Chapter Eighteen: How Did I Become an Impostor?

"Ugh... Help, is there really no way to travel that doesn't make me sick?"

After two days of recuperation, Ming Tian and An Luo's injuries had finally stabilized, so they set out and arrived at Dou Lake Prefecture.

On horseback, Ming Tian's eyes rolled back, and his mouth frothed like a crab blowing bubbles, looking as if he were at death's door.

An Luo and Yin Chan, watching this miserable sight, couldn't help but feel sympathy.

An Luo's sympathy was for Ming Tian. After the battle, he and Ming Tian had put aside their past grievances and become friends who had faced death together, so he cared deeply for him.

"Brother Ming Tian, perhaps you should rest a while, I see that you—"

"No! I'm fine, I—ugh..." He vomited again before he could finish.

But Yin Chan's sympathy lay with the poor horse beneath Ming Tian, whose back was now coated in vomit.

I got motion sickness in my past life—heavens, did you really have to bring that trait with me when my soul crossed over? Ming Tian was thoroughly exasperated. In his previous life, he never went anywhere without motion sickness pills—buses, trams, planes, trains, all of them made him sick. The most ridiculous thing was the time a coworker gave him a lift on a bicycle, and Ming Tian discovered, to his horror, that even a bicycle made him nauseous.

Even if it kills me, I will never ride a horse again!

Regardless of what the poor, vomit-covered horse might have been thinking, at least carrying just one person meant it moved quickly. The six kilometers were covered in just an hour.

Outside the city gate, a naked child was playing, and when he saw the horse's back covered in Ming Tian's vomit, he stood there dumbfounded, even forgetting to wipe the long trail of snot dangling from his chin.

Upon entering Dou Lake Prefecture, Ming Tian's eyes narrowed into lifeless slits once again.

"Hmm, well, there are so many things to complain about here I don't even know where to begin. Let me think... Right, is this supposed to be a city?!"

The city wall was only three or four stories high; standing at the south gate, one could see straight through to the north wall.

A city? This was obviously a town—no, even a street would be bigger than this!

So the impression from afar that the city was large was just an illusion! Could this really be called a city? Where are the soldiers on the wall? Why isn’t there a single one? Are they off gambling somewhere? Why can’t you see anyone inside through the city gate? Where are all the people? Is this really ancient times? Are you sure we’re not on the set of some ghost story film?

"Stop right there!"

Just as they were about to enter, two city guards crossed their weapons in front of the trio.

The leader had a face full of bristling beard, though his skin was oddly pale, making him resemble a version of Zhang Fei with albinism, his eyes as round and fierce as copper bells, glaring suspiciously at the nearly skeletal Ming Tian.

The other was so dry and thin he looked like a male ghost from a Junji Ito manga, his mismatched eyes leering greedily at Yin Chan behind Ming Tian.

"Who are you?" the Zhang Fei lookalike barked, his voice severe, as though confronting a trio of thieves.

This was standard procedure, and Ming Tian wasn't particularly bothered. He clasped his hands and replied calmly, "I am Zhuge Bu Liang, courtesy name Ming Tian, betrothed to the Princess of Jiangmen, on my way to Jiankang to present myself at court. We merely pass through Dou Lake Prefecture and hope you, good sirs, will grant us passage."

Wait, what was that—"good sirs"? Why did I say that? Has An Luo's influence really turned me soft?

Ming Tian was momentarily conflicted, but all he wanted now was to get into the city, find an inn, and wash himself with a bar of soap.

He hadn't bathed in three days and could feel bugs crawling inside his clothes.

And he was starving—he needed food!

However, the two guards burst out laughing instead.

The ghostly thin guard, after laughing, suddenly changed his expression, leveling his spear right at Ming Tian's nose.

What the—?

With the spear so close, Ming Tian had to cross his eyes just to focus on the tip.

"Men, seize them!"

The Zhang Fei guard’s voice was as loud as a pig being slaughtered, and soon the sound of marching feet came from behind the gate. Over twenty soldiers quickly surrounded Ming Tian and his companions.

What on earth is going on?

Confronted by these armed soldiers, Ming Tian had no idea what had happened.

"Hmph," sneered the thin guard, stepping forward. "You three, dressed like mountain bandits, dare to impersonate the Princess’s fiancé? You should look in a mirror before coming here in such rags. Do you take us for fools? Men, drag them to the dungeon!"

At those words, Ming Tian paused, glancing at himself, then at Yin Chan and An Luo, realizing their clothes were indeed in a pitiful state.

After fighting the bandits and losing their luggage, Ming Tian was still wearing the tattered outfit he'd left home in, now so shredded it looked like a dog had chewed on it. Yin Chan was faring little better—her gauzy attire in rags.

An Luo—best not to mention him.

Ming Tian now suspected this guy was some kind of divine comic relief sent to him. He was shirtless, his only covering the strap holding his sword sheath on his back, and with his striking, almost philosophical features—

Brother, could you at least think about your appearance? It's only early spring, aren't you cold? Looking like this, anyone would think you're a bandit—or, if I didn’t know you, I’d believe you were a cannibal.

"Sir, you’re mistaken. I truly am the chosen fiancé of the Princess of Jiangmen. We were attacked by bandits on the road, so—"

"Stubborn to the end, eh?" Zhang Fei guard interrupted with a slap that sent Ming Tian sprawling, his face burning with pain.

Damn, that hurt. I think my jaw’s been knocked two inches out of place.

Ming Tian clutched his aching face, dazed.

"My own father never hit me! Damn you!" he spat out the classic line. Ming Tian wasn’t about to take that lying down, but before he could fight back, three soldiers pinned him to the ground.

Something's not right... This is strange. Why do these soldiers seem like they were waiting for me?

Ming Tian sensed something was off.

"Brother Ming Tian!" An Luo, who had recently sworn brotherhood with Ming Tian, tried to draw his sword, but with his injuries he was too slow. Four soldiers tackled him, leaving him helpless.

"Why does this kind of thing always happen to me?"

Yin Chan was being restrained by two soldiers, who took the opportunity to grope her under the pretense of a search, their hands brazenly roaming her chest.

Yin Chan rolled her eyes, wearing the look of someone who thought, "You won’t find anything," too lazy even to resist.

Because Yin Chan was so flat-chested, after a while the two soldiers looked at her in confusion and cursed, "Be honest—why are you disguised as a woman?"

Yin Chan was speechless.

"How dare you arrest me! If the Princess hears of this, what do you think will happen to you?" Realizing softness wouldn’t work, Ming Tian snapped furiously.

Zhang Fei and the gaunt soldier exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.

"Still talking tough, are you?"

Zhang Fei delivered a savage kick, making Ming Tian’s head spin.

That kick was heavy—will I get cervical spondylosis when I’m older because of this?

Zhang Fei crouched down and sneered, "You lot still won’t give up? Let me tell you, the real Zhuge Bu Liang is having tea at the Prefect’s residence right now. You talk about punishment—I should ask you: impersonating the Princess’s fiancé, what punishment do you deserve?"

Ming Tian was stunned by this revelation.

What’s going on? Zhuge Bu Liang is at the Prefect’s residence? When did I become the imposter?

Which damn bastard is impersonating me?!

With these thoughts, Ming Tian and his companions were dragged into the city—under guard.

…