Sir, take me to rebel (6): 

The master of ceremonies had extraordinary luck, so it was naturally a great thing that he was willing to help.

“His name is Chu Feng.”

Si Qi stood up and wrote two characters on the desk with brush and paper.

The master of ceremonies carefully noted down the two characters, then asked, “May I ask this person’s age and background? That way I can help you search.”

“I don’t know his age, nor his background.”

After thinking for a while, Si Qi pulled out from a drawer many portraits he had idly drawn during this period.

He used sketching techniques, portraying Chu Feng so vividly it seemed he would leap from the paper.

The portraits covered ages from teenage years to forty or fifty. In each picture, Chu Feng wore a smile, looking handsome and imposing.

The master of ceremonies’ gaze landed on the drawings, his pupils slightly contracting.

He was Si Qi’s disciple, and had heard his teacher say many times that when painting one must capture the subject’s emotions, while also blending in one’s own feelings.

So, with one glance he could tell the artist’s deep affection and tender longing for the person depicted, so soft and almost tangible it poured from the paper.

Especially since the one in the portraits seemed to return that same feeling toward the artist…

The master of ceremonies’ fingers unconsciously tightened, his eyes fixed on the man in the drawing.

His teacher had secretly drawn so many portraits of this man. Who was he? And why?

“Teacher, is he your friend? He looks very close to you.” The master of ceremonies asked deliberately.

Si Qi chose a portrait of Chu Feng around twenty years old and handed it over, shaking his head. “No, he is family.”

The master of ceremonies recalled the few drawings showing a man at least forty or fifty, and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of expectation. “Is he your elder?”

Si Qi glanced at him, faintly catching something odd in his tone.

He explained seriously: “He is my beloved.”

The hand holding the drawing trembled slightly; the master of ceremonies quickly lowered his head to hide his emotions, softly murmuring, “Teacher, when did you…? I never knew.”

Si Qi’s brows furrowed, his voice becoming lighter. “We have been together for many years. It’s normal that you don’t know.”

The master of ceremonies was angry at himself for being born too late, his heart aching in waves. “Then… how did you become separated?”

Si Qi sighed helplessly. “He lost his memory. He doesn’t remember me, nor can he take the initiative to seek me out. Moreover, I don’t know his current identity or where he is.”

The master of ceremonies was stunned.

Lost memory, whereabouts unknown, missing for years…

These words echoed in his mind until he suddenly asked, “Then all those times you went out every so often, was it to search for Mister Chu?”

Si Qi paused slightly and carefully observed his expression.

The young boy, under his teacher’s gaze, had nowhere to hide, his cheeks reddening.

His childhood of abuse and the villagers’ fear and rejection—throwing stones at him—had left deep psychological scars.

He was wary of people, proud yet self-abasing, unable to accept closeness from others, yet he lacked love, yearned for warmth, and longed for salvation.

That was why, after being saved by Si Yu, he ran away that very night. And why, after achieving success and becoming emperor, he still remembered that kindness from years ago, relying on hazy memories to find Si Yu and repay him.

Si Qi was the only one who knew his true identity, who was willing to oppose the entire court for his sake, never minding his deformed, terrifying appearance, and always treating him with gentleness.

He had given him the respect every human deserved, and granted him power most people could only dream of, recognizing his quest for vengeance and standing behind him always.

It was hard for the master of ceremonies not to regard Si Qi as the most important person in his life, more important even than life itself.

Over time, that yearning slowly turned into possessiveness. He could not bear the thought of anyone being more important to his teacher than himself.

For a fleeting moment, Si Qi even suspected that the reason he could not find Chu Feng all this time might have been due to tricks by the world’s favored son.

But he quickly dismissed the thought.

He had known his disciple for years and knew his character. He was not the type to disregard his teacher’s feelings for selfish reasons.

He might be domineering, but he was never selfish.

If something Si Qi wanted pained him deeply, in the end he would still endure the pain and respect his teacher’s will.

So Si Qi rubbed the boy’s head and told him, “Yes, I have searched for him when traveling, but most of the time, I was looking for useful plants to save the people of Autumn Dynasty, fulfilling your wish.”

The boy’s tearful eyes gazed at him, his voice hoarse. “Then, Teacher, if I grow up and you still haven’t found him, may I…”

“No.” Si Qi smiled gently, but his words were cruel. “You must be obedient, understand?”

The boy lowered his head like a defeated little beast, unable to say another word for a long time.

Xiu Xiu peeked at the scene before him.

After so many years together, his soft heart had made him view the world’s favored son far more kindly than before.

Xiu Xiu liked everyone who treated his master well, so he did not dislike the master of ceremonies.

Seeing him like this, Xiu Xiu muttered half-seriously: [Another poor soul rejected by Master.]

Si Qi let out a helpless laugh: [What, do you pity him?]

[Of course not,] Xiu Xiu grumbled. [I just think, the world’s favored son isn’t actually that unpleasant.]

[Hmm,] Si Qi said no more.

[And have you noticed,] Xiu Xiu added, [perhaps because you love Lord Main God, the world’s favored son has subconsciously grown in the direction of what you like.]

Sometimes, if not for the face, Xiu Xiu nearly thought he was speaking with Lord Main God instead.

Hearing this reminder, Si Qi recalled carefully, surprised: [You’re right.]

At first he admired the world’s favored son for those qualities.

But why did he admire those qualities? Wasn’t it because he loved such traits in a person? And the one who most embodied them was Chu Feng.

In fact, whether he first fell in love with Chu Feng and then favored those qualities, or loved those qualities and thus loved Chu Feng, even Si Qi could not say.

Realizing this, Si Qi laughed and sighed: [No wonder I always go soft on this boy, giving him medicines, showing flaws in front of him… It was because he reminded me of Chu Feng.]

Thinking further, why was it that when the boy came to his bedside, he didn’t awaken fully? Why did he, half-asleep, mistake him for Chu Feng?

Wasn’t it precisely because of this?

Si Qi held his forehead with one hand: [Truly…]

It hadn’t even been that long since he last found Chu Feng, and already he had subconsciously found himself a “stand-in.”

It seemed he needed to keep his distance from this boy.

As a result of exposing his feelings, the boy was sent by Si Qi to follow the prefect’s men, delivering emergency grain to famine-stricken counties and instructing them in planting corn and sweet potatoes.

These counties had been the ones that helped Liang Province when it could not produce grain, and they had written letters praising Si Qi’s deeds.

They shared the prefect’s ideals, so when he decided to oppose the Great Autumn Dynasty, the first step was to rally allies and repay those past favors, helping them through worsening hardship.

Sending the master of ceremonies was necessary.

To start a rebellion, there had to be a leader.

For both public and private reasons, he was the perfect choice.

First, he was the disciple of Teacher Si, bringing forth many valuable things, with rightful authority. Second, he was the heaven-chosen son, naturally skilled in rebellion, adept at winning hearts and grasping crucial information. Third… he was a prince of the Autumn Dynasty, legitimate by birth. In rebellion, the resistance he faced would be less than others. Many officials, hearing of his royal lineage, would feel less conflicted and more justified in pledging allegiance.

And so, carrying a sense of grievance at being abandoned by his teacher, he unwillingly stepped into the spotlight.

He was indeed well-suited for these tasks.

In the original timeline, despite his terrifying appearance that made others fear and shun him, he managed to learn and achieve everything on his own, still winning people’s loyalty.

Now, with the many auras surrounding him, his impact was magnified a hundredfold.

By the time he next met Si Qi, sitting face-to-face to share tea, it was already early spring of the next year.

He had grown taller, his figure more mature, his aura transformed from modest restraint to effortless confidence. His rapid growth truly amazed Si Qi.

And, admittedly, made him a little uneasy.

For though his looks, body, and voice were unlike, his aura and speech were so similar that…

The moment he walked in, Si Qi nearly thought he saw Chu Feng.

Had he accidentally molded his disciple into the image of his beloved? Hopefully, Chu Feng would not be too upset when they finally reunited.

Upon seeing Si Qi, the master of ceremonies bowed respectfully, exchanged greetings, and inquired after him with perfect courtesy, showing no overstep.

Even Si Qi could not read his true intentions at first glance.

Such was the astonishing speed of his growth.

It was finally the master of ceremonies who first spoke of Chu Feng.

Not even half a word of complaint about being sent away—he merely smiled and said, “I searched everywhere for Mister Chu, but unfortunately found no trace.”

Si Qi replied, “Is that so.”

The master of ceremonies closely observed him. “Teacher, you don’t seem very anxious?”

Si Qi blew gently on his tea. “I am.”

But since he had Xiu Xiu following him, watching over him and reporting back, he already knew whether his disciple was truly searching for Chu Feng or not.

So, hearing him say it again now, stirred little feeling.

The master of ceremonies noticed that although Si Qi said he was anxious, he did not seem to care much in truth, and he felt relieved.

With the greatest worry in his heart eased, this time when he returned from his travels, he brought many things he thought new and interesting for Si Qi. They were not precious, but carried his thoughtfulness. Si Qi, after listening to his disciple’s explanations, looked through them one by one and indeed found many of them delightful, playing with them in his hands.

The master of ceremonies smiled brightly at his teacher; all the sorrow and hardship of the journey vanished in that moment.

Everything had been worth it.

The teacher and disciple chatted in a house warmed by underfloor heating, drinking tea and eating pastries, showing no trace of estrangement from their days apart.

The master of ceremonies slowly recounted his experiences of this period: “…We mixed wheat bran with fodder to feed the cattle and sheep. I passed on what Teacher had taught me, and they said next year they would hatch more chickens and ducks.”

“This winter has been colder than previous years. Fortunately, after receiving supplies, the people coped well, and few elderly or children froze to death.”

“The situation everywhere is worse than in past years. Many nearly could not survive. Luckily, we had Teacher…”

“Everyone is grateful to you.”

Si Qi shook his head. “It was you who went out and did all these things. Don’t shift all the credit onto me.”

Xiu Xiu had said it many times: whenever this child went out and accomplished something, he always spoke of “Teacher this, Teacher that,” so that in some places, people were more grateful to Si Qi, who never appeared, than to the one who had actually done the work.

Si Qi did not dislike being thanked, but in the future it would be the master of ceremonies who raised troops and became emperor, and it was he who needed prestige.

The master of ceremonies gazed tenderly at him. “But all that I have today is because of Teacher.”

Si Qi: “…”

No, even without him, this person could still have achieved great things. It would only have been far harder, and the people would have suffered more.

Seeing his disciple’s determined gaze, refusing to change his mind no matter how he repeated himself, Si Qi gave up trying to persuade him.

“This time I called you here because I noticed the water levels of rivers from the north are higher than usual,” Si Qi said. “When spring comes, the ice will melt, and with more rainfall, I fear heavy floods. Preparations must be made in advance.”

In this era of declining fortune, the slightest disturbance could cause disaster. Warmer temperatures meant drought, more rain meant flooding, and the faintest epidemic meant inevitable plague.

Si Qi could not use divination in this world. All he could do was observe and prevent early. If anything seemed wrong, he would send food, supplies, and techniques—saving lives first.

While studying the life trajectory of the world’s favored son, Si Qi noted several major events: one, the people of Liang Province were forced into desperation and rose in rebellion with him; two, in northern Jiang Province, torrential rains flooded every city along the river, drowning countless people.

When the waters receded a month later, corpses floated everywhere, rotting and breeding bacteria. With no clean water to drink, immunity collapsed, leading to plague. Infected people and bodies carrying disease flowed downstream, bypassing the capital, as refugees were driven away from prosperous provinces. Eventually, they entered other regions, spreading disaster…

Si Qi did not continue recalling. He only told his disciple: “Go ahead of me. Warn the officials there to prepare as soon as possible.”

The master of ceremonies recalled Jiang Province’s location. It was far from Liang Province; even riding hard, it would take more than half a month to reach.

He agreed immediately. “I will prepare people and supplies at once.”

Seeing this reaction, Si Qi felt gratified. “Good, go.”

Then, after some thought, he added: “I will follow shortly after.”

The master of ceremonies’ face lit with a genuine smile. “I will do my utmost to resolve the matter, so Teacher need not worry.”

…

When he finally arrived in Jiang Province after traveling night and day, heavy rains were indeed falling, and the surging river had already broken its banks, flooding the city.

Spring rains were normal for the locals, so at first no one paid them much mind.

Later, a passing sorcerer kindly warned them this place would soon become a land of death, and advised them to leave early.

But the people had lived here for generations. How could they leave just because of a stranger’s words? Except for the prefect, who felt some unease, no one took it to heart—or perhaps they dared not.

When rain poured for seven or eight days straight, falling harder and faster, farmers began to worry over their seedlings. People grew irritated with the endless downpour, praying only for it to stop.

But the rain continued like an unshakable nightmare. Clothes would not dry, houses filled with dampness, the roar of the river pounded like thunder in their ears. Waking one morning, they found their floors wet.

At last, people realized the danger and rushed to the banks, only to see the water several times higher than usual, waves tall enough to drown a person whole.

County magistrates urged people to drop everything. Some rode to the capital for help, others ordered stones piled along the riverbanks.

Yet in the face of natural disaster, the people were powerless, clinging to a sliver of false hope.

They watched as water rose from their feet to their ankles, then to their knees, still refusing to flee, begging heaven for mercy.

The sick, the elderly, and children collapsed first. The endless rain chilled the air, filling homes with dampness, while the sunless sky deepened their unease.

Magistrates urged them to leave, but none obeyed. If they left, where would they eat, where would they sleep, where would they live, who would give them land? Unless there was no choice, no one wanted to abandon home.

This was the situation when the master of ceremonies arrived.

The water nearly reached people’s thighs, yet they stubbornly endured. Were they brave, or simply too miserable to bear change?

He reined in his frightened horse before the yamen steps, presented the prefect of Liang Province’s letter of introduction, and was brought before Jiang Province’s prefect and officials.

Some had heard of Si Qi and his disciple, and strongly recommended the master of ceremonies. The prefect of Jiang Province, setting aside his youth, hurriedly thanked him for coming in such peril, and immediately asked what should be done.

The master of ceremonies did not stand on ceremony. He said seriously: “The most important thing first is to establish teams for flood control.”

“Please organize the following: First, a logistics team, to prepare food and medicine, ensuring they are not washed away or spoiled. Second, a rescue team, to save those who fall into the water or are trapped, and to treat the sick and wounded. Third, a communication team, appointing one person at every level—province, city, county, village, down to the streets—to record headcounts daily, deliver orders, and report disasters, so no place is suddenly flooded without anyone knowing. Fourth, a security team. In disaster, some will act recklessly, looting and robbing. To prevent such acts from escalating into riots, they must be stopped at once. Fifth, a warning and relief team, to notify all river counties in advance, and to prepare evacuation routes. If aid can be secured from other provinces, all the better…”

The youth stood among officials twice his age, his clear and steady voice calm and powerful, quickly soothing their panic.

They listened carefully, nodding as they realized his words were solid and practical.

“Please also give me a map of the area, marking the river’s course and the high and low terrain. We must plan escape routes as early as possible.”

Before anyone else could act, one official rushed himself to fetch a map.

Meanwhile, the rest began dividing responsibilities as he had outlined.

Restoring calm among the people was crucial. The prefect and magistrates promised to personally go out and persuade the people to evacuate, or some might truly prefer death at home to survival elsewhere.

Soon, the map was brought. Geography was tested in the imperial exams, and most of the officials here, lacking powerful family connections, had earned their posts through merit.

Though limited by the times, their minds were sharp. Studying the terrain and soil, and remembering that water flows downhill, they quickly identified flood-prone areas and safe routes.

After rounds of discussion, they reached a conclusion.

As everyone was about to depart to their duties, the master of ceremonies bowed. “Natural disasters are not to be feared. Human effort can overcome heaven. I must trouble you all.”

They drew deep breaths and bowed back, saying solemnly, “Young Master, you are too polite.”

Everyone dispersed. And in their hearts they all felt the same: this had gone so smoothly, so swiftly, and with such order.

No wonder he was said to be the disciple of that almost godlike Teacher Si. Truly, he was extraordinary.