Chapter 81 Part 1

When Gu Lianzhao returned to the mansion, he had not even led Black Thunder back to the stables when the servant guarding the gate hurried over eagerly to report the news. “Attendant Consort, you should go back and take a look quickly. The Master is ill. Physician Wang just left.”

Liu Yuanxun had been perfectly fine when he left at noon. How could he have fallen ill after just two or three hours?

Gu Lianzhao had no time to think further. He handed the reins to the servant and hurried with quick steps to the bedroom in the rear courtyard.

When he rounded the screen, he saw Ling Ting sitting at the bedside. Ling Ting held a damp, warm cloth and was gently wiping Liu Yuanxun’s face.

Hearing Gu Lianzhao’s footsteps, Ling Ting slowly rose and greeted him in a low voice. “Lord Gu.”

Gu Lianzhao replied in a similarly soft tone, “Lord Ling.”

The two of them were polite and proper, as if all those veiled conflicts from before had never happened. When Gu Lianzhao drew near, Ling Ting stepped aside no matter what thoughts filled his mind, yielding the spot at the head of the bed.

Gu Lianzhao took the cloth from Ling Ting’s hand and soaked it in the copper basin nearby. “How did he suddenly fall ill? What did Physician Wang say? Is it serious?”

Ling Ting replied, “The Master went out for a walk at noon, caught a chill, and started vomiting when he came back. Physician Wang said it’s nothing serious—just needs proper rest and care.”

Gu Lianzhao gave a soft murmur of acknowledgment and fell silent. He gently parted Liu Yuanxun’s hair, which was damp from the cloth, then brought his fingers together to check the temperature at his neck. “How long has he been asleep?”

Ling Ting answered, “He fell asleep as soon as he returned. He woke once in the middle but was too weak in spirit. He said a few words and fell asleep again.”

Their exchange of questions and answers resembled the ordinary conversation between a concubine and a guard. Gu Lianzhao keenly sensed the shift in Ling Ting’s attitude. After checking on Liu Yuanxun, he turned to look at Ling Ting.

Ever since Gu Lianzhao had sat down, Ling Ting had stood respectfully by the bed with his hands at his sides. His expression was calm, his demeanor even, as if he had already adjusted his mindset and now treated Gu Lianzhao no differently from an ordinary attendant consort.

Ling Ting noticed the scrutiny and met Gu Lianzhao’s gaze steadily, neither humble nor arrogant. “Since you’ve returned, I’ll take my leave. If the Master wakes, don’t let him fall back asleep right away. It’s about time for him to eat something and take his medicine.”

Gu Lianzhao acknowledged him. Only after Ling Ting had left the room did he turn back to gaze at Liu Yuanxun on the bed.

Liu Yuanxun had urged him to rest more at noon, yet now he lay here unconscious, his face haggard. With so many servants always attending him, how could he have caught a chill?

Gu Lianzhao slipped his hand under the covers and grasped Liu Yuanxun’s wrist. He was about to channel true qi into him but found the position awkward. Instead, he simply removed his boots and outer robe, climbed onto the bed, and drew Liu Yuanxun—blankets and all—into his arms.

At first, the position was uncomfortable. Liu Yuanxun’s eyelids fluttered, as if he might wake. But after Gu Lianzhao adjusted slightly, Liu Yuanxun settled with his head pillowed in the crook of Gu Lianzhao’s arm and drifted off again. His long lashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, and his handsome, gentle features revealed a vulnerability that tugged at the heart.

Gu Lianzhao half-reclined against the headboard in a position that allowed him easy access to Liu Yuanxun’s wrist. He placed two fingers there and used his true qi to smooth out the blockages in Liu Yuanxun’s inner breath.

Snow continued to fall outside. In the span of one afternoon, it had piled up past the height of a person’s ankles. Gu Lianzhao gazed at the swirling flakes beyond the window, but his thoughts lingered on the man in his arms.

In another seven or eight days, it would be Liu Yuanxun’s birthday. Once the birthday celebrations ended, the year would draw to a close. Less than half a month remained until their departure for Jiangnan on the second day of the new year.

Gu Lianzhao knew full well that this trip to Jiangnan presented the perfect opportunity for him to sever ties with Liu Yuanxun.

Since Liu Yuanxun had chosen to put himself in harm’s way—and regardless of who lurked behind it all—the journey to Jiangnan would undoubtedly carry immense risks.

The capital’s security was tight, Prince Rui’s Mansion was guarded by soldiers, and Hong Fu had even assigned two elite experts from the palace. No assassin could strike here. But out on the open road to Jiangnan, even with local garrisons providing escorts along the way, the dangers could not be underestimated.

If something happened to Liu Yuanxun, it would be Gu Lianzhao’s best chance to escape.

He knew Liu Yuanxun did not have much time left. Even if Liu Yuanxun had never said it outright, the signs showed in the details—perhaps without Liu Yuanxun even realizing it. He often spoke as if tying up loose ends.

The trip to Jiangnan would take at least two or three months, perhaps as long as half a year. Gu Lianzhao had never consummated their marriage, so Liu Yuanxun’s condition would only worsen. When they returned to the capital, as long as Hong Fu was not a fool, he would notice something amiss. Escaping would be far harder then.

If Gu Lianzhao wanted to survive, he had only two paths.

If Liu Yuanxun died by assassination, Gu Lianzhao could not be implicated no matter what. The advantage was that he might return to the Embroidered Uniform Guard. With all the secrets he had gathered over the years, many officials would support him. As long as the Emperor did not deliberately block him, his future would be bright. The drawback was the enormous risk: if the Emperor vented his anger, he might execute the entire retinue.

If Liu Yuanxun safely concluded the case, Gu Lianzhao would have to fake his death during the return journey. The advantage was absolute safety—he could vanish into the rivers and lakes and live freely once the fuss died down. The drawback was that years of scheming would go to waste; all his efforts would be for nothing.

Hong Fu had no idea that Gu Lianzhao had uncovered their true intentions. As long as he abandoned everything in the capital, he could guarantee his survival.

But abandoning it all was easier said than done! Having tasted fame and power, he could not resign himself to a life as an ordinary commoner!

To gamble or not—that question dominated his thoughts, pulling him between two extremes. Yet Liu Yuanxun occupied a place in between, tempting him to entertain a wild third possibility: was there a path that ensured his own safety while also preserving Liu Yuanxun’s life?

He remained silent for so long that he did not even notice when Liu Yuanxun woke. Only when the man in his arms stirred did he instinctively lower his gaze.

Liu Yuanxun nestled quietly against him, neither avoiding nor resisting. It was as if he had grown accustomed to Gu Lianzhao’s touch and warmth. Even awake, he simply lay there with his eyes open, watching Gu Lianzhao in silence. The dim glow of the setting sun lit his serene, clear eyes, their gentleness causing Gu Lianzhao’s heart to quiver faintly.

“When did you wake?” Gu Lianzhao asked.

Liu Yuanxun replied softly, “Not long ago.”

“Why didn’t you call out to me?” Gu Lianzhao pressed.

“You seemed lost in thought, so I didn’t disturb you.” Liu Yuanxun was not fully awake yet when he felt the warmth at his wrist. Upon opening his eyes and seeing Gu Lianzhao, he understood what was happening.

When Gu Lianzhao said nothing, Liu Yuanxun continued, “You and Ling Ting both seem preoccupied. The first time I woke, Ling Ting was lost in a daze. The second time, you were too.”

Gu Lianzhao’s heart stirred abruptly as a vague realization dawned. “Do you know what Physician Wang said when he came?”

Liu Yuanxun shook his head. “I was already asleep by then. I didn’t hear. Why?”

Gu Lianzhao did not hide it from him. “Physician Wang knows your condition well. He can tell if you’re improving or worsening. You haven’t changed to any special medicines lately. I fear Ling Ting will eventually figure out that I possess the Pure Yang Physique.”

At those words, Liu Yuanxun paused in faint surprise. “It’s not impossible.”

“Let him figure it out, then,” Liu Yuanxun sighed. “We can’t keep hiding it forever.”

But what then? Should he bluntly tell the Ling siblings, “He’s dying,” or continue the deception, letting them believe Liu Yuanxun had found a way to survive?

On the surface, Liu Yuanxun and he were husband and wife; in private, they were friends. Their bond was undoubtedly close, but they had never delved deeper.

At first, Gu Lianzhao had probed Liu Yuanxun’s illness to gather more information for his own schemes. But now, he sought a clue to that third path.

After a moment of contemplation, Gu Lianzhao decided to ask directly. “What’s really wrong with you? Can it be cured?”

Liu Yuanxun had not expected such bluntness. He hesitated for a long while before answering, “No, it’s incurable. I’m just hanging on.”

Even with his suspicions, hearing the confirmation from Liu Yuanxun’s own lips made Gu Lianzhao’s heart clench painfully. He frowned without thinking. “With so many divine physicians in Tianyong, what illness can’t be cured?”

The palace secrets ran too deep, and this one touched on Consort Mother’s reputation. Liu Yuanxun had long decided to take it to his grave. He would tell no one.

Even when Gu Lianzhao asked, he merely said softly, “A’Qiao, I don’t want to lie to you or make excuses. I even think you might have guessed the truth already. I truly don’t have much time left. It’s not an illness holding me back—it’s my fate.”

He lay quietly in Gu Lianzhao’s arms, his expression serene, his voice gentle, as if discussing someone utterly unrelated to himself. Yet that very tranquility pierced Gu Lianzhao’s heart like a dagger.

“If you don’t fight it, how do you know it’s truly the end…” Gu Lianzhao’s voice grew quieter with each word until the last ones were barely audible even to him.

Yes, Liu Yuanxun was not truly at a dead end. His path to survival lay with Gu Lianzhao himself. One life for another—that was his salvation.

“If—and I mean if,” Gu Lianzhao tightened his hold on the man in his arms. Through the blankets, Liu Yuanxun could not feel the force, only that Gu Lianzhao’s voice sounded strangely off, “if the price of your survival was to take another person’s life in exchange, would you do it?”

Before asking, Gu Lianzhao had known he was despicable. After saying it aloud, he felt revoltingly so.

When Liu Yuanxun lay there with eyes closed and silent, Gu Lianzhao had weighed the pros and cons with cold clarity, as if he could decisively cut all ties with Liu Yuanxun once he chose. But when Liu Yuanxun opened his eyes, looked at him, and spoke, Gu Lianzhao began to waver.

The longer he spent with Liu Yuanxun, the more fragile his resolve became—fragile enough that he needed to draw some support from Liu Yuanxun himself just to keep from losing his head.

He understood Liu Yuanxun and could guess his answer. He knew Liu Yuanxun would never agree to a “life for a life.”

But he had not expected that the moment he finished speaking, Liu Yuanxun would suddenly sit up and fix him with a rare, sharp gaze. “What do you mean? What do you mean by exchanging another person’s life for mine? What do you know?”

Gu Lianzhao was first stung by the chill in those eyes, but in the next instant, he seized upon a wealth of information.

Liu Yuanxun had said it was not illness but fate that bound him. As a prince, who besides the Emperor could decide his fate? And why such a strong reaction to “one life for another”? Liu Yuanxun kept few close to him. The Ling siblings were servants. Beyond them, the only connections were the Emperor in the palace and Consort Dowager.