Honorable mention – K. Hemant
Eastern Ming had had enough of this sordid affair that was the heavenly rites ceremony for his step sister. As the bastard son of the king, he had no responsibilities whatsoever and spent his days whiling away at the local whore house. Food and women, these were the only things that Eastern Ming cared about, and the only things that could get him out of bed on any given day.
The flowers pavilion that he was a regular customer of had just appointed a new courtesan, who (it was said) was so beautiful, that with just one look, anyone would fall head over heels and try to pull flowers out of their ass to woo the maiden. He had just been leaving, mind full of obscene thoughts, when he was hauled straight back and dumped in bath water. He was then dressed in new robes and made to light lavender incense. By the time Eastern Ming came to his senses, he was all dressed up, and smelling of lavender and scented bath water from all orifices in his body. Little did he know that he was also expected to pay respects to the heavens, insignificant as he was.
Eastern Ming was good at recognizing situations which he could do nothing about, and this was one of them. Thus he settled to reminiscing about the meal he had with some nobles’ sons in the afternoon. Glutton as he was, no plate could be escape from his hands, and abandoning all propriety, he was known to snatch anything he liked, regardless where it was. The rest of the young dukes only put up with him because he had access to the palace, and any news that came out of it. One dish in particular had put his appetite in such a frenzy. He was remembering the taste and making plans to order it again on his next visit to the restaurant, when it came time to bow to the heavens for their blessing.
Startled out of his reverie, he had almost completed his bow, when he felt a peculiar feeling in his stomach. Before he had the time to asses it as to what it was…
At first, the sound shocked everyone present, before they started looking for the source in fury. Especially in the case of the king, thunderbolts flitted across his face as he narrowed his eyes looking for the culprit.
As everyone’s eyes focused on a hapless Jiang Chen, Eastern Ming’s eyes widened. The fart kept going on and on. rising in volume, as it finally achieved a crescendo accompanied by the glares and rage of almost all present at the glorious occasion. All the lavender essence was blown away, filling the hall with a rancor stench reminiscent of burning eggs. The first to react was the priest in charge, as he let out such a slew of expletives that Eastern Ming even wondered what he was before becoming a priest.
This was followed by the kings fury and the order to hang Jiang Chen’s corpse, as the poor man was being beaten up by the guards. Eastern Ming was not one to overly care about anyone but himself, but this scene still made him feel pity. Just as he was about to comment on the plight of Jiang Chen, he froze, as if a lighting bolt had struck him where he was standing.
The delicious dish he had snatched, the cold glint in one of the patrons at the table, and the weird feeling he had in his stomach. He bolted like a rabbit that had seen a fox, and amid the mayhem, noone noticed a fat man running for all his life with his fat jingling about him.
Eastern Ming ran like he never had in his life, and finally reached a deserted hallway, before a humongous fart, even louder than the Jiang Chen’s, exploded in the silence. It was especially magnified by the walls, and if anyone had strived to listen, they would have heard a rumbling coming from the palace, almost as if there was an earthquake occuring. \
After the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the fart finally ended. From beginning to finish, Eastern Ming had such a look of relief and joy, that if anyone came upon him, they would have wondered if there was a woman under him, to cause such unbridled happiness to glow on his face.
Eastern Ming vowed to henceforth only eat his own food, and never snatch what was rightfully others, because he simply couldnt handle the consequences that came with it. His fat had for once helped him, as it had delayed the three laugh powder from taking effect, thus saving his skin and narrowly a plight which could have been worse than Jiang Chen’s, who afterall had a powerful father. A mere bastard such as him was not of any value to the king.
Eastern Ming spent the rest of his days in relative luxury, and of the day of heavenly rites, he never spoke to anyone about it. Later, when Jiang Chen had risen to exalted heights, he sought him out to share the incident, earning a laugh and a drink, reminicing about old times.