Chapter 36

Once inside the room, Gu Lianzhao changed his clothes and headed out to practice martial arts on his own, his demeanor as calm as if nothing had happened at all.

That attitude suddenly ignited a spark of hope in Ling Ting’s heart. He couldn’t help but wonder: Was there some hidden truth behind it all? If his master had truly done anything with him, how could Gu Lianzhao act so indifferent?

Ling Ting took a deep breath. Under the pretense of helping with his clothes, he carefully undid Liu Yuanxun’s sash.

As the garments loosened one by one, the marks on his skin became increasingly clear. Ling Ting’s heart felt gripped by an invisible hand, his breath catching in his throat. Yet that faint hope in his chest still urged him to speak, as if Liu Yuanxun’s denial would make it all untrue.

Ling Ting swallowed dryly, his voice trembling slightly as he forced out the words. “Master, last night in the palace… did something happen between you and Lord Gu?”

Liu Yuanxun didn’t want to deceive him, but he also didn’t want him knowing too much. So he answered vaguely, “He is my Attendant Consort, after all…”

“So you allowed him to fulfill his duties as Attendant Consort?” Ling Ting asked, a hint of sourness hidden in his tone.

Liu Yuanxun didn’t notice the odd edge in Ling Ting’s voice. He nodded carelessly. “It was what everyone expected, anyway.”

Those simple words struck like a heavy hammer, shattering the last of Ling Ting’s hope. Dazed, he helped Liu Yuanxun wash up, then stayed by his side as usual while he read.

Beneath that facade of calm, however, lurked a pain so intense it nearly tore him apart.

He had never hated anyone in the first half of his life, never despised anyone—not even when his father’s crimes had dragged him down, which he had endured in silence.

But in this moment, he hated Gu Lianzhao like never before.

He envied him. He loathed him. Without Gu Lianzhao’s arrival, he could have stayed by his master’s side as always, accompanying him quietly until the end of his days.

But now everything was ruined because of Gu Lianzhao.

Liu Yuanxun remained oblivious to Ling Ting’s inner turmoil. Under the flickering candlelight, he simply read on. He finished half the book before drowsiness crept over him. Closing it, he said warmly to Ling Ting, “It’s late. Go and rest.”

Ling Ting wanted desperately to refuse, to ask if, once he left, his master would share a bed with Gu Lianzhao again and do the things he saw as a ger’s duty.

But he didn’t dare.

He knew Liu Yuanxun too well. If his master discovered these feelings, punishment or disgust might be avoided, but he would surely send Ling Ting far away, never allowing him back into the residence for the rest of his life.

Liu Yuanxun was the gentlest of men, with few selfish desires. Sending him away, keeping him at a distance—it all stemmed from not wanting him to sink deeper into this hopeless affection.

His gentleness was intoxicating, but his clarity was terrifying.

Ling Ting wasn’t a timid coward. He simply knew his fate too well, so among the worst possibilities, he chose the best outcome.

He had already resigned himself to it, accepted reality, and even begun to cherish the fleeting happiness he could grasp.

But Gu Lianzhao’s arrival had shattered his self-deceptive illusions. It turned out Liu Yuanxun wasn’t incapable of intimacy with another—he simply would never choose Ling Ting.

If only…

If he were a ger too, would things…

Would everything be different?

With a soft creak, Gu Lianzhao returned from his practice and stepped into the room. Lost in his turbulent thoughts, Ling Ting didn’t notice until Gu Lianzhao entered the inner chamber, suddenly making them three.

“Lord Ling.” Gu Lianzhao cupped his hands in greeting. Whether by accident or design, he added, “It’s late. You should rest. I’ll keep an eye on things in the Prince’s chambers.”

Ling Ting tried to force a smile, but failed. He felt as if mockery lurked in Gu Lianzhao’s cold, pond-like gaze, exposing every bit of his dishevelment. He could only nod hastily, forgoing even a return salute, and flee the room like a scolded child.

Liu Yuanxun instinctively frowned. “Why do I feel like Ling Ting was acting strange?”

Gu Lianzhao sat casually on a stool and poured himself a cup of water. His tone was offhand. “Everyone has to go sometime. He has to attend you alone and can’t just leave on his own. When nature calls urgently, it’s normal to rush off in a panic.”

Liu Yuanxun had never encountered anyone as glib and quick-witted as Gu Lianzhao in his life. A few words were enough to distract him, turning his thoughts inward to his own shortcomings.

Full of guilt, Liu Yuanxun said, “You’re more thoughtful. I only considered my dislike of others getting too close, but I didn’t think about whether Ling Ting might be too busy to step away. That was my oversight…”

Gu Lianzhao drained his cup and offered a practiced consolation. “No matter. Didn’t you say before, ‘Now that I’ve entered the Prince’s residence, we’re all family’? I’m happy to help Lord Ling with some duties. I just worry it might make you uncomfortable, especially since you just mentioned not liking others serving you up close.”

Liu Yuanxun replied, “It’s just a habit formed over the years—nothing like a strict rule. Don’t worry about it.”

A habit formed over the years?

Gu Lianzhao thoughtfully turned the rim of his cup.

Habits stemmed partly from nature and partly from those around you. He wondered which it was for Liu Yuanxun.

If the former, fine. If the latter, then he needed to take a fresh look at Ling Ting.

Liu Yuanxun had been about to sleep, but with Gu Lianzhao back, he chatted with him briefly. Glancing idly at the markings on the Incense Clock, he was mildly surprised. “Why did you finish so early tonight?”

Standing in the shadows beyond the candlelight, Gu Lianzhao removed his outer robe as he explained softly, “Last night’s business isn’t fully settled yet. Eunuch Hong remains the biggest hurdle. Now that the play has begun, it can’t end halfway. If I keep practicing martial arts outside day and night like before, no one will believe I’m a ger who cares for his husband.”

The word “husband” drifted into Liu Yuanxun’s ears, making him inexplicably uneasy. The distance and propriety of the day seemed to sink with the sun, and under nightfall’s cover, last night’s faint, sticky web of ambiguity swept over him once more.

Liu Yuanxun coughed lightly to cover it. “No need to be so cautious. Eunuch Hong is the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, after all—busy with important matters. He’s not likely to fixate on such trifles.”

Gu Lianzhao countered, “Better safe than sorry.”

With that, he had shed his outer clothes and approached Liu Yuanxun’s side. Before Liu Yuanxun could react, he lifted the ends of his hair and rubbed them gently between his fingers.

Fresh from his bath, Liu Yuanxun still carried a hint of dampness. His moon-white nightclothes draped thinly over his frail frame, bathed in the soft glow of the candle, his features exuding a serene peace that soothed the heart.

“What are you…” Liu Yuanxun sat up straighter, uncomfortable, and reached to reclaim his hair. But Gu Lianzhao released it first.

Gu Lianzhao lowered his gaze, focusing intently on the strands. In a flat tone, he said, “It’s still damp. It’s late—time for bed. I’ll dry it for you.”

Liu Yuanxun had expected a cloth, but instead, Gu Lianzhao combed through his long hair with his fingers. True Qi flowed from his fingertips, and in moments, the ends were dry.

Amazed and a little embarrassed, Liu Yuanxun said, “Isn’t True Qi precious for martial artists? Using it to dry hair seems wasteful…”

“Wet hair before bed can cause headaches. It’s just a bit of True Qi—don’t worry about it.” Gu Lianzhao released his hand, subtly rubbing his fingertips, then stepped back. “I’ll go bathe. You rest early.”

Though Gu Lianzhao’s actions were intimate, his attitude remained as detached as ever, which eased Liu Yuanxun’s tension.

He hadn’t been exaggerating. He was accustomed to being served, but over these years, only Ling Ting had done so up close. With anyone else, aside from whether it suited him, the sheer discomfort was the real issue.

Gu Lianzhao’s behavior occasionally unsettled him, but he always pulled back just right. This push and pull led Liu Yuanxun to gradually accept his proximity without realizing it.

Little did he know Gu Lianzhao was flying him like a kite—easing the line when he tensed, advancing when he relaxed. With measured tension and release, by the time Gu Lianzhao fully replaced Ling Ting, Liu Yuanxun might not even notice.

It was bedtime, but the sound of splashing water from the adjoining side room kept Liu Yuanxun awake. He lay on the inner side of the bed with eyes closed, waiting for Gu Lianzhao to finish.

The water sounds faded, followed by a faint clink, as if something had fallen to the floor.

Curious, Liu Yuanxun opened his eyes and turned toward the side room. He didn’t call out, just listened quietly for what might have dropped.

But silence reigned—no water, no voices. The quiet only heightened his curiosity until he finally asked, “A’Qiao, did something fall on the floor?”

After a pause, Gu Lianzhao replied softly, “A soapberry.”

“Oh.” Curiosity sated, Liu Yuanxun fell silent. He burrowed under the covers, without a thought of offering to help pick it up.

On the other side of the wall, Gu Lianzhao waited several moments. Hearing nothing more, his face darkened. He held back, finished washing hastily, and emerged.

By now, Liu Yuanxun was asleep, his black hair splayed out, his pale face serene. With lips a soft shade, he looked almost vividly alluring.

Gu Lianzhao gently lifted the quilt. Without trying, he simply lay there warming the bed. Soon, Liu Yuanxun, like a cat drawn to dried fish, scooted over on his own and nestled close.

The faint plum fragrance was so subtle it required focused sniffing to detect. Taking advantage of Liu Yuanxun’s sleep, Gu Lianzhao pulled him into his arms without restraint, his palm resting lightly on his waist.

Slender and fragile—one hand could encircle it.

Under the cover of night, Gu Lianzhao boldly measured Liu Yuanxun’s waist inch by inch with the web of his hand, touching him and rubbing against him. Even when Liu Yuanxun frowned involuntarily from the tickling, Gu Lianzhao had no intention of letting him go.

He wrapped his arm around Liu Yuanxun’s waist and lay on his side, gathering the dark locks of hair he had just touched back into his palm. Like a fisherman reeling in his line, he slowly wound the strands around his hand.

Liu Yuanxun remained completely oblivious, lying there quietly, utterly unaware of what was happening.

Gu Lianzhao gradually found amusement in his unguarded state, and his movements grew even bolder. His hand slid slowly from Liu Yuanxun’s waist to the collar of his robe. The fine silk was smooth and sleek; with a mere flick of his finger, he could pull open the front.

His Adam’s apple bobbed unconsciously as a wave of heat coursed through his body. His breathing grew more rapid, and his gaze took on a frightening predatory glint.

So what if Liu Yuanxun was an impossibly noble prince? So what if he extended his kindness indiscriminately to everyone? At night, didn’t he still obediently crawl into Gu Lianzhao’s arms, helpless to resist whatever he did?

Gu Lianzhao made no effort to hide his malice, nor did he feel any pangs of conscience. He even felt a twisted thrill from the venom deep in his bones.

This was how it should be.

This was the only way it was fair.

He even began scheming in the back of his mind: one day, when he grew tired of this game, he could simply shake Liu Yuanxun awake and demand to know why he had taken liberties with him. With that saintly heart of his, wouldn’t Liu Yuanxun panic and grasp his hand full of apologies, letting him demand whatever compensation he wanted?

Hadn’t Liu Yuanxun always been like that?

Playing the good man—but only a heartless one at that.

Serves him right for ending up in this state.

The more Gu Lianzhao thought about it, the more his hot blood surged. His fingers trembled slightly as they inched toward Liu Yuanxun’s collar.

He hadn’t thought about why he was doing this. He didn’t even know what he would do once his hand slipped inside. He was simply driven by an inexplicable impulse—to touch him, to stroke him, to press against him without any barriers between them…

In this moment, that faint flicker of attraction had long been incinerated by the surging tide of desire. Forget liking him or loving him—what mattered now was ripping open his clothes and feeling the skin on his chest.

In his sleep, Liu Yuanxun’s brows furrowed slightly, as if sensing that terrifying gaze or trapped in a nightmare. The arm he had around Gu Lianzhao’s neck tightened gradually, and his pale lips moved faintly, as if murmuring something…

Gu Lianzhao paused his movements and lowered his eyes to gaze quietly at the man in his arms.

Liu Yuanxun made no sound, and the motion of his lips was so subtle that Gu Lianzhao stared intently for a long time but still couldn’t make out what he was saying.

He couldn’t be bothered to puzzle over it anymore. All he knew was that his pinky finger had already hooked securely onto Liu Yuanxun’s robe—with just a gentle tug…

At that moment, a crystalline teardrop welled up at the corner of Liu Yuanxun’s eye. In an instant, it slid down along his temple and vanished into his hair.

It was as if that single tear had scalded Gu Lianzhao. His whole body jolted, and he yanked his hand back. That one drop was like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing all the desire burning in his heart.

Perhaps without his disturbance, Liu Yuanxun slept even more deeply. A few seconds later, the murmur at his lips suddenly became clear. Even without leaning closer, Gu Lianzhao could distinctly hear him calling for one person: “Consort Mother…”