Liu Yuanxun’s illness had gone through three stages in total.
He was born with a frail constitution, and it was not until he reached fifteen or sixteen that he managed to nurse his body back to some semblance of health.
Later, in order to save the Crown Prince, at the age of seventeen he knelt for three straight days and nights in the rain outside the Imperial Study, nearly dying on his knees before finally trading his own life for the Crown Prince’s. Only then did he wring from the Late Emperor a chance for the Crown Prince to prove his innocence.
That kneeling saved the Crown Prince’s life but destroyed the body Liu Yuanxun had carefully nurtured for more than a decade. Without stumbling upon a renowned physician by chance, he likely would have perished in the winter of his seventeenth year.
The renowned physician who treated Liu Yuanxun was an eccentric who had answered the Imperial Edict List. Dressed like a beggar, he claimed he would examine Liu Yuanxun not for money but simply to sample the exquisite liquors of the palace and see what all the fuss was about.
The palace guards took him for a madman stirring up trouble and moved to seize him. Yet even as eighteen guards swarmed him, not one could lay a hand on the hem of his robe. It was then they realized the Old Beggar was no ordinary vagrant but a hidden master.
Afterward, the Old Beggar bathed, entered the palace, and began treating the Seventh Prince. He truly possessed skill, though he treated no minor ailments—only those teetering on death’s door, whom he managed to keep clinging to life.
Two years later, the Old Beggar passed away. Before dying, he left Liu Yuanxun a pile of bizarre medicines, including one vial of potion capable of erasing a Virginity Mark.
The potion required continuous application over seven days, with no interval exceeding twelve hours. Liu Yuanxun selected a clean-tipped writing brush, dipped it into the vial, and carefully dabbed the medicine onto Gu Lianzhao’s Virginity Mark.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
The question felt utterly foreign. No one had ever asked him anything like it. Gu Lianzhao stared blankly for several seconds before murmuring, “A little.”
In truth, it did not hurt—at least not to Gu Lianzhao. The faint prickling sensation was nothing worth calling pain. Yet once the words were spoken aloud, it suddenly felt distinctly unpleasant.
Liu Yuanxun’s movements grew even gentler upon hearing this. “Then I’ll be lighter.”
His long, thick eyelashes drooped low, like butterflies perched upon his eyelids. Each blink sent their wings fluttering. Gu Lianzhao watched, mesmerized, an inexplicable urge rising to reach out and brush them.
“All done.” Liu Yuanxun exhaled in relief and looked up. “No need to bandage it. In a moment, it’ll…”
His upward glance met Gu Lianzhao’s gaze head-on. His words caught in his throat, and for some inexplicable reason, he froze—his breath hitching for an instant.
Gu Lianzhao seemed oblivious to it all, merely quirking a brow. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Liu Yuanxun averted his eyes uncomfortably and lowered his voice. “I meant you can roll your sleeve back down soon.”
He seldom spoke to anyone at such close quarters, and the realization that his interlocutor was a ger brought a faint heat to his ears.
He rose while setting the brush aside. Once it was put away, Gu Lianzhao remained seated on the edge of the bed, leaving Liu Yuanxun unsure whether to sit or stand, caught in awkward indecision.
Thankfully, Gu Lianzhao spoke up at last, diffusing the tension. “Your Highness, do you remember the day Eunuch Hong barged right into the bedchamber?”
Liu Yuanxun nodded and sank onto a stool, yielding the bed to Gu Lianzhao.
Gu Lianzhao subtly noted the space between them before continuing. “The moment I heard the commotion outside, I cleared away every trace of bedding from the daybed. Even so, Eunuch Hong discovered we sleep apart. He reprimanded me for it afterward—and if it happens again…”
“He scolded you?” Liu Yuanxun’s brow furrowed in clear displeasure. “Why is he always singling you out for trouble?”
Gu Lianzhao shook his head, his gaze dropping demurely. From Liu Yuanxun’s vantage, he appeared utterly pitiable.
Liu Yuanxun itched to vent his spleen, but Eunuch Hong was nowhere nearby to hear it.
Still, Gu Lianzhao had a valid point. Eunuch Hong was nothing but trouble. By precedence, he was the Emperor’s most trusted eunuch, having attended the monarch since infancy. By rank, he served as Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial while overseeing the Eastern Depot, holding principal fourth-rank status and wielding vast influence. Throughout the entire princely residence, no one but Liu Yuanxun himself dared bar his path.
If they were to put on this act, they could not erase the Virginity Mark only to leave glaring loopholes anyone could spot. The problem was…
Seeing Liu Yuanxun’s troubled look, Gu Lianzhao offered understandingly, “If Your Highness doesn’t object, perhaps we could share the bed. I sleep very still and don’t fidget. Your Highness can simply pretend I’m not there.”
With a ger like Gu Lianzhao making such an offer, any further refusal would smack of pretension.
Liu Yuanxun simply hadn’t anticipated how devoted Gu Lianzhao was to his calling. To return to the Embroidered Uniform Guard, he was willing to go to extremes—even endure sharing a bed with another man. Not like Liu Yuanxun himself, who took greatest delight in his illnesses precisely because they spared him trips to the Taichang Temple.
Gu Lianzhao’s drive was truly admirable.
…
That night, Liu Yuanxun assumed insomnia would claim him, but he had overestimated his frail health. His head had barely touched the pillow when sleep overtook him. The tangled emotions of bedding down with a ger never even had a chance to surface before oblivion wrapped him tight.
He slumbered peacefully, but Gu Lianzhao lay utterly sleepless.
The reason was plain: a human ice pack clung to him, head nestled warmly in the hollow of his shoulder, breaths rising and falling in deep, contented rhythm.
Who could blame him? What had once been a frigid nest now cradled a toasty furnace—soft, not at all poky, holding a perfect, steady warmth. Liu Yuanxun was more than comfortable; he was blissfully so.
For Gu Lianzhao, however, regret set in the instant the weight settled against him. He had stressed his own impeccable sleeping etiquette but neglected to inquire after the Seventh Prince’s habits. Caught in this bind, he could neither press closer nor pull away.
He longed to dislodge the body atop him and shove it back to its side, but the man weak and sickly when awake proved surprisingly vigorous in slumber, clutching fast—one arm banded around Gu Lianzhao’s waist, the other locked around his neck, as if determined to meld into one.
The elusive cold-plum scent he’d faintly detected in the carriage days prior sharpened now, drifting lazily on Liu Yuanxun’s every exhale to gradually saturate Gu Lianzhao’s senses.
It did not emanate from clothing or linens; it seeped straight from Liu Yuanxun’s breath, as if born deep within him.
But that was impossible.
Unless…
Unless he was some plum-blossom demon incarnate, chilled to the core, exhaling the very perfume of winter plums…
Ridiculous nonsense. Gu Lianzhao squeezed his eyes shut, scattering the absurd fancy. In the haze of muddled thoughts, he could ignore Liu Yuanxun’s presence. But clarity brought it into sharp, inescapable focus.
Never had he felt it so keenly: he was a ger, and the man clamped around him was one who could quicken his womb and father his child.
Gu Lianzhao’s chest heaved with agitation, emotions a tangled storm he could not name. Liu Yuanxun’s grip, strong as it was, paled against his own strength—he could have flung the prince aside and quit the bed in disgust. Yet he did not stir…
Nor was it affection. He felt no urge to draw near Liu Yuanxun or cradle him in turn. This prickling numbness resembled nothing so much as Qi Deviation, a restless agitation plaguing mind and spirit alike.
The weight upon him might have been a thousand catties—or laced with some toxin that melted bone and sinew. Mere contact shackled his limbs, draining any impulse to resist.
Gu Lianzhao drew deep, steadying breaths, then ventured reason. “Your Highness, wake up…”
Liu Yuanxun’s vital energies ran deficient; only a full night’s rest roused him, and even Ling Ting could not stir him then. Gu Lianzhao stood no chance.
Thus Liu Yuanxun lay motionless, lost in sweet slumber.
“Your Highness! Wake up!” Gu Lianzhao raised his voice.
Still nothing.
Such placid repose even planted a seed of doubt: was he feigning?
Shove him off? Pinch him awake?
Gu Lianzhao wrestled with the choice all night long.
Only as dawn’s pallid light crept in did resolve form. He bundled the prince to the bed’s inner edge, slipped from the covers, and headed out to drill his forms.
…
Liu Yuanxun awoke uncommonly refreshed, his appetite whetted for once. He downed half a bowl of plain congee with light side dishes and even praised the kitchen staff’s handiwork.
His brighter complexion buoyed Ling Ting’s mood as well.
Yet the sight that had greeted him at first light lingered, prompting a hesitant query. “Master, you and Lord Gu…”
Liu Yuanxun had no wish to confide in Ling Ting or the others—not from mistrust, but to shield them. Knowledge would make Ling Ting liable for withholding from the Emperor; ignorance was safer.
“Er, isn’t he my Attendant Consort?” Liu Yuanxun blinked, mustering earnestness. “Sharing a bed with one’s own Attendant Consort isn’t odd at all, is it?”
Ling Ting had not foreseen such a reply. After a beat of surprise, he curved his lips in a faint smile. “Indeed, Master. You’re quite right.”
“Oh, right.” Breakfast done, Liu Yuanxun recalled his scheme. “Have Ling Qing fetch a tidied zither score. Swap it with the one in the study, add some discreet marks, and deliver it to the Taichang Temple Repository.”
Ling Ting ventured, “Baiting them out into the open, Master?”
Liu Yuanxun nodded. “Our leads are too scant to sit idle. We must draw the snakes from their holes.”
“Understood.” Ling Ting bowed. “I’ll instruct Ling Qing at once.”
As Ling Ting turned to go, Liu Yuanxun called after him. “Keep outsiders clear of this if you can.”
He refused to entangle the innocent and risk their lives.
Ling Ting nodded gravely, etching the order in his mind.
Once Ling Ting had gone, Liu Yuanxun pored over memories of his final encounter with Liu San.
Liu San had claimed the zither score came from Boss Song of Gaoxian County. With Liu San dead, any trail led back to Gaoxian.
Gaoxian County…
The name evoked Jiangnan’s watery climes.
Unless memory failed, Grand Secretary Meng’s son served as governor there. A trip to Gaoxian might warrant a letter of introduction from Grand Secretary Meng.
The thought dragged up that memorial inscribed with “Meng Yannian.” Closer scrutiny revealed the anomaly.
He had glimpsed only those three characters, yet their placement defied protocol.
Official memorials naming fellow ministers prefixed titles—even impeachments opened with “Grand Secretary Meng Yannian.” Those three vertical strokes had leaped out because they headed a sentence.
Evidently, the author had omitted all honorifics, treating Grand Secretary Meng as some nameless peasant. Tianyong etiquette brooked no such lapse among courtiers. Barring some contrived excuse…
A chill pierced Liu Yuanxun’s heart.
Without the honorific title and with no word of the Grand Secretary’s dismissal from office having leaked out, the message conveyed by addressing him by name alone could only be one thing:
The Emperor was about to turn his blade on Grand Secretary Meng.
