attempts to bribe his teachers, has stopped forging sick notes, and has not run away to the marketplace in over a week.”

“This is… commendable?”

“That’s what we thought too,” the minister said miserably, “until we realized he wasn’t being obedient—he simply gave up.”

There was a pause.

“He told his tutor yesterday,” the minister continued, voice barely above a whisper, “that he considers education a ‘cultural suggestion, not a mandate.’”

Several officials gasped.

Another leaned forward in horror. “He said that to the Grand Tutor?”

“No, to a chicken in the courtyard,” the minister admitted. “But the Grand Tutor was within earshot.”

There was a long silence.

The Emperor slowly set his scroll aside.

“…And what, pray tell, has he been doing?”

“Sleeping, Your Majesty,” someone squeaked.

“Staring at clouds.”

“Refusing to wear shoes.”

“Yesterday he hosted a tea ceremony using melon rinds for cups—”

“I’m sorry,” the Emperor interrupted, “what?”

“Melon rinds, Your Majesty.”

The Empress, who had been listening from behind a lattice screen, finally spoke.

“Perhaps we should simply allow him to enjoy his leisure,” she said smoothly. “After all… a quiet prince is a non-threatening prince to the nation.”

The Emperor tapped his fingers on the table. “That is true.”

There was a collective sigh of relief—cut short by a booming voice from the main entrance.

“I heard my dear Fifth Brother is enlightened now!” said Crown Prince Lin Fengyuan, striding in with the energy of a man who had not slept since the last dynasty.

The Emperor groaned. “Fengyuan…”

“I’ve come to recommend him for the Agriculture Oversight Council,” Fengyuan said cheerfully.

“Why?”

“Because he claims to talk to ducks, and I want to see what happens.”

Back in the Fifth Prince’s courtyard, Lin Xiao sat beneath a blooming crabapple tree with a parasol over his head and a rice cracker in hand. He stared into space, content.

[Daily farming report available.]

“I haven’t planted anything,” Lin Xiao muttered.

[Exactly. You’ve failed your daily quota.]

“You’re a system,” Lin Xiao said, “not my landlord.”

[Correction: I am your farming and barter system. I have calculated 17 activities you could engage in to increase productivity.]

“I choose sleep,” Lin Xiao said.

[That is not on the list.]

“I choose to delete the list,” he said, biting his cracker.

A duck waddled up beside him—the same one he’d named Commander Quack before sending its twin to the alternate world. This one had somehow become a local fixture in the courtyard, waddling about like it owned the place.

Lin Xiao squinted at it.

“You and I are both freeloaders,” he said.

The duck quacked.

“Do you think they’ll let me fake my own disappearance?” Lin Xiao wondered aloud. “Say I went on a spiritual journey to the southern mountains.”

The duck flapped its wings.

“…Right, too much work,” he agreed.

[System Alert: You have 3 unopened parcels from Alternate World.]

“Oho?” Lin Xiao perked up.

[Parcel 1: A carved spoon. Parcel 2: A handmade map of foraging spots. Parcel 3: A note that reads: ‘Your duck bit another child. But the chili sauce sold well. Thanks, I guess.’]

Lin Xiao beamed. “My other self is thriving. And so is the chili.”

[Barter System unlocked new trade window: Realm-to-Realm Marketplace.]

Lin Xiao nearly choked on his cracker.

“…What’s that?”

[You can now send and receive handmade goods from the alternate realm. Only non-metal, non-weaponized items permitted.]

“I want duck eggs,” he declared immediately.

[Request sent.]

..........

That evening, in the private study of the Empress, a quiet meeting took place.

Present were: the Empress herself, her four sons (including the Crown Prince), and the two daughters of Noble Concubine Xiang—Lin Mingyue and Lin Huixin.

“It is no longer amusing,” the Empress said coldly. “The Fifth Prince is drawing attention.”

“To be fair,” Mingyue said lazily, “he’s doing it by doing nothing. That’s an art.”

“He made tea with pond water,” Huixin added. “Then told a servant it had healing qi.”

Fengyuan sighed. “He’s not dangerous. Just… excessively uninterested.”

“People are beginning to whisper,” the Empress snapped. “That his ‘sloth’ is a clever ruse.”

“Do you think it’s a ruse?” Mingyue asked.

They all turned to Fengyuan.

He considered.

“...The man used a duck as an envoy. I don’t know what to think.”

There was silence.

Then they all nodded in agreement.

By the end of the week, Lin Xiao had successfully:

Avoided five scroll-reading sessions.

Convincingly played dead to avoid archery practice.

Sent a care package of steamed buns and a drawing of a happy carrot to his alternate self.

Named all his ducks after ancient philosophers.

The Crown Prince, frustrated beyond reason, delivered a final threat.

“If you don’t attend tomorrow’s lesson,” he said, “I’ll have the musicians practice next to your courtyard.”

Lin Xiao yawned. “I like music.”

“At sunrise.”

Lin Xiao’s eyes snapped open.

“You’re evil,” he whispered.

The Crown Prince smiled. “I learned from the best.”

Lin Xiao considered this.

Then laid back down, stared at the sky, and whispered softly:

“…I should’ve transmigrated into a cat.”

SFP - Chapter 1

The world spun. No, not metaphorically. Literally. Lin Xiao could swear the ceiling above him just did a somersault.

“Urgghhh…” he groaned, the sound croaking from his throat like a dying toad.

His head throbbed. His body ached. And worst of all—he was cold. Not the modern ‘air conditioner set too low’ kind of cold, but a raw, damp, bone-chilling ancient kind of cold. As if someone had pulled him out of a well and left him to dry like laundry.

Actually, now that he thought about it…

Hadn't he just been playing a virtual farming simulator at 2 a.m. back in his apartment in Shenzhen? He had just reached max-level turnip farming. One minute he was yelling at his toaster-slash-oven-slash-smart-KitchenCompanion 9000 for burning his frozen dumplings, and the next—

Splash.

A pond?

A cold one.

Then blackness.

Now, he was here. Wherever “here” was.

He blinked groggily. The ceiling above him was wooden, the planks uneven and age-worn. A tattered canopy hung above the bed, and the mosquito net around him looked like it hadn’t been washed in centuries. And… was that a human-shaped shadow kneeling beside him, sobbing?

He turned his head ever so slowly.

A middle-aged man in a deep green robe was clutching a silk handkerchief and weeping like a dying opera performer.

“Your Highness…! The physician said you might never wake again! Thank the heavens!”

Lin Xiao tried to speak. What came out was, “Blrfgh…”

The man stood up and bolted toward the door. “Eunuch Ming! Eunuch Ming! The Fifth Prince is awake!”

Prince?

Lin Xiao blinked again.

Hold on. Hold. On.

“Did he just call me... prince?”

He tried to sit up. Pain shot through his spine like betrayal. Nope. Not happening.

Just then, a message popped into the corner of his vision.

[System Activation Complete]
Welcome to the Farming System
Bound to: Lin Xiao, age 35 (Host Identity: Fifth Prince of the Yuan Dynasty, Age: 13)
World Origin: 2035 Shenzhen, Modern, China
World Status: Ancient, Pre-industrial, Mild Technological Deviation
Note: Transmigration Complete. Parallel Consciousness Reassigned.

Lin Xiao stared at the glowing message.

Then blinked.

Then muttered the only appropriate reaction:

“…I’ve been isekai’d.”

And not just into any world. No. This wasn’t a peaceful peasant life with a tiny farm and a cute pet duck.

This was royalty. Feudal China-style. Assassination plots. Family rivalries. Power struggles. A system, yes—but with no sign of air conditioning or bubble tea anywhere in sight.

Still, part of him—the small part not still half-frozen and aching—sighed in relief.

He was alive. Somehow.

And better yet…

He was a prince. A real, honest-to-goodness, silk-robed, gold-bowl-using prince.

That had serious salted fish potential.

Maybe he could live out his days doing nothing but napping in bamboo chairs, sipping tea under plum trees, and avoiding responsibility like it was the plague.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“Not bad…”

“Move aside! Let me see him!”

A stream of people entered the room—some noble-looking, some middle-aged with scholarly brows, others suspiciously young but already stiff with authority. Lin Xiao had no idea who they were, but they clearly knew him.

A tall man with graying temples rushed to his side. His dragon-embroidered robe shimmered with imperial gold. His voice thundered like a lion who hadn’t slept all night.

“My son—! Xiao’er! Can you hear me?”

Son? This must be the Emperor.

Lin Xiao widened his eyes a bit, trying to look as frail and innocent as possible.

He remembered enough drama tropes to know that if you woke up too healthy, they might think you were faking.

“Fath…er…” he rasped, weak and dramatic. “It’s… cold…”

The Emperor barked at a nearby eunuch. “Where is the physician?! Why is the room not warmed?! Bring a brazier! No—bring five!”

Immediately, several servants scrambled. Someone brought an elaborate cloak and tried draping it over Lin Xiao’s shoulders. He sagged dramatically into the bed, like a tragic figure from an opera.

Inside, he was smiling smugly.

This was going great.

He didn't need to prove anything. He just had to look frail, mysterious, and slightly pitiful. That would buy him days—weeks—of rest.

Maybe even permanent sick leave.

The Empress entered then. Regal, tall, and sharp-eyed, she swept into the room with the grace of a blade.

Her gaze pierced him. “Xiao’er. Do you remember who you are?”

Lin Xiao blinked.

Test time.

He couldn’t possibly recite this body’s family tree yet. But he had a trick. The oldest trick in the lazy person’s book.

“…Mother… my head hurts.”

Bam. Full sympathy combo.

The Empress frowned, then sighed. She sat beside him and reached for his wrist, pretending to check his pulse like a doctor from a drama, but found nothing special.

“You had a terrible fever. The pond water nearly killed you. They say… someone pushed you.”

A flicker of cold ran through him. So the original Lin Xiao was murdered.

Wait—hold on again.

If he transmigrated here, where did the original go?

Before he could process it, the System chimed again.

Parallel Consciousness Transfer: Complete.
Original Soul redirected to Alternate World – Status: Active
Item Transfer Function: Unlocked
One-Way Portal Available
First package available in: 2 days

That was… oddly convenient.

So the original prince had been sent to another parallel world, just like him. But he, Lin Xiao of year 2035, now owned this body. He wasn’t just pretending.

And that meant only one thing:

This salted fish life was officially his now.

The moment the Empress stepped out with a final worried glance, the imperial physician stepped in like a man marching into his execution. White-bearded, hunchbacked, and wearing robes that smelled faintly of powdered herbs and regret, the man gave Lin Xiao a long look.

“Your Highness, forgive this old one. I must check your pulse.”

Lin Xiao nodded weakly and extended his hand, adding a small, pained wince for dramatic effect. “Doctor... will I live?”

He said it with just the right amount of melodrama, as if clinging to the last string of life. His acting teacher in middle school would’ve wept with pride.

The physician took his pulse with trembling fingers, squinted at him, then squinted harder—as if trying to see through Lin Xiao’s skin to his soul.

“You… your body seems… stronger than before. Hmm. It’s as if… something changed inside you.”

Lin Xiao’s mind screamed: Abort mission!!!. He suspects something. Fake weakness harder.

He coughed, dramatically. “Everything… feels unfamiliar. I dreamed… I was falling… through stars… Then… warm dumplings…”

“Eh?” the physician blinked.

Lin Xiao turned his gaze to the ceiling with hollow eyes, like a broken hero in a tragic legend. “Maybe I hit my head too hard. Maybe… I’m just tired of fighting.”

“...You weren’t fighting anything,” Eunuch Ming whispered nearby, confused.

Lin Xiao coughed again and whispered, “But I was fighting life, Eunuch Ming. Fighting so hard... to survive.”

Eunuch Ming promptly burst into tears.

The physician wrote something on his scroll, nodding solemnly. “The young prince has endured great trauma. Best not to strain his mind. Let him rest. We’ll monitor his qi flow and spleen energy.”

Lin Xiao almost choked.

Why the spleen?! Why always the spleen?!

Still, he lay back with a satisfied sigh. No more questions. No more suspicion.

He was officially sick enough to be pitied, dramatic enough to be admired, and mentally unstable enough to be left alone.

Perfect.

The next morning, he was still alive. That was already a win in ancient China.

Even better, someone had arranged for congee, steamed buns, and sliced pears to be served beside his bed. He took one bite of the congee and wept internally.

Where’s the chili oil? The preserved egg? The soy sauce?!

He nearly asked out loud but caught himself in time.

“...Tastes wonderful,” he murmured, tears in his eyes—not from emotion, but from the sheer blandness of royal food.

The door creaked open, and a soft voice called, “Xiao’er?”

Two girls entered, both around fifteen or sixteen, graceful in their movements and wearing pastel palace gowns. The older one had an elegant calmness, while the younger skipped like a spring squirrel.

These must be the older sisters, daughters of Noble Concubine Xiang—same mother as Lin Xiao. They likely are the only ones who wouldn’t want him assassinated for breakfast.

The older girl sat beside his bed and gently brushed his hair back. “I’m Lin Feiyan, your eldest sister. This is Lin Ruoqing. You scared us to death.”

Ruoqing, the younger one, immediately blurted, “You looked like a boiled dumpling! Pale and squishy!”

Lin Xiao stared at her. “…Thanks?”

Ruoqing grinned. “But you look less like a dumpling now. Maybe a steamed bun.”

Feiyan sighed. “Ignore her.”

Lin Xiao chuckled. It hurt a little, but felt good too. “I’m glad I have sisters who care for me.”

Feiyan gave him a gentle, knowing look. “Our mother… would’ve been devastated. She always said you had a weak body but a clever soul.”

That made him pause.

He barely remembered Noble Concubine Xiang from the fragments the System had passed on. She died when the original Lin Xiao was ten, of a slow illness. Quiet, beautiful, and mostly ignored by palace politics. Her children were raised far from the inner court, in a side courtyard near the plum gardens.

Feiyan patted his hand. “Rest well. We’ll send you honey cakes later.”

Ruoqing waved. “Don't fall into any more ponds! Or you’ll really turn into a boiled dumpling next time!”

Lin Xiao chuckled again as they left.

So far so good. Sisters are: funny, warm. No threat.

Then came the next wave.

A group of older boys entered the room. All four of them were obviously imperial princes. All four shared a resemblance to the Emperor. And all four had eyes like hawks.

The Crown Prince walked at the front. Lin Yijun. Seventeen, proper, tall, noble. He looked like a sculpture carved by a committee of Confucian scholars.

Behind him was Lin Yichen, the second prince—sharp-eyed and quiet, with the expression of a tax inspector.

Then Lin Yixuan, third prince, with sleepy eyes and a fan in hand. The only one who looked like he might be a fellow salted fish.

Last was Lin Yiran, the fourth prince. Serious. Muscular. Like a general who worked out between calligraphy sessions.

“Fifth Brother,” Lin Yijun said politely. “How are you feeling?”

Lin Xiao gave them his best helpless smile. “Like a steamed bun that someone stepped on.”

A pause.

Then, unexpectedly, Lin Yixuan chuckled. “Still has his mouth, I see.”

Lin Yichen narrowed his eyes. “Your fall… was suspicious. Do you remember anything?”

Lin Xiao looked down, voice trembling. “I… remember the cold… then darkness…”

They watched him.

He added, “...And someone saying ‘oops.’”

Lin Yiran choked.

Yijun furrowed his brow. “If you remember more, report it. No one touches our family and walks free.”

Lin Xiao nodded solemnly. “I just want to stay alive, Big Brother.”

The words carried more sincerity than they realized.

As they left, the Crown Prince paused at the door.

“You’ve changed,” Yijun said quietly.

Lin Xiao blinked. “For better or worse?”

Yijun offered a small, unreadable smile. “We’ll see.”

Great, Lin Xiao thought as the door shut behind them. The Crown Prince is onto me.

But then again… Wasn’t it better to look weak, confused, and harmless?

He had no plans to enter politics. No desire to be a war hero. No interest in courtiers or brides or noble titles.

All he needed was a sunny courtyard, a soft couch, a full belly, and a System that delivered preserved duck eggs.

He would become the best salted fish prince this dynasty had ever seen.

........................................

Main Character:
Lin Xiao – 13-year-old 5th Prince of the Yuan Dynasty. Lazy. Shameless. Transmigrated from modern 2035. Now a salted fish prince who wants nothing to do with politics, throne, or responsibility.

Royal Family & Key Characters

Father (The Emperor):
Emperor Lin Zhen – Calm, wise, sometimes confused by Lin Xiao’s strange words. Secretly quite fond of his “weird” son.

Mother (The Empress):
Empress Yuan Shuyin – Regal and intelligent. Dotes on her sons but keeps discipline. Notices Lin Xiao’s personality change early.

Birth Mother (Noble Concubine Xiang):
Noble Concubine Xiang Yuru – Elegant and quiet. Deceased in Lin Xiao’s parallel world. Alive in the main world.

Siblings (All dote on Lin Xiao in their own weird ways):
Crown Prince Lin Yijun – 18, responsible, competent, but confused why his brother wants to laze around all day. Birth Mother : The Empress.

2nd Prince Lin Yichen – 17, scholarly, suspects Lin Xiao has divine enlightenment. Birth Mother : The Empress.

3rd Prince Lin Yixuan – 15, martial, adores sparring. Tries to make Lin Xiao exercise. Always fails. Birth Mother : The Empress.

4th Prince Lin Yiran – 14, artist. Tries painting Lin Xiao napping in different poses. Birth Mother : The Empress.

Elder Sister Lin Feiyan – 17, sharp-tongued, competitive, suspicious that Lin Xiao is pretending to be lazy to trick everyone. Birth Mother: Noble Concubine Xiang

Second Sister Lin Ruoqing – 15, sweet but nosy. Always trying to feed him "tonics" he doesn't want. Birth Mother: Noble Concubine Xiang.