Chapter 10

Night had fallen, and a screen divided the room between the two men.

Liu Yuanxun, lost in a deep sleep, seemed trapped in a nightmare. He murmured softly under his breath.

Gu Lianzhao had nearly drifted off himself, only to be roused by those faint mutterings. After a moment’s hesitation, he threw back the covers and slipped from the soft couch. His footsteps barely made a sound as he approached Liu Yuanxun’s bedside.

Liu Yuanxun feared the dark, so a small window had been carved into the wall opposite the bed. Clear moonlight streamed through the straight-latticed panes, spilling across the bed and illuminating his faintly furrowed brow.

The room was stiflingly hot, enough to make anyone sweat, yet he lay bundled under a thick quilt. His face was deathly pale and sickly, his frail body curled into itself. His lips trembled as he whispered, almost inaudibly, “Cold…”

Cold?

Gu Lianzhao blinked in surprise.

But remembering that his own official career still depended on this man, he reached under the quilt anyway. His fingers sought out Liu Yuanxun’s wrist, intending to check if it was genuine chill or just a dream talking.

No sooner had his hand slipped inside than the man on the bed seized it—as if he’d only been pretending to sleep.

Gu Lianzhao jolted in alarm and yanked his hand free.

The grip had been weak; he’d evaded it easily. But the chill left behind on his wrist lingered.

In such a sweltering room, Liu Yuanxun’s hand had felt like ice, and there was no warmth at all beneath that heavy quilt. Quilts didn’t generate heat on their own—they trapped it. But if the body inside was icy cold to begin with, no amount of layers could help.

In a mansion as grand as Prince Rui’s, couldn’t someone at least tuck a few hand warmers under his covers?

It was the dead of night, though. He couldn’t very well go rousing the servants over a few dream-mumbled words. He wasn’t Liu Yuanxun’s concubine; he had no reason to fuss like this.

Gu Lianzhao turned to leave, only to hear the man behind him murmuring about the cold again…

Normally, he wouldn’t have let himself be held back so easily. But those words he’d overheard yesterday afternoon in the corridor stopped him cold. His feet refused to move.

Fine. If the Seventh Prince, cozy in his greenhouse of a life, had still thought to worry whether he was cold out there, then he could return the favor and help chase away this chill. Call it even.

Gu Lianzhao swept back the quilt at the edge of the bed and sat down. He reached under once more, his fingers closing precisely around Liu Yuanxun’s wrist.

The wrist felt shockingly fragile—even Gu Lianzhao was startled. Liu Yuanxun’s arm was slimmer than that of most gers. It wasn’t a matter of small bones; he was simply emaciated, with scarcely any flesh on him.

Gu Lianzhao’s hand closed around it with room to spare. To get this thin… his condition must be far worse than he’d imagined.

Distracted by the thought, Gu Lianzhao gripped a touch too firmly. The man on the bed couldn’t withstand even that much pressure. He frowned and began to struggle, but his efforts were so feeble that Gu Lianzhao could have pinned him with a single finger.

Such weakness sparked a flicker of mischief in Gu Lianzhao.

Deliberately, he loosened his hold and watched Liu Yuanxun pull his hand back. Just as the furrow in his brow began to ease, Gu Lianzhao grabbed it again—a little tighter this time. Liu Yuanxun struggled once more…

He toyed with him like that, loosening and gripping, until a flush of color crept into Liu Yuanxun’s cheeks. He looked far healthier for it.

Gu Lianzhao’s lips curved unconsciously. In the next instant, awareness crashed over him. His face darkened with disgust at his own behavior.

He stopped the childish game. Instead, he held firm to Liu Yuanxun’s wrist, ignoring the weak resistance, and gently straightened his arm.

Closing his eyes, Gu Lianzhao circulated his true qi. He divided his abundant internal force into fine threads and channeled it slowly through their joined palms. His cultivation was in Blazing Yang Internal Force; his body ran hotter than most people’s. Even a small portion would ease Liu Yuanxun’s discomfort considerably.

The threads of true qi entered at the wrist, traveled up the Governing Vessel through several acupoints, then descended along the Conception Vessel. They circled the dantian and repeated the cycle several times over.

The Small Heavenly Cycle was meant to improve qi and blood flow. After more than half a shichen—seven full circuits—Gu Lianzhao’s true qi had formed a closed loop within Liu Yuanxun’s body. Even if he let go now, it would be enough to ensure a good night’s sleep.

His good deed done, Gu Lianzhao had no intention of lingering for thanks. He pushed Liu Yuanxun’s hand back under the quilt, rose, and circled behind the screen. His expression remained stormy.

…

He’d run a fever the night before, so Liu Yuanxun naturally called off work the next day. He didn’t wake until the sun was well up.

The moment his eyes fluttered open, a cheerful voice piped up at his ear.

“Seventh Prince, you’re finally awake! This old servant has been waiting ages.”

Liu Yuanxun didn’t bother opening his eyes. Nightmare, he thought to himself.

Then he yanked the quilt over his head.

Eunuch Hong saw through the pretense and sidled closer. He tugged the covers down just enough to peek through and said ingratiatingly, “Seventh Prince, time to rise. His Majesty has been waiting for you in the Imperial Study for quite some time.”

The words “His Majesty” were enough to tell Liu Yuanxun he was trapped.

Still, he had no desire to start his day with the sight of Eunuch Hong. It might ruin his mood entirely. Muffled from beneath the quilt, he grumbled, “Where’s Ling Ting?”

“Lord Ling is waiting outside,” Eunuch Hong replied.

“You go first, Eunuch Hong. Have Ling Ting come in to help me dress. I’m not decent; it’s improper for guests.”

“That won’t do, Your Highness. You already have a consort. These tasks should fall to Attendant Consort Gu.” Without waiting for a reply, Eunuch Hong called out, “Attendant Consort Gu, come serve him.”

Liu Yuanxun pulled down the quilt with a frown. Not only Eunuch Hong stood there, but Gu Lianzhao loomed behind him as well.

“Eunuch Hong,” Liu Yuanxun said, his expression darkening and his tone sharp, “Is this Prince Rui’s Mansion, or your Hong estate?”

“This old servant is indeed named Hong Fu, and I hope Your Highness and the Seventh Lord enjoy boundless fortune together. As for the place—why, it’s of course Prince Rui’s Mansion, Your Highness’s own home.” Eunuch Hong grinned cheekily, his wrinkled old face creasing further.

Liu Yuanxun knew he couldn’t outtalk the man in nonsense. With a sigh, he gave up the futile struggle. “Just go. I don’t like an audience while I dress.”

“Right away, right away. This old servant is gone.”

He didn’t go far—just around the screen.

Liu Yuanxun glanced at the screen, then at Gu Lianzhao. Silently mouthing the words, he said, Trouble you.

Gu Lianzhao shook his head and picked up the undergarment from nearby. He approached Liu Yuanxun.

The moment the cool fabric touched his skin, Liu Yuanxun shivered. Ling Ting had always warmed his clothes by the brazier beforehand. Gu Lianzhao wasn’t so meticulous—or inclined to pamper—and simply dressed him in the chilled garment.

Once the underlayer and lining were on, Gu Lianzhao hit a snag.

He could manage his own clothes, and even the frailer brothers in the Embroidered Uniform Guard got by with one underlayer and an outer coat through winter. But these garments were a labyrinth—three layers inside, three outside. He had no clue which came next.

Seeing the rare blank look on Gu Lianzhao’s face, Liu Yuanxun nearly laughed. Mindful of Eunuch Hong beyond the screen, he held it in and pointed to the robe hanging on one side.

After the robe came a lined jacket. Five layers in, they weren’t done, but it was enough to head to the washroom.

Liu Yuanxun waved him off, signaling he didn’t need to follow inside.

But the instant he turned into the inner washing chamber, Eunuch Hong rounded the screen. He fixed Gu Lianzhao with a cold stare.

The sycophantic grin was gone, replaced by a stern visage. Without his smile, one could see that the kindly seeming Hong Fu possessed a truly intimidating face.

Gu Lianzhao read the warning in Hong Fu’s eyes. His pinky twitched at his side. He dropped to his knees, head bowed, awaiting orders.

Instead, Hong Fu crouched before him. He pinched Gu Lianzhao’s chin, turning his face toward the couch beyond the screen, then yanked off the hair ribbon concealing the ger mark on his forehead.

The intent was clear: a reminder of his station—and a threat to consummate things with Prince Rui soon.

Gu Lianzhao schooled his features into meek obedience and nodded.

Eunuch Hong had arrived abruptly, but even after clearing the couch, he couldn’t fool those sharp eyes. Whether the prince’s bed had seen a visitor was plain to Hong Fu.

Hong Fu tossed the ribbon onto him and shot a vicious glare, brimming with warning.

Then he strode toward the washing chamber, pitching his voice into an overly saccharine whine. “Seventh Prince, let this old servant attend you…”

Liu Yuanxun’s unwilling protests followed. “I told you to wait outside! What are you—stop that! I’ll do it myself… Eunuch Hong!”

Eunuch Hong chuckled “heh heh” nonstop. About two quarters of an hour later, he shoved out Liu Yuanxun, whose long black hair hung loose.

Gu Lianzhao had already tucked away the ribbon and stood innocently by the window. Hearing the commotion, he turned.

One glance, and his breath caught.

The Seventh Prince was usually pallid with illness, any color washed out by frailty. Today, though, he brimmed with vitality.

The pale blue lined jacket was one Gu Lianzhao had dressed him in; the creamy white robe, one he’d fastened at the waist. His hair fell straight and glossy as sandalwood, his porcelain skin tinged with healthy red. His lips held a soft flush, his eyes shimmered like rippling water. Bathed in the room’s sunlight, he looked a merciful god descended to earth, warm and benevolent.

Their gazes met for the briefest instant. Gu Lianzhao’s breath hitched just as briefly. His throat bobbed; he ducked his head in haste.

Liu Yuanxun didn’t notice, but Eunuch Hong did.

A dark glint flashed in the eunuch’s eyes, gone in a blink.

Eunuch Hong ushered Liu Yuanxun to the mirror. “Does Attendant Consort Gu know how to style hair?”

Gu Lianzhao kept his eyes down. “I… am not skilled in it.”

“Hmph.” Eunuch Hong snorted derisively but didn’t press. He took up the comb himself and began arranging Liu Yuanxun’s hair.

The oxhorn comb, studded with gems, was extravagantly fine. As Hong Fu worked, genuine emotion welled in his eyes. “Last time this old servant styled Your Highness’s hair was in His Majesty’s sleeping chambers. Back then, His Majesty was still the Crown Prince, and Your Highness was…”

Hong Fu trailed off. He dabbed at his eye corner, pretending at tears to cover the near-slip.

He slanted a glance at Liu Yuanxun’s face. Seeing his expression serene, as if he’d heard nothing, the eunuch’s heart settled.

Once washing was done, Ling Ting was finally allowed in.

He fetched an outer robe from the cabinet, selected a grand cloak edged in silver fox fur, and layered them on Liu Yuanxun. Finally, he slipped a hand warmer into his sleeve.

Eunuch Hong watched with a smile. “Now that’s more like it. Ling Ting, take some time when you can to teach Attendant Consort Gu. These are tasks that should fall to him.”

Ling Ting bowed his head. “Yes, sir,” he said deferentially.

After a morning of endless fussing, it wasn’t until early afternoon that Ling Ting helped Liu Yuanxun into the carriage and headed straight for the palace.