Liu Yuanxun had no idea if it truly belonged to the Mongol Prince, but the dagger’s materials and craftsmanship lent some credibility to the vendor’s words.
From afar, it looked exquisite and unique; up close, it was even more luxurious.
The hilt was carved from extremely hard purple light sandalwood, adorned with intricate patterns inlaid with three evenly sized rubies—both beautiful and practical, preventing blood from making the grip slippery. The blade was as thin as a cicada’s wing, its tip gleaming with a chilling edge that commanded respect.
The moment Liu Yuanxun laid eyes on the dagger, Gu Lianzhao’s image sprang to mind.
It was just like him—beautiful yet deadly. Sheathed in sheepskin, it gained an innate wildness.
Thinking of how Gu Lianzhao was now his concubine in name only, yet he hadn’t given him a single gift, Liu Yuanxun felt this dagger was perfect.
Deliberately shopping for one wouldn’t be as fitting as this serendipitous find. He slid the dagger back into its sheath and said, “What’s the price?”
The vendor held up a finger. “One thousand taels, firm. If you like it, take it. If not, leave it on my stall and browse elsewhere.”
One thousand taels was steep, but the dagger was exceptional. Those three rubies on the hilt alone were worth it.
However…
Liu Yuanxun glanced at the vendor’s shabby stall. “Something worth a thousand taels, just left on a wooden rack like that?”
The vendor chuckled. “I sell by fate. It’s out here to find its destined owner. If you think it’s worth it, take it. If not, you’re not the one.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it.” Liu Yuanxun smiled, instructed Ling Ting to hand over a thousand-tael banknote, and took the dagger.
He hadn’t haggled, buying it on a whim because it felt right. Only afterward did he realize that as a regular gift, it might be too extravagant.
It wasn’t that Gu Lianzhao didn’t deserve it; he just worried it would become a burden. After some thought, he decided to store it in the warehouse for now, until the right moment arose.
After buying the horse and acquiring the dagger, by the time they returned to the prince’s residence, lunchtime had long passed.
Ever since Liu Yuanxun’s previous instructions, the kitchen prepared meals for Gu Lianzhao ahead of every mealtime.
Usually, Gu Lianzhao ate alone, but today he had waited specifically for Liu Yuanxun. He hadn’t stood at the main gate, but he was in the front courtyard.
This unusual behavior put Liu Yuanxun on alert; he feared something had happened. With Ling Ting still there, he couldn’t speak freely, so he found an excuse to send him away.
“Ling Ting, go inquire outside if there’s anyone skilled in veterinary arts. If you find one, invite them back. I want to ask about caring for this new horse.”
Ling Ting’s heart tightened. How could he not realize the prince was just looking for a reason to dismiss him? Before Gu Lianzhao arrived, he had been the closest to the prince. He thought even with a new concubine, his position was secure—but Gu Lianzhao’s arrival had changed everything.
Suppressing the bitterness in his heart, he asked softly, “Then who will attend to you?”
“With A’Qiao here, go without worry and handle it properly.” Liu Yuanxun’s tone was even, but his words pierced Ling Ting’s heart like a blade.
Ling Ting felt a sharp pain in his chest. He trembled slightly, murmured a quiet “Mm,” and lacked even the strength to bow properly. He turned and hurried out the door.
Once Ling Ting was gone, Liu Yuanxun breathed a sigh of relief. As he headed back to his chambers, he asked carefully, “Did something happen?”
“No, I just thought of some things.” Gu Lianzhao’s expression was calm as ever. He naturally stepped forward, took Liu Yuanxun’s arm, and said softly, “This morning, when Eunuch Hong came, he didn’t deliberately make things hard for me, but his words carried some implications. At first, I didn’t pay much mind, but while practicing martial arts this morning, I pondered it carefully and realized there might be deeper meaning.”
Liu Yuanxun grew tense at once. “What did he imply?”
“I don’t know if Eunuch Hong believed our story about consummating the marriage, but he said, ‘These things won’t happen once or twice; it needs to be long-term to work.'” Here, Gu Lianzhao watched his face closely and asked in a low voice, “Does Your Highness know what ‘long-term’ means?”
Liu Yuanxun scarcely noticed the “long-term” part; the earlier remark caught his attention.
But he had no clue, so he asked, “A’Qiao, do you know of anything that requires intimacy to achieve?”
They talked as they walked, soon reaching the chamber door. Gu Lianzhao didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently lifted the curtain and helped Liu Yuanxun inside.
Gu Lianzhao had mulled this over long before. He had even posed the question deliberately, just to voice the answer himself.
After a feigned pause, he said slowly, “I only know that in martial arts practice, if two people’s internal forces are one yin and one yang, they can harmonize through the dual cultivation method to boost their power. But Your Highness has no internal force, and mine is pure yang internal energy…”
Liu Yuanxun looked up sharply, stunned. “You’re pure yang internal energy?!”
Gu Lianzhao played his role to perfection. He froze for a moment, then lowered his eyes with a complicated expression. He swept back his robes and knelt on the ground without a word.
Liu Yuanxun blinked in surprise, then reached out to help him up. “What are you doing? Stand and talk.”
Gu Lianzhao refused to rise but lifted his face, gazing up at Liu Yuanxun. The angle made his already heart-stoppingly beautiful features seem even more refined, especially with the deliberate mix of stubbornness and vulnerability in his eyes. It instantly filled Liu Yuanxun’s mind with one thought: “He’s only eighteen!”
Gu Lianzhao drew a deep breath. “I’ll say it on my knees.”
Liu Yuanxun couldn’t sway him, and the revelation of his pure yang internal energy had left him reeling anyway. He stopped insisting, eager to hear the rest.
“Your Highness, do you remember fainting from fever a few days ago?”
Liu Yuanxun nodded for him to continue.
“The next day, when Physician Wang came to check your pulse, he happened to mention pure yang internal energy. I chased after him and asked what it did. He said it could replenish your qi and blood, regulate your meridians.”
“You know my condition at the time… so I kept it to myself.” With that, he bowed his head slowly, as if overcome with shame.
The unspoken words invited endless speculation. What had Gu Lianzhao been thinking then? Distrust, fearing he’d be seen as a human cauldron for treatment? Or simple loathing, hoping for an early death and thus unwilling to reveal it?
Gu Lianzhao left it unsaid, but Liu Yuanxun instantly supplied several reasons, each fitting his character. And in doing so, many past events came flooding back.
Of course.
Gu Lianzhao was an outsider; he knew nothing, so naturally he didn’t realize pure yang internal energy couldn’t extend his life either.
Besides, Gu Lianzhao had wanted him dead from the start. Only then could he escape the shackles of being a male concubine in the prince’s residence.
Memories he’d cast aside began to resurface. Liu Yuanxun wasn’t one to dwell on the past, but realizing he’d treated Gu Lianzhao like family while the other still held the same unchanged attitude—even inwardly wishing for his death—left even his generous heart feeling a chill.
Gu Lianzhao kept his head down but discerned the shift in Liu Yuanxun’s emotions from his breathing alone, thanks to his sharp ears.
He had known his pure yang internal energy would be discovered eventually; the longer he hid it, the greater the risk. Better to orchestrate the reveal himself than let it slip by chance—that way, he could minimize the fallout.
And Liu Yuanxun’s reaction was even better than expected.
Since he hadn’t walked away, it meant that despite his worst assumptions, he was still willing to listen. Gu Lianzhao knew explanations were futile if the other party wouldn’t hear them; only then did his words matter.
He let out a quiet breath of relief and said softly, “I feared being confined here as a tool for your treatment, so I never dared tell you the truth…”
Just as he’d guessed.
Liu Yuanxun sighed, his heart cooling further.
He understood Gu Lianzhao’s destitute situation and his cautious, self-preserving nature. But precisely because he understood, discovering himself among those guarded against brought a helpless sense of dejection.
“But…” Gu Lianzhao raised his eyes slightly. A hint of tension hid in his gaze toward Liu Yuanxun, and his voice dropped even lower. “No one’s ever treated me this well, so I don’t want you to die. Ever since learning my pure yang internal energy could help you, every night when I had the chance, I’d hold your wrist and channel my energy to regulate your body. Seeing your complexion improve these past days… I might not have shown it, but inside… I was happy…”
Liu Yuanxun was utterly shocked. “No wonder I’ve felt better lately. You’ve been regulating my body all this time? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t speak up earlier because I didn’t want to be treated like a tool without any dignity. I helped you because you’ve been so good to me—I know that full well. And the reason I told you today… is that I don’t want to keep hiding it from you anymore.”
Gu Lianzhao’s words were earnest and heartfelt, vividly portraying the helplessness and inner turmoil of a seventeen-year-old boy.
It wasn’t that he had no desire to speak; it was fear that had held him back, making him too afraid to voice it. And yet, even in silence, he had quietly and selflessly helped Liu Yuanxun regulate his body, shouldering the mental burden of his secret all alone until today, when he could no longer hold it in.
Moreover, given Gu Lianzhao’s habitual caution, if he had truly wished to conceal the matter, how could he have let such a vital secret slip through carelessness? Clearly, he had already resolved to confess.
With this realization, the disappointment from moments before dissipated like passing clouds. Liu Yuanxun let out a sigh and reached out once more to steady him, his voice soft. “I know you had your reasons for this. It’s not your fault.”
Gu Lianzhao lowered his gaze and rose slowly with Liu Yuanxun’s support. Hidden from the other’s view, he silently curved his lips—this hurdle had been cleared completely.
Prince Rui’s pure-hearted kindness and innocence only made the dark desires in Gu Lianzhao’s heart surge more fiercely.
After all, human greed was insatiable. When someone discovered they could deceive another with mere sweet words, their audacity would naturally swell, and their actions grow ever more reckless.
Gu Lianzhao allowed Liu Yuanxun to help him to his feet. Just as he was on the verge of standing straight, Liu Yuanxun added in a gentle tone,
“But in all my life, nothing disgusts me more than being deceived. If something troubles you, just discuss it with me. Never lie to me.”
Gu Lianzhao went rigid from head to toe. The words struck like an omen—or a warning—transforming instantly into a sword suspended above his head, ready to drop at any moment. A cold sweat instantly beaded along his spine.
