Sir, take me to rebel (1): 

“Good child Yu’er, don’t take that little matter to heart. You know you are the one we love most.”

“Your body is weak. How can you treat yourself so carelessly? Wouldn’t that break our hearts?”

“Mother has made your favorite cakes. Go back to your room, sit down, rest well, and stop letting your mind wander.”

The gentle, doting voices followed one after another. Si Qi stood at the corner of the courtyard, watching the warm scene of the family in front of him, harmonious and happy.

As if plunged into an ice cave, his hands and feet turned cold and numb, his heart seized in pain—unspeakably agonizing.

Of course, this pain did not come from Si Qi himself, but from the body’s original owner.

Having roughly guessed the truth, Si Qi closed his eyes and accepted the memories that Xiu Xiu had given him.

That youth, carefully protected in the center of everyone’s attention, his tear-streaked face pitiful to behold, was the legitimate son of the General’s household in name—the General and his wife’s youngest son.

Usually, he appeared rosy-lipped, white-toothed, well-behaved, and endearing, yet he had always been frail and sickly, unable to withstand even a gust of wind or a bit of rain. Despite being given countless precious medicines, his condition showed no improvement over the years.

The General’s wife shed tears day and night for this, while the General spared no expense, inviting famous physicians from all over to diagnose and treat him.

Several physicians came, yet none could give a definite conclusion. They eventually suggested the General consult a mystic, to see if the problem lay in the child’s fate.

The General then requested the Emperor send a court mystic. After carefully examining the child, the mystic declared: this child is not of the General’s bloodline. He even revealed that when the General’s wife gave birth years ago, a servant with evil intent had maliciously switched the baby, and their true son was now wandering outside.

The words shocked everyone present. But before they could recover from the blow, the mystic added: “Yet this child’s fortune is extraordinary, blessed with endless opportunities, and he naturally draws the affection of those around him. His uniqueness will one day bring boundless glory to your household. You might as well treat him well.”

Everyone’s hearts loosened, and smiles of pride spread across their faces.

By reason, the family should have asked where their real bloodline child was at that moment. But instead, the General’s wife cared only for the boy in her arms, anxiously asking: “Then why is my son’s body so weak?”

The mystic paused, glanced at the wife.

Recalling what he had just divined—that this child’s fate was special, and anyone near him would instinctively protect and support him—the mystic adjusted his words and patiently explained: “This child was born lowly, yet has taken the place of the General’s true heir. He suffers the backlash of the General’s household’s fortune, and thus his body is frail.”

The people grew anxious. “What should we do, then?”

The mystic spoke bluntly: “Announce his true identity, separate him from the General’s household, and the problem will be resolved.”

The General’s wife’s face immediately changed. “How could we do that! How will others view my son then? Won’t they mock him for having such filthy, low-born parents?”

The General gently patted her back, soothing her, then asked the mystic: “Aside from that, is there another way?”

The mystic, unwilling to offend the child blessed with such fortune, decided to go along with their will and offer a “favor.” “Since you clearly do not care about your real son who is out there, why not exchange the fates of the two children, and make this boy truly yours?”

At that, everyone suddenly realized—they had never even thought of the other child, nor cared about how he had been living outside.

The General’s wife urgently asked: “How do we exchange them?”

“Replace this child’s blood, bones, and heart with those of your true son. Then, he will become your real child, flowing with your blood.” The mystic spoke cruel words with calm indifference, clearly long accustomed to such matters. “After that, this child will truly be yours.”

Everyone present understood the meaning hidden in those words, and fell into silence.

Finally, the General gritted his teeth and decided: “Where is that child now?”

The mystic looked southeast. “Travel three thousand li from here—you will find him in Luoxia Town.”

Seven days later, the General found a thin, small child begging on the streets, and brought him back to the household.

The General’s wife cast a sideways glance at the child. Seeing his emaciated figure, hair like dry straw, trembling timidly in the bright, splendid courtyard, she couldn’t help but recall her other precious son’s charming, lively, and adorable appearance.

Indeed, this unrefined little wretch was nothing fit to be seen.

Holding back her temper, she glanced again. Whether illusion or not, she seemed to smell a filthy stench of beggar on him. Covering her mouth and nose with a handkerchief in disgust, she ordered: “Take him away, wash him several times, and put him in clean clothes.”

The other members of the General’s bloodline, standing by her side, looked at the boy shrinking timidly before them, forcing a weak, ingratiating smile as though he would beg for coins at any moment. They could not help but frown tightly.

Comparing him with the pampered young master raised within the household since birth, they felt the two were worlds apart.

—How could this wretch possibly look like someone from the dignified General’s household? The thought alone was shameful.

And yet, despite their distaste, they had no choice but to feed and clothe him well, instructing servants to serve him carefully, not daring to let any harm befall him. They even ordered special meals and a room prepared for him.

The original child, having grown up begging on the streets, accustomed to cold glares and curses, was overwhelmed by being brought into such a wealthy residence, served by finely dressed servants, and given good food and drink every day. His heart overflowed with gratitude toward the General’s family.

When nobles came to see him, he instinctively smiled to please them.

But instead of winning favor, that humble smile only made them despise him more, scolding him for being unpresentable.

Fearful, unsure what wrong he had committed, he shrank back and apologized repeatedly.

This timid reaction only emboldened the household, who abandoned any thought of telling him his true identity, fearing he might one day use it against them or try to escape to preserve his life.

In secret, they decided never to reveal the truth to him, treating him simply as a beggar they had brought in. After all, they would eventually strip everything from him for the sake of the other child. Once he no longer had the General’s blood, he would no longer have life. Why bother caring too much?

The original boy, unaware of the truth, carefully obeyed the adults’ commands: stay inside the courtyard, never run about, never offend the nobles, or he would have no food. He remembered their warnings and dared not step out of line.

A month later, when he looked a bit healthier, the General, following the mystic’s instructions, ordered his wrist cut open weekly. A bowl of fresh blood was taken, refined into special medicine, and fed to the other child.

This continued for years.

Living in the General’s mansion, the boy slowly adapted to this life of ease, food and clothing provided. Surrounded by watchful servants who brainwashed him daily, saying how enviable his life was—doing nothing, being waited on like a young master, and how kindhearted the General’s family was. They told him he must repay them for enjoying so many benefits.

Hearing such words repeatedly, comparing his past life of begging and beatings with his present comfort, he truly came to believe his life now was wonderful. He never wanted to leave—he loved everything here.

From others’ words, he gradually learned the truth of his situation: the General’s family adored their youngest son, and he was merely that boy’s “medicine man.” Only his blood could keep the boy healthy, which was why he had the fortune to remain here.

To him, giving some blood in exchange for such a good life was infinitely better than starving and being beaten on the streets. In fact, if he stayed without doing anything, he felt uneasy, afraid they would cast him out. As long as his blood was useful, he could remain with peace of mind.

Thus, he was deeply grateful to the General’s family—and to the young master.

Had things continued this way, perhaps he could have lived happily each day.

But one time, during a clan ritual, only true descendants were allowed into the ancestral hall.

Because the fake young master was rejected by the household’s fortune and could not enter without provoking their ancestors’ wrath, the General had no choice but to bring in the original boy to take his place.

The bewildered child was led into the hall, ordered through the entire set of rituals. He had no idea what he was doing, nor where he was. He simply obeyed everything the nobles instructed, not daring to disobey.

When he came out, he was suddenly confronted by the shocked young master, who cried and questioned him. The boy was completely confused, unable to understand what the young master was saying, or why he reacted so strongly.

The adults all showed alarm, rushing to comfort the little master, whose eyes brimmed with tears.

The matter caused a huge uproar. That very night, the young master cried himself sick, collapsing with illness, driving the household into panic.

The original boy was inexplicably implicated, locked away in his room, then harshly slapped several times by the furious General’s wife. She twisted his ear, forcing him to face her, demanding if he had deliberately let the young master see him.

Terrified and lost, he begged for forgiveness, trembling, carefully asking if the young master was alright. He even offered his blood willingly, saying no matter how much was needed, he would give it. In desperation, he reached for scissors, cutting his arm until blood poured down, pleading not to be cast out.

The General’s wife ignored the blood dripping onto the floor, jabbing his forehead with her finger, scolding him with vicious words. In her rage, she accidentally let something slip, which he remembered.

“You think you can steal my son’s place and take everything from him? Dream on!”

Growing up on the streets without parents, surviving on his own wits, he was quick-minded. Though he didn’t understand the phrase “steal the magpie’s nest,” he memorized its sound carefully and later pried its meaning from servants. He also learned what entering the ancestral hall meant—that only true descendants had the right. His heart pounded furiously, and at last, he realized something.

But realization meant nothing. The General’s family would not acknowledge him. Even if, based on his placement in the hall, he vaguely guessed the General was his real father, he dared not say it aloud.

He only felt wronged whenever he recalled how the young master was cherished.

Worse still, the young master refused to let go of the incident. Having overheard hints from his elders, he grew more sorrowful, often weeping, bedridden day after day, leaving everyone distressed. The whole household was thrown into turmoil.

One day, the young master even burst into his courtyard, grasped his hand, and said: “You are my brother, aren’t you? Otherwise why would Father and Mother treat you so well?”

The adults rushed in, faces darkening at the words. They shoved aside the stunned boy, embracing the little master. “He is not your brother. How could you think such a thing?”

Tears streamed down the young master’s face. “But Father and Mother let him enter the ancestral hall, and not me…”

“We were only worried for your health…” The adults shot the boy warning glares, fierce enough to confirm his suspicions—he was this family’s child, and they all knew it.

They knew, yet still treated him this way…

Watching everyone crowd around the young master, his body grew cold.

His mind spun in chaos. Why had he been abandoned outside? Why, after being brought back, was he only made to bleed for another child? Was that their true purpose in finding him?

Seeing how no one cared for him, their hearts fixed only on the young master, grief and frustration welled up in him until he blurted: “If that’s the case, then I’ll leave!”

The little young master’s crying softened. He looked timidly at the original boy, as if waiting for him to keep his word.

But to the little young master’s surprise, the surrounding adults grew especially anxious. Instead of driving the boy away, they shouted angrily and pulled at him, forbidding him to leave.

The little young master froze for a moment, then his shoulders trembled as he cried even harder. “I understand now, I understand. So that’s what Father and Mother meant… Brother, don’t go. Let me go instead. I’m always sick, I can’t do anything for Father and Mother. It would be better if I left.”

Hearing his sobs, everyone’s attention shifted from the original boy back to him. They hurried to comfort him while carelessly speaking words that stabbed the other boy’s heart: “How can you say such a thing? How could he ever compare to you? You are a pearl, he is but a pebble. He’s not even worth a single strand of your hair.”

The little young master shook his head repeatedly, murmuring softly, “No, that’s not true, it isn’t,” his pitiful and wronged appearance stirring boundless pity.

The General caught sight of the original boy standing nearby, read the discontent and hatred in his eyes, and slapped him across the face. The blow knocked him to the ground, his head spinning so much that he could not even crawl up.

The little young master seemed frightened, crying: “Father, why did you hit brother? Did Yu’er do something wrong?”

Even as he spoke, he clung tightly to his mother’s sleeve, his body trembling.

“Yu’er, be good, don’t be afraid,” the General’s wife comforted him gently, holding him in her arms. “He is not your brother.”

The General’s elder son even shouted, “That beast deserved the beating!”

Not wanting the little one to be upset further, they carefully escorted him away, not sparing a single glance for the boy who had been struck down on the cold ground.

The boy slowly pushed himself up, clutching his swollen cheek. He felt his teeth loosen, then spat out a mouthful of blood.

Perhaps his words about leaving had scared the adults. From that day on, he was locked in his room, never allowed out. The weekly bloodletting continued, along with endless rich food and tonics, making him grow more and more suspicious.

Later, they grew dissatisfied with mere bloodletting and began cutting flesh and replacing bones. He was pinned to the bed, screaming as they butchered him like an animal. Afterwards, looking at his mangled leg wrapped in cloth, he finally realized this place was not a paradise at all—it was hell.

He thought of escaping, but how could a child break free from the tight guard of such a vast household?

After many failed attempts, his mind turned to the seemingly innocent little young master. He tried to approach him, hoping he would help him escape.

Yet that rosy-lipped child with an angelic face only gave him a meaningful look and said with a puzzled expression: “Why would you want to leave? Haven’t Father and Mother treated you well enough? Look how nice my home is—so spacious, with so many good treats. How could you not like it?”

Then he carelessly let slip the matter.

The furious General’s wife summoned servants afterward, beating him savagely with bamboo rods until he was covered in wounds. She chained one of his legs, threatening that if he dared harbor such thoughts again, next time it would not just be chains—it would be cut off entirely…

The things that followed grew more and more outrageous. Si Qi no longer wanted to look. He only knew that in the end, every bone in the boy’s body had been replaced, his heart forcibly removed, and the false young master’s fate had been completely transferred. The boy lost his blood, his flesh, his identity, even his life.

Now, Si Qi stood in the courtyard, watching the weeping child surrounded by adults. Filled with resentment, he said he should leave, so as not to disturb their family reunion.

The crying child looked up at Si Qi with innocent eyes, as if waiting for his response.

The General noticed Si Qi’s expression and struck out with a slap.

Naturally, Si Qi would not let him land the blow. He tilted his body slightly and dodged with ease.

The General, missing his target, flew into a rage and raised his hand again.

Si Qi swiftly grabbed the scissors once used by the original boy to prove his loyalty, pressed the sharp tip against his own neck, and drawled lazily: “Since you hate me so much, why don’t I just end it here and spare you the trouble?”

The child’s sobbing halted. His tear-filled eyes stared at Si Qi, but he said nothing.

The adults, however, cried out in shock and anger: “Stop it at once!!”

“Don’t you dare!!”

A flicker of astonishment crossed the little young master’s face, then he cried even harder.

Si Qi pressed the scissors closer to his neck, smirking at the General, who wanted to act but dared not move. “What’s wrong? Don’t you hate me? Don’t you think I’m filthy and detestable? Then why won’t you let me die? Haven’t you always wanted me dead?”

At his words—”Haven’t you always wanted me dead”—a flicker of guilt flashed across their faces.

Yet outwardly, they showed no sign of it. Instead, they sneered with disdain and ordered the servants to take the scissors from him.

The servants looked at each other, but none dared approach the blade pressed to Si Qi’s throat.

Si Qi said with interest: “Seems you don’t dare let me die. Why? Because you have a reason to keep me alive?”

They stayed silent. Si Qi didn’t need their answer. Smiling faintly, he said: “I suppose the little young master must be very curious right now. Do you plan to ask your parents afterward? They won’t tell you the truth. Better I say it—because they need me to keep you alive.”

The boy, clever as he was, recalled bits of overheard talk. His gaze flickered as he lowered his head into his mother’s embrace, whispering: “Brother, what are you saying? I don’t understand.”

The adults sensed disaster, shouting at Si Qi to stop, wishing they could rip his tongue out.

But Si Qi looked indifferent. “Why shouldn’t I say it? You’re already set on taking my life. I can’t just sit and wait to die, can I?”

Their hearts jolted—none expected him to be so sharp.

Si Qi continued: “In truth, I am the real young master of this household. You are the cuckoo in the magpie’s nest.”

He deliberately used the phrase once spoken by the General’s wife.

The boy froze, his expression sorrowful, as tears slipped down his face. Hiding in his mother’s arms, he whispered: “Mother… is it true?”

The General’s wife nearly went mad, shrieking: “You little beast, shut your mouth!!”

“If I’m a little beast, then what does that make you? The old beast who birthed me? Ha.”

Si Qi saw the servants around them, their faces showing shock or dawning realization. Trembling, they seemed ready to cover their ears and vanish. He sneered: “You lost your own child and instead of finding him and making it up to him, you raised your enemy’s son as if he were a treasure. And seeing your child weakly, you even went so far as to kill your own flesh and blood to nourish your enemy’s son! What noble self-sacrifice—truly eye-opening!”

“Stop spouting nonsense!”

“How do you know this? Who told you!!”

Two very different outbursts came from the household’s leaders. At this, the little young master’s heart raced wildly, no longer able to dismiss Si Qi’s words as nonsense.

“You’re just jealous,” the elder son snapped coldly, “thinking Yu’er stole your place, and now you want to force us to admit you. Stop dreaming. What belongs to the General’s household is given to you only if we allow it. If we don’t, you have no right to touch it! For me, I have only Yu’er as my brother. You are nothing!”

“My heart unbalanced? You really think too highly of your household.” Si Qi sneered. “I’ve long known my origins, known who my father is. But did I ever try to reveal myself to you? These past years, did I once announce my identity? Did I ask to enter the ancestral hall? No—it was you who put me there. It was your precious child who came to me. And did you not hear me say I wanted to leave? Who was it that stopped me? Certainly not myself.”

“If you despise us so much, you shouldn’t have begged to live here in the first place, shamelessly enjoying what we provide!” The General’s wife, eyes red, shouted. “Truly an ungrateful wolf!”

Si Qi laughed aloud and shot back: “Was it I who begged to live here? Wasn’t it you who dragged me from afar? And did I enjoy all this for nothing? Did you not take my blood, not slice my flesh? Or do you claim your son’s life-saving medicine is worth less than the food I eat? It was you who begged me to stay, too afraid to let me go. And now you twist it as if I were the one begging to remain?!”