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.
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