Chapter 20: The Beautiful Empress

A blizzard raged.

Lin Jianxi felt weaker than he ever had, each step sinking deep footprints into the snow.

The frigid air wrapped around him, making every breath a struggle.

He was draped in a long robe trimmed with white fox fur at the neck. His chin nestled into the soft fur as he spoke, his words emerging in a steady stream of white vapor.

“How much farther?”

“Fifty meters, under the tree,” the System replied.

This marked Lin Jianxi’s first year in this world. In the book he had transmigrated into, the role he played was that of the empress to the sovereign of the realm’s most powerful nation.

Lin Jianxi gazed at his reflection in the icy surface—youthful and strikingly beautiful.

Beautiful was the word for it. He was young now, barely into his twenties, his features so exquisitely refined they might have belonged to a demon who had cultivated human form. And that was precisely the persona he embodied: a vain empress who adored beautiful men, whose mind was as simple as it was impulsive, driven by an insatiable lust.

But there was more to it than that.

Lin Jianxi tilted his head back and took a long swig of wine. The System chuckled merrily. “Must be driving you crazy, huh? No wine or smokes in the palace, just sneaking a little while out foraging for herbs. Being the Mute Doctor has its upsides in that regard, doesn’t it~?”

He was the renowned Mute Doctor, his medical skills unmatched. Family tradition forbade him from revealing his identity freely, so no one in the palace knew who he truly was.

“Warm yourself up.”

With that, Lin Jianxi bent down and drew a small knife from his bundle. His pale fingertips pinched a nondescript blade of grass, and he sliced it free with care.

“Watch out!”

An arrow whistled from nowhere, embedding itself in the tree trunk directly above his head. Lin Jianxi’s hand jerked, and the knife nicked his fingertip—not too deep, but enough to draw blood that spattered into the snow like blooming plum blossoms.

Lin Jianxi rose to his feet. “What was that?”

In the distance, beneath a tree, he spotted a dark shadow—something sizable. A black boar? Who would be hunting in weather like this?

“War’s broken out nearby—your nation’s forces,” the System said. “Someone’s wounded and hiding here… Wait, according to the plot… isn’t that the protagonist?”

“…”

Lin Jianxi paused, then retrieved his mask and a pair of unusually thick little pads.

The System sounded puzzled. “The mask keeps the protagonist from recognizing you, but what are these pads for…?”

Lin Jianxi settled onto a rock and began unlacing his boots, arching a brow. “Height-boosting insoles.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi explained, “I’ll be completely covered, and my height will be different too. The protagonist won’t connect me to the empress. Double insurance against mission failure.”

This world’s protagonist had a tragic life of his own. Born to imperial blood, he was overshadowed by parents who doted on his younger brother. That brother, spoiled rotten, had bullied him mercilessly since childhood—riding him like a horse, treating him like a eunuch, even once sneering, “Why don’t you just cut that thing off down there? I’ll make you head eunuch of the palace.”

Lin Jianxi hadn’t laid eyes on the protagonist since arriving in this world.

He was curious what the man looked like.

“The bloody pulp under the tree ahead is the protagonist,” the System said.

“…”

So it wasn’t a dead wild boar after all.

“Bloody pulp” was a brutal description, but Lin Jianxi reasoned that since the protagonist wouldn’t recognize him, he could play the part of the Mute Doctor and offer aid. With that, he headed toward the tree.

There sat the protagonist, clad all in black. Bloodstains were hard to make out against the dark fabric, but the metallic tang hung heavy in the air. The snow at his feet was stained crimson. He slumped against the trunk, barely clinging to life, clutching a long sword to his chest. His fingertips trailed over the scabbard; he closed his eyes, then gritted his teeth against the pain and tore strips of ragged cloth from his clothes to bind his wounds.

This was the protagonist—Lin Xiaoye.

Blood smeared his face, but his features were unmistakably refined.

Lin Xiaoye was binding his injuries, teeth clenched on one end of the cloth as he yanked it tight to staunch the bleeding.

Drawing on his medical knowledge from memory, Lin Jianxi could tell the young man had reached his physical limits. He was merely holding on through sheer will.

Lin Xiaoye glanced at him, looked away—then snapped his gaze back.

The youth froze in place.

“You…” His voice was hoarse. “Are you… the Mute Doctor?”

Lin Jianxi said nothing, stepping forward to knock him unconscious. But Lin Xiaoye seized his wrist first. Lin Jianxi let out a soft chuckle—

No one could follow the motion. His hand blurred like a phantom, slipping a pill between Lin Xiaoye’s lips before patting his cheek. The protagonist swallowed it without realizing.

It was an ancestral remedy—a true miracle drug that could snatch life from the jaws of death.

Vitality surged back into Lin Xiaoye. He blinked in stunned surprise and turned to Lin Jianxi.

“Follow me,” Lin Jianxi said.

He moved at an unhurried pace, a faint fragrance trailing in his wake. Lin Xiaoye stumbled after him, half-wondering if he had died and ascended to the heavens. Was this ethereal figure before him a god? He looked just like the legendary Mute Doctor in his garb… but the Mute Doctor was mute by name and nature—he didn’t speak.

Yet this man did.

And his voice was beautiful.

Lin Xiaoye staggered along in Lin Jianxi’s footsteps.

Once inside a cave, Lin Jianxi sank onto a rock, leaning wearily against the wall with half-lidded eyes.

Lin Xiaoye stood nearby, his tone respectful. “Who might you be…?”

“Quiet,” Lin Jianxi said.

“…”

“Rest here for half an hour, then you can go.”

Lin Xiaoye settled beside him.

And stared, curiosity alight in his eyes.

Outside, the blizzard howled. Lin Xiaoye was dressed too thinly for the cold, and a shiver finally overtook him. Lin Jianxi sighed softly, stepped forward, and drew the young man into his arms.

He produced a handkerchief and tied it gently around the still-bleeding wound.

His touch was tender. Lin Xiaoye gazed at him in a daze, blurting out, “You smell so good. Is that a sleep-aid sachet?”

Lin Jianxi didn’t reply. Instead, he asked, “How old are you?”

The boy’s face looked so young.

“Seventeen.”

“…” Ah, right—people in ancient times married young. Lin Jianxi had assumed the emperor’s elder brother would be much older, but the revelation still shook him.

He thought of the child back home, still wrapped in swaddling clothes, who loved to doze off gnawing on his fingertips. This was his first child of his own, and ever since, his heart had grown all the softer toward little ones.

Lin Jianxi gazed at Lin Xiaoye’s bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair, signs that he hadn’t slept well in ages. He lowered his gaze, his eyes deep with emotion, and gently brushed his fingertips over Lin Xiaoye’s brow. “Sleep easy,” he murmured softly.

They were too close.

Lin Xiaoye caught another scent on Lin Jianxi beyond the fragrance—a familiar one he’d smelled on his wet nurse as a child.

In a daze, Lin Xiaoye asked, “You… have a child?”

Lin Jianxi covered his eyes. “No talking at meals, no talking in bed.”

“But I can’t sleep.” Lin Xiaoye struggled free from his arms, rose, and bowed deeply. “Immortal, thank you, but I came here to catch a traitor. Because of him, all our warriors are wounded. Leaving him loose harms the nation—he must be brought back for questioning.”

With that, he clutched his sword like a cherished treasure.

“Unfortunately, this is the only thing I have on me. It’s a gift from my master; I can’t give it to you. If you could wait here for my return? I swear I’ll come back and repay you.”

~~~

Lin Jianxi resumed gathering herbs.

He seldom had the chance to leave the palace and needed to return before dawn tomorrow, with pressing duties awaiting.

He’d spent the whole day foraging, and now night had fallen. The mountains were unsafe after dark, so he turned back toward the cave. Then, abruptly, a thick stench of blood hit him again.

Had the protagonist been hurt once more?

Lin Jianxi followed the smell and found Lin Xiaoye kneeling on the ground, cradling an elderly man in similar attire—a fellow warrior from their nation, Lin Jianxi realized.

Lin Xiaoye looked furious. “Why betray your country? Do you have any idea how many were injured?”

The old man chuckled coldly. “Of course I know. I saw it all.”

“…” Lin Xiaoye bowed his head and bandaged the wound with care, his voice shaking. “I know. You’re too good for this—someone must have forced you, right? I won’t tell a soul. We’ll go home together—”

“Lin Xiaoye.” The old man interrupted. “I betrayed the country.”

“…The wound’s too deep. Hold on—I met someone today who—”

“I betrayed the country. I turned my back on the nation. No threats, no coercion. I chose it.”

“…” Lin Xiaoye’s hands froze.

The old man chuckled again. “This country’s not worth it. Not worth a damn—that emperor, that empress… I’m not bothering with some birthday celebration for the empress. Not worth it…”

He raised a hand and tweaked Lin Xiaoye’s nose. “Take my body back. It’ll earn you merit.”

“…No… don’t…”

Lin Xiaoye frantically wiped the blood trickling from the old man’s mouth. “Don’t do this, Master… please…”

“…”

“…………”

Silence.

Even from a distance, Lin Jianxi could tell the old man had swallowed poison. There was no saving him; he’d already crossed to the other side.

“Master,” Lin Xiaoye whispered.

“Master…”

Lin Jianxi closed his eyes with a sigh and stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s find a fitting resting place. What did he love in life?”

Lin Xiaoye didn’t answer. He sat there numbly, clutching the body. “He’s really dead?”

“He’s really dead?”

“He’s really dead,” Lin Xiaoye said suddenly.

The words broke him. He collapsed into wrenching sobs, raw and bloodcurdling, his heart shattering.

“Without you… who’ll ever be kind to me…”

Lin Jianxi had never witnessed such raw grief. Standing nearby, he felt tears well up in his own eyes.

Lin Xiaoye cried himself unconscious.

Lin Jianxi removed his mask, brushed away his tears, and cradled the youth in his arms.

Snowflakes drifted down, settling on the battered sword.

As if veiling the old man’s passing.

~~~

Lin Xiaoye drifted in and out of sleep, waking only to ask, “He’s really dead?”

Lin Jianxi stayed silent.

Lin Xiaoye would retreat to a corner of the cave, staring blankly, unblinking.

It tore at Lin Jianxi’s heart. He approached and pressed a sachet into Lin Xiaoye’s hand.

Lin Xiaoye looked up at him.

“I don’t have much on me right now,” Lin Jianxi said. “Take this for now. It calms the spirit. Get some proper rest, alright?”

“…” No reply.

Lin Jianxi took his hand, his thumb gently stroking the palm. “If you’ll let me, I’ll love you. You were right—I am that person. Aside from my family, you’re the only one who knows I can speak. Our little secret. You’ll trust me, won’t you?”

Lin Xiaoye hesitated, then flung himself into Lin Jianxi’s arms, sobbing into his chest.

Lin Jianxi patted his back. “Sleep now. Tomorrow’s a fresh start.”

~~~

At dawn, Lin Jianxi produced a comb from somewhere and tamed Lin Xiaoye’s hair, wild as tangled weeds.

To care for his own child properly, he’d studied ancient hairstyles. He styled Lin Xiaoye’s locks neatly and elegantly, then plucked a hairpin from his own head—adorned with a tinkling bell—and secured it in place. It chimed with every movement or turn of the head.

Adorably so.

Lin Xiaoye didn’t want him to go and blocked the entrance. “I… I’m still not feeling right.”

Lin Jianxi said nothing.

After a moment’s thought, Lin Xiaoye ventured, “I’ll catch you a rabbit.”

“Not heading home?”

Lin Xiaoye shook his head. The bell jingled. Finding it endearing, Lin Jianxi relented. “Alright, go catch one.”

The rabbit returned in Lin Jianxi’s arms, its snowy fur blending seamlessly with his robe. He stroked its quivering form, his fingertips flushed pink. The serene picture left Lin Xiaoye too sheepish to roast it; he squatted nearby, crestfallen.

Lin Jianxi noticed he looked on the verge of tears.

He settled on a rock outside the cave. Half an hour later, a carrier pigeon swooped in from the distance, a red cord tied around its neck.

Lin Jianxi set it before Lin Xiaoye. “Send it back with you. Write to me whenever you like.”

Lin Xiaoye’s eyes widened.

Lin Jianxi unwound the red cord strung with copper coins from his own wrist and fastened it on Lin Xiaoye’s.

“From the Prayer Blessing Tree. It’ll keep you safe.”

He spoke slowly.

~~~

The palace blazed with lanterns and colorful banners, alive with revelry and cheer.

Ministers clinked goblets in toasts, while dancers whirled in performance, every gesture and glance a bid to curry the emperor’s favor.

Lin Jianxi’s ears were filled with congratulations from men and women alike. He smiled gently, responding earnestly to every one. The Emperor had his arm around him, their posture intimate. “Are you satisfied with this birthday banquet?”

Lin Jianxi leaned in to kiss the Emperor’s cheek. “Very satisfied.”

It hadn’t been long since he’d given birth, and his body was still frail. After showing his face to a few people, he returned to the Sleeping Palace.

He changed into light, comfortable clothes and went to tease the child on the bed. The baby opened his big, dark eyes and cooed softly. Lin Jianxi’s heart melted into a puddle. He pressed his nose tip to the child’s, chuckling softly.

Time spent with the baby always flew by. Before he knew it, noon had arrived. A palace maid came to inform him that the Emperor was asking for him. Lin Jianxi threw on a robe and stepped outside. In the distance, he spotted a great many horses, with warriors standing in front of them, seemingly reporting something to the Emperor.

Lin Jianxi noticed Lin Xiaoye among the group—and not just anywhere, but at the front. He had even more new wounds on him, his hair disheveled. When he looked at the Emperor, the corners of his mouth curved up, but the amusement in his eyes was icy cold.

Yet on his hand, he still wore the handkerchief and red cord. He’d even washed the handkerchief carefully; the bloodstains from its first use had faded to almost nothing.

“…”

It was bitterly cold outside now, with the water frozen solid. Washing a handkerchief in the river was out of the question. Lin Jianxi pictured Lin Xiaoye laboriously melting snow, breath fogging the air as he rubbed at the cloth with reddened hands, scrubbing diligently. He couldn’t help but want to laugh.

He held it back.

Lin Jianxi walked forward and hugged the Emperor’s arm without a care for the occasion, tilting his head up. “What do you want me for? Hm?”

His coquettish demeanor silenced everyone present. The Emperor beamed with delight and nuzzled his face like an eager puppy. “They’ve returned victorious. I’m thrilled—wanted you to see them too.”

Lin Jianxi glanced at the group, and his breath caught.

They were all covered head to toe in blood. They’d just served the kingdom, yet at this moment, they weren’t even allowed a moment’s rest to tend their wounds. Instead, they had to stand there ramrod straight, watching deferentially as he and the Emperor stood before them in their splendid finery, appraising them like objects on display.

They even had to force smiles and wish the Empress a happy birthday.

Behind the warriors rang the laughter and chatter of the imperial clan—a jarring contrast.

“…”

He recalled what the old man had said.

Not worth it.

Lin Jianxi sighed and closed his eyes briefly before kissing the Emperor on the mouth. “I don’t want to look… It’s cold lately. Come sleep with me. Let them rest.”

He hadn’t even used an honorific.

The Emperor’s eyes went wide in stunned delight. “Alright… alright, I’ll come with you right now.”

Without another thought for the warriors left standing there, he scooped Lin Jianxi up and headed back to the Sleeping Palace.

With the motion, the little bell on Lin Jianxi’s ankle—meant to add a playful touch to their intimacy—slipped into view.

Lin Jianxi tugged at the Emperor’s hair. “It’s showing…”

“No one would dare look.” The Emperor paused, then grinned as an idea struck him. “Things are so chaotic right now. I’m a bit scared. These men are strong fighters—have one guard the door.”

“…”

An uneasy premonition stirred in Lin Jianxi’s heart.

He pressed his cheek to the Emperor’s, his gaze falling on Lin Xiaoye. The man looked utterly scornful, as if he wanted nothing more than to draw his blade and cut down the dog of a couple right then and there.

His features were strikingly handsome, giving him the air of a rakish scoundrel with a hint of roguish charm. But the overwhelming hatred and murderous intent that flickered in his eyes warned against underestimating him.

Even amid that filthy, bloodied crowd, he somehow stood out, dazzling.

The Emperor crooked a finger, beckoning him over like a dog. “Bro, come guard the door.”