The Carefree Eldest Prince

He was a top student from a prestigious university. After pulling an all-nighter, he died suddenly, only to open his eyes as the number one wastrel in the Great Qian dynasty.

From the start, he was trapped in a deadly situation. His father, who commanded three hundred thousand troops, had just been killed by bandits. The emperor promptly stripped the family of its title and placed them under house arrest, while the capital’s nobles waited to trample him and take his place.

Everyone thought the useless young heir only knew how to waste money and visit brothels, and that even with death staring him in the face, he was still squandering his fortune on wine and women.

But nobody knew his father was still alive.

A secret letter hidden inside a jade pendant burned away the last trace of panic in his eyes.

His father had faked his death and was stockpiling troops and iron overseas. Here in the capital, where people would eat you alive, he had to put on a magnificent deception to fool the heavens on his father’s behalf.

If he wanted to survive, he had to play the wastrel to perfection.

Framed for cheating at the Imperial College?

He turned the blame around, forcing the mastermind to sacrifice an arm just to escape.

Publicly humiliated at the Double Ninth poetry gathering?

He recited “All over the city, golden armor blooms,” stunning the entire crowd.

The Eunuch of Nine Thousand Years wanted him dead and sent assassins to ambush him at night?

He modified a carriage, developed firearms, and burned down the other man’s private treasury of three million taels, taking back every bit of it with interest.

When the order to evacuate the coast drove the people to their deaths, he opened a sea route and snatched them away.

When stove taxes drove salt workers to revolt, he taught them military strategy from afar.

The palace eunuchs thought he was a puppet on a string, while the princes vying for the throne treated him as a stone to test the waters.

But by the time they realized how many officials across the court were secretly submitting memorials on his behalf, it was too late.

The border troops in the north drank his wine and cursed the emperor.

The salt merchants of the southeast used his routes to smuggle iron.

Even the fleet that had annihilated the entire imperial navy sailed under the banner of “Jing.”

The blade was sheathed. The net had closed.

At last, the useless young heir who had played dead in the mud on that snowy night bared his fangs, standing atop a field of bones.

His father would return to the capital within three years.