Dao Qing had obviously come prepared. His movements were extremely swift, and in the blink of an eye, he scooped up Rabbit Tuan and fled beyond the gates of Cloud Moon Temple.
Xuan Yang’s expression darkened slightly. He was about to give chase when several silver dragons descended from the sky, transforming into young Daoist attendants who blocked his path. “Eldest Senior Brother, the Palace Lord orders you to head to the Back Mountain Dao Field at once. Please don’t make things difficult for us.”
With that, they fixed their gazes on Xuan Yang. Their icy golden pupils reflected his gloomy brows and eyes as they repeated, “Senior Brother, please.”
Xuan Yang stood there for a moment before finally agreeing. “Fine, I’ll go see Master right away.”
Since Qixue was so determined to see Helan Ji, let him go. Perhaps only by witnessing Helan Ji’s death with his own eyes could Qixue completely sever his feelings for him.
Dao Qing rode on a cloud of mist, speeding along like lightning as he carried Rabbit Tuan all the way to the Imperial Palace. He saw no sign of Xuan Yang pursuing them.
“We’re here.”
He descended lightly from the sky and said to Rabbit Tuan, “Chang Le Palace.”
Before Rabbit Tuan could respond, sharp sounds of swords being drawn rang out from all around. A cold voice rebuked, “What manner of demon are you, daring to trespass into the Imperial Palace? Take him down!”
Rabbit Tuan recognized the voice of the Zhu Yan Guard commander. Ignoring any concerns about exposing his demon clan identity, he shifted back to human form and called out, “Lord Jin, no! It’s me—I’ve returned. He’s my friend, here specifically to escort me to see His Majesty!”
“Ah? It’s the Noble Consort!”
Jin Tongling let out a startled cry, sounding immensely agitated. Soon after, kneeling and kowtowing sounds echoed from all around. “This humble subject pays respects to the Noble Consort! Congratulations, Your Ladyship, on your auspicious return to the palace safe and sound!”
Qixue couldn’t see a thing before him. He clung tightly to Dao Qing’s arm, drawing a sliver of security from his strength. “Spare me your congratulations. Let me in to see His Majesty at once. I heard that His Majesty… His Majesty, he…”
A sudden silence fell over the surroundings, so profound that it made Qixue’s heart race with panic. After a few breaths, Jin Tongling spoke in a heavy tone.
“His Majesty has longed for Your Ladyship day and night, eagerly awaiting your return to his side. Now that you’ve come back, His Majesty will surely be overjoyed. When you see him later, Your Ladyship, please do not grieve excessively. Preserve your health above all…”
His brief words brought fresh mist to Qixue’s already tear-swollen eyes.
His frail, slender body swayed like a lotus leaf in the wind, on the verge of collapse. Overwhelmed by grief, he staggered toward the jade steps. “Your Majesty… A’Man…”
His odd gait finally drew notice—Jin Tongling and the others realized something was wrong with Qixue’s eyes. They cried out in alarm. “Your Ladyship, your eyes…”
Dao Qing’s brows furrowed tightly. He swept Qixue into a horizontal carry and strode up the jade steps. “What are you crying for? The sky isn’t falling—he hasn’t died yet. I’ll take you inside.”
Qixue sniffled and wrapped his arms around Dao Qing’s neck as he was carried into the palace hall.
Inhaling Dao Qing’s cool, crisp scent, his voice had turned hoarse. Tears streamed down his face, his heart filled with terror. “Dao Qing… Do you think His Majesty will really die?”
Dao Qing offered no comforting lies. “Unclear. We’ll see after checking.”
Chang Le Palace’s halls were laced with an illusory array personally set by State Preceptor Xie Shu. Ordinary people could wander lost until death without finding Helan Ji’s true chambers. But in his panic and distress, Qixue had completely forgotten this. He didn’t notice Dao Qing’s familiarity either—his steps were steady and unhesitating.
Moments later, Dao Qing reminded him, “We’re here.”
A thick medicinal aroma hit them, followed by incessant low coughs and Eunuch Xue’s anxious coaxing. “Your Majesty, please take just one more sip of medicine. If the Noble Consort returns and sees you like this, how heartbroken he’ll be…”
“Set it aside. I can’t eat any more.”
Another voice rose—hoarse and weak, rough as if sandpapered, utterly unrecognizable as Helan Ji’s cool spring-like tone. It made Qixue struggle to believe it was him.
But hearing that Helan Ji was still conscious and able to speak eased the knot in Qixue’s chest. He couldn’t help but cry even harder.
Choking and trembling, he called out, “Your Majesty… Your Majesty! It’s me—it’s Yuan Yuan. Yuan Yuan’s back…”
The room fell silent for a moment. Qixue heard Helan Ji chuckle lowly before he said to Eunuch Xue, “I’m hallucinating again. I thought I heard Yuan Yuan’s voice—he’s finally come to find me.”
“Come here, Yuan Yuan. Let me look at you one more time…”
Helan Ji’s tone was gentle and calm, utterly unhurried. He took Qixue’s call as a mirage, water from a mirror—one of countless hallucinations born from his lovesick illness.
Eunuch Xue, however, grew excited at once, raising his voice. “No, Your Majesty—it’s not a hallucination! I hear the Noble Consort too! Is that you, Your Ladyship? Have you truly returned?”
“It’s me… it’s me. I’ve returned safely…”
Qixue sobbed in response, patting Dao Qing’s chest. “Hurry, carry me inside!”
Dao Qing’s thin lips pressed into a line, his expression icy cold. Still, he carried Qixue right up to Helan Ji’s bedside.
The bed curtains were drawn open. Dao Qing glanced inside and immediately frowned—he hadn’t expected Helan Ji to be this gravely ill.
Helan Ji had always been frail from practicing filthy witchcraft, but never to this extent. In just over a month, he had wasted away to skin and bones, a skeleton wrapped in pallid flesh. A heavy aura of death clung to his withered features.
His pitch-black pupils were dull and unfocused. But upon realizing this wasn’t another delusion, a spark of light flickered through them—like fire igniting in endless night.
With Eunuch Xue’s support, Helan Ji struggled to prop himself up. In a low voice, he asked, “Yuan Yuan… is it really you?”
He could no longer tell illusion from reality. Too weak to use his Nightmare Art, and with the Nightmare Demon cleared from Qixue’s body, he had no way to sense Qixue’s emotions anymore.
His body ached everywhere, every inch of skin in excruciating pain, dulling his senses to numbness. He had no choice but to confirm repeatedly through words. “Yuan Yuan?”
“Your Majesty… it’s really me. I didn’t die. I’ve come back safe and sound.”
Dao Qing set Qixue down at the bedside. Qixue murmured softly, groping until he grasped Helan Ji’s hand.
Though blind, his sense of touch remained. After a moment, Qixue felt how icy cold Helan Ji’s hand was—like a block of ice, emaciated to little more than skin over bone.
Qixue’s breath hitched. In disbelief, he felt upward, growing more horrified with each inch.
When he reached the chest, he could even feel the ribs clearly. Helan Ji finally pressed his hand gently. “Don’t touch anymore, Yuan Yuan. I’m fine.”
Even this attempt to stop Qixue was so feeble, devoid of his former strength. Qixue froze for a moment, then his eyes reddened. He burst into loud wails. “Your Majesty, it’s all my fault… all my fault…”
He cried until he could scarcely breathe, his cheeks and front soaked with tears. He looked utterly pitiable, enough to break anyone’s heart.
Not just Helan Ji and Dao Qing—even Eunuch Xue ached for him, comforting repeatedly. “Aiyo, Your Ladyship, how could this be your fault? Blame that damned Cloud Moon Temple if you must—those stinking Daoists lost you. You’ve both suffered so much. Don’t blame yourself!”
Dao Qing watched Qixue’s tears in silence, about to raise a hand, but Helan Ji pulled Qixue into his arms first. Dao Qing stepped back several paces, averting his gaze to the flickering candle flames.
Qixue lay against Helan Ji’s chest, afraid of hurting him. He quickly shifted into Rabbit Tuan, nestling into Helan Ji’s neck and licking his face. His round black-bean eyes shed endless tears. “Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”
“I’m here, Yuan Yuan.”
Helan Ji tilted his head slightly, kissing Rabbit Tuan’s soft fur and tiny ears. “Don’t cry, Yuan Yuan. No need to worry about me. Seeing you back has already cured half my illness.”
“I still remember what you said—you want me to live a long life, to be with you forever. How could I dare disobey? How could I leave you and our child behind so soon? Rest easy. I won’t die.”
At the mention of the child, Rabbit Tuan’s heart jolted. He couldn’t stop his tears. He nibbled Helan Ji’s black hair, trying to stifle his sobs, but whimpers escaped now and then.
Not only had he nearly lost His Majesty, but he’d also lost their baby. It was all his fault—he’d failed His Majesty. He didn’t even know how to break the truth: that there had been no child at all. His Majesty would be devastated.
The more he thought, the sadder he grew. His fluffy body trembled nonstop until Helan Ji noticed. He carefully cupped Rabbit Tuan. “Yuan Yuan, what’s wrong? Why are you shaking like this?”
“I… I…”
Rabbit Tuan couldn’t bring himself to say it. He hugged Helan Ji’s finger, tears flowing. “I’m just… so sad. I missed you so much. Now that I’m back, I’ll cure you. You’ll get better. I won’t let you die.”
“I understand. I understand it all.”
Helan Ji stroked Rabbit Tuan, but even these words exhausted him. He suddenly coughed violently, spewing a mouthful of black blood and vomiting up the medicine he’d just taken.
“Your Majesty!”
Rabbit Tuan smelled the thick metallic tang and knew things had worsened. Blind as he was, he couldn’t help. He could only scamper anxiously on the bed while Eunuch Xue and the inner servants cleaned up.
Suddenly, a pair of hands lifted Rabbit Tuan, carrying him away from the chaos.
Dao Qing petted the milk-dumpling-like Rabbit Tuan. He was sopping wet now—with milk and tears. This little thing seemed made of water: endless milk, even more tears.
“Stop crying,” Dao Qing told him. “Helan Ji won’t die. No need to mourn him yet.”
“You’re the one mourning! You’re the one!”
Rabbit Tuan bristled at any word tied to death, struggling fiercely in Dao Qing’s hand. But he quickly caught the meaning, his ears perking up then drooping in excitement. “Really? You’re not lying? His Majesty really won’t die?”
“Go find Xie Shu. He has a way.”
Dao Qing said, “If you don’t know how to reach Xie Shu, I can introduce you. But I have one condition.”
“What condition?”
Rabbit Tuan clutched at this lifeline, halting his sobs in thrilled surprise as he hugged Dao Qing’s finger. “Brother Dao Qing, I knew you were a good person! Name it—any condition, I’ll agree!”
“Even if it means divorcing Helan Ji?” Dao Qing asked.
Rabbit Tuan hesitated. “I…”
Dao Qing glanced coldly at his hesitation. “Relax, not that one.”
“What I want is simple: After meeting Xie Shu, no matter what you see, don’t get angry at him. Don’t hate him. Can you do that?”
