10 The Blanket Rabbits

Xiao Ying, staring up at the ceiling of his tiny room, decided that despite the fact that he had apparently tripped and stumbled over the plot progression flag, barely managing to grab it as he fell off a metaphorical cliff to his doom, that the night before was a resounding failure.

Distinctly not watching Ming Cheng having his armed examined by the Imperial Court Physician, he kept his eyes wide open, dedicating himself to ignoring everything that was happening around him.

He was almost even worried about the lack of sleep that he was experiencing, his body not at all fatigued and his eyes somehow resistant to drooping under the weight of the hours that he had spent conscious.

He wondered where this superpower had come from, knowing anyway that it was probably because he was dead and a spirit that was under no such compulsion to keep a body - that did not even exist right now - going.

Xiao Ying apparently didn't need food either, which was a good thing considering he had no access to it.

If he was at all in a human body, then this situation was entirely unsustainable. Watching hours upon hours of a person's life as they completed each and every mundane task was mind numbing.

He had watched Ming Cheng eventually fall asleep from boredom, the ghost of his eyeless dead mother looming over him was apparently not stimulating enough for him to stay awake for, and Xiao Ying had to painfully wait the entire duration of time that he had stayed asleep, almost on his knees praying in thanks when the sun rose upon the new, terrible day.

Lan Chang had woken up first and had left Ming Cheng to sleep in the room a little longer, apparently going out to cook breakfast, if the sounds which leaked in meant anything.

Ming Cheng had curled up into a little ball, bundling the blankets over his body as he turned over to lie on his stomach, resembling a large rabbit than a person.

He had woken up when Lan Chang had barged in a little later, carrying a wash basin and tray, with the declaration that," Today was going to be a good day!" leaving her mouth loudly and startling little Ming Cheng awake.

He jumped up, his small eyes darting around from side to side, shivering in a momentary terror that he could have learned nowhere else but the streets, before abruptly relaxing, the tension of his body evaporating all at once as his eyes settled on Lan Chang's kind and cheerful face.

Giving a small sigh of relief, he pulled himself out of the blankets with the grace that no child could ever possess, not even tangling his legs inside the folds of fabric, and immediately stood before Lan Chang, bowing out a greeting.

She returned the bow, a beaming grin on her face, something twinkling in her eyes.

She then passed him a bowl of plain congee and some chopsticks, nodding to Ming Cheng.

The child still hesitated though, his movements slow and shaky as he picked up his utensils and began eating his breakfast, proceeding slowly and almost making an art form from the smooth movements he made.

His back was stiff though, and if one was willing to listen closely, you could almost hear his joints creek at each motion they went through.

Xiao Ying swallowed once more at the consequences of his actions.

His mistakes had run far deeper than re-writing his janky dialogue in real time.

There was nothing he could do but try and help Ming Cheng live the best life he could.

In the original novel, Ming Cheng's decorum was supposed to be legendary, the child beating out the children of nobles with his manners and politeness - the skills developed out of the terror of simply not being good enough to be here.

The original Ming Cheng had always been constantly worried about not being good enough, filling his life with more and more research, training, and practice in an attempt to drown out the thoughts that maybe, his status as son of the Emperor had been fake.

That he really didn't deserve to be here, and this was all some elaborate joke.

The original Ming Cheng had worn a mask of ineffable kindness, his patience endless and his capacity to forgive others of their greatest wrongs just the skill needed to end the wars that had been plaguing the kingdom.

And while everything about Ming Cheng had seemed to be amazing on the outside, on the inside, there was just a lonely boy, filling all his time with work and desperate for friends.

The man had the admiration of all within his kingdom and beyond. He had the support of all his nobles and advisors. He was the pride of the palace servants.

But he had no real companionship.

The greatest irony being, in hindsight, that the original Ming Cheng died on the night of his wedding, on the brink of finally beginning a fulfilling relationship with a woman who could be described his equal, in terms of the number of people who loved her compared to him.

Xiao Ying, despite putting in all sorts of power fantasy bullshit in his original novel, may have just stumbled upon the real reason that his work did so badly.

He had underestimated his audience.

His audience, much smarter than him, had seen him as the child he was back then.

His protagonist had no real friends, went through life alone, struggling from hardship to hardship, gaining superficial love and recognition, but ultimately could not obtain the one thing he desperately wanted: somebody who would actually talk to him and see him as something more than an object to better themselves or pass some time with.

Xiao Ying, belatedly realised that his own cries for help, in his work, were recognised and shunned.

He needed to make this Ming Cheng a better man.

He needed to give this Ming Cheng a better life.

It was a gamble, altering the course of the story, and without pen and paper, he would need to mentally keep track of things by himself.

But to atone for his crimes, it would be at least worth it.

If not for Ming Cheng, it would be himself.