Chapter 28

Liu Yuanxun’s illness came on suddenly and passed just as quickly. After resting in the warm room for only two days, his body had already improved.

At the same time, Gu Lianzhao’s Virginity Mark had completely vanished. Yet they couldn’t let him report for duty just like that.

Liu Yuanxun had been bedridden for days. Though not exactly impotent, he absolutely couldn’t bring his sickly body to consummate the marriage with Gu Lianzhao. Hong Fu didn’t need to give it much thought to realize the deed had been faked.

“Wait until my body’s better…” Liu Yuanxun was a man, after all, and saying such things to a ger left him unavoidably awkward. But the words had to be said, so he steeled himself and continued, “Then you can go on duty.”

Gu Lianzhao nodded. He leaned against the window, quietly watching him, then suddenly asked, “Will Your Highness slip up?”

“What?” Liu Yuanxun didn’t catch on. “Slip up on what?”

The afternoon sun blazed brightly, but Gu Lianzhao stood with his back to the light, his expression impossible to discern. Only his calm voice carried through. “I noticed Your Highness keeps a pure household and reads only the classics of sages and worthies. So I must ask boldly: Does Your Highness know how to consummate a marriage?”

“Ahem… cough cough…” Liu Yuanxun choked, coughing so hard his whole body shook. Gu Lianzhao seemed to learn his lesson this time and didn’t just stand by. He walked over, raising a hand to pat Liu Yuanxun’s back and help him catch his breath.

But that earlier question had left Liu Yuanxun embarrassed. The moment Gu Lianzhao reached out, Liu Yuanxun tried to push his hand away. He didn’t succeed—instead, Gu Lianzhao seized his fingers and held his hand fast.

“Don’t rush. Catch your breath first, then we’ll talk.”

One hand clasped Liu Yuanxun’s, the other gently patted and stroked his back. His tone wasn’t exactly soft, but compared to his usual cold brusqueness, it felt almost tender.

Liu Yuanxun’s ears burned crimson. He couldn’t tell if it was from the choking or from Gu Lianzhao’s bluntness.

When the coughing finally subsided, Liu Yuanxun yanked his hand back in a fluster. Gu Lianzhao released it without resistance, making Liu Yuanxun seem overly dramatic.

Gu Lianzhao circled back to the window, putting some distance between them. His tone turned matter-of-fact, all business. “If Eunuch Hong learns that Your Highness and I have consummated our marriage, he’ll surely probe with words. If Your Highness doesn’t understand the details, it could give us away.”

“I…” Liu Yuanxun faltered, at a loss for words. Deep down, though, he knew Gu Lianzhao’s concern was valid. He could only murmur, “I’ll find a book to read.”

“That’s good.” Gu Lianzhao nodded slightly, then tossed out another question. “If Eunuch Hong asks why Your Highness suddenly decided to consummate the marriage, do you have an answer ready?”

Eunuch Hong probably wouldn’t ask something so personal, would he?

By rights, Eunuch Hong had enough tact not to pry into such intimate matters. But considering how much the Emperor cared about whether they’d consummated, Liu Yuanxun wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Speaking of which,” Gu Lianzhao said, watching his expression closely as he probed slowly, “Eunuch Hong seems awfully concerned about whether Your Highness has consummated. Is there some special custom behind it?”

Liu Yuanxun shook his head, his confusion genuine. “I find it strange too.”

He didn’t understand why the Emperor had suddenly granted this marriage, nor why he’d forced them to consummate it. The Emperor claimed it was to secure an heir for him. But if heirs were the goal, why grant him a ger who struggled to conceive?

“If Your Highness doesn’t mind,” Gu Lianzhao said, “why not tell me about it?”

On this matter, he and Gu Lianzhao were in the same boat. Sharing information harmed neither.

Liu Yuanxun nodded. “Of course not.”

But it was complicated. Where to even begin?

As if reading his mind, Gu Lianzhao picked up the thread the moment he hesitated. “Ling Qing mentioned that your recent grave illness stemmed from asking the Emperor about resuming your duties. Would Your Highness care to tell me the details?”

Liu Yuanxun still felt uneasy recalling the beating he’d taken. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know why Imperial Brother suddenly granted the marriage or pushed us to consummate it. But I do know that once he gets angry with me, he washes his hands of my affairs. So I deliberately said some things to provoke him.”

“It worked out as I’d expected. He backed off and stopped meddling in our business. Whether we consummate or not, and whether I resume duties or not—he stopped caring. But after my brush with death, I heard from you about Eunuch Hong’s message. That’s what struck me as odd…”

Gu Lianzhao pressed, “What exactly did you say to the Emperor?”

That you were a murderer soaked in blood…

That marrying you into the princely estate was a deliberate humiliation…

Liu Yuanxun blinked to steady himself, then said guiltily, “Nothing much. Just some words the Emperor wouldn’t want to hear.”

It wasn’t a lie. Though aimed at insulting Gu Lianzhao, the barbs were truly meant to stab at the Emperor’s heart.

…

The winter of Liu Yuanxun’s birth brought no snow to Tianyong.

Winter snows ruined the next year’s harvest for the common folk, and their absence was seen as heaven’s rebuke to the Emperor. That winter, the air in the Imperial City hung heavier than ever. The people cowered in fear, and even the usually wise Late Emperor lost his composure.

Miraculously, with Liu Yuanxun’s first cry from the swaddling cloths, snow began to fall. It poured for three straight days, resolving the Emperor’s dire straits. Still an infant, Liu Yuanxun was granted his princely title: Prince Rui.

Because he bore such an auspicious omen, the Late Emperor favored him above all other sons. That excessive love became a thorn in the hearts of his brothers.

Aside from Imperial Brother, all his siblings envied him and schemed against him endlessly. By lumping Imperial Brother in with the rest, and claiming the marriage was granted out of resentment for the Late Emperor’s favoritism, Liu Yuanxun knew it would disappoint and enrage him.

And so, in his anger, Imperial Brother stopped caring.

But Liu Yuanxun’s insight into Liu Yuanze went only that far. Beyond it, he couldn’t guess.

With that thought, Liu Yuanxun sighed with genuine feeling. “Ever since Imperial Brother became Emperor, his thoughts have grown harder and harder to fathom.”

The complaint carried an undercurrent of closeness and trust.

Just from those words, their bond did seem like the rumors said: “closer than blood brothers from the same womb.”

Gu Lianzhao made no comment and asked another question. “On the day of the ancestral rites, what did your father say to you?”

“Oh, that day…” Liu Yuanxun pretended to rack his brains. “I don’t remember clearly. Something about how you’d suffered a lot as a child, and to treat you well. And that you lived up to your name—a pure soul emerging unstained from the mud…”

Meeting Gu Lianzhao’s strangely piercing gaze, Liu Yuanxun solemnly changed tack. “Of course, you’d never believe me. But the truth’s not pleasant. Better you don’t know.”

Even without Liu Yuanxun saying it, Gu Lianzhao could guess that old fox Gu Mingyuan never said anything nice. What surprised him was that Liu Yuanxun would cover for him—and even more, cover for Gu Mingyuan.

Why?

Afraid he’d be hurt by his own father’s vile nature?

Liu Yuanxun met his eyes and suddenly said, “Are you laughing at me in your heart?”

Gu Lianzhao paused, then denied it. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Liar.

Liu Yuanxun grumbled inwardly: He clearly scorns it, yet he hides it.

But he didn’t call him out or get angry. He wasn’t covering for Gu Mingyuan to spare Gu Lianzhao’s feelings—he simply couldn’t bring himself to repeat it.

Even if Gu Mingyuan, wearing the mask of a father, had said such things, Liu Yuanxun couldn’t voice them. Was he supposed to say: Your father claims that at just thirteen, to climb the social ladder, you followed a minister into the privy and served him while he relieved himself?

Liu Yuanxun didn’t know if it was true, nor did he care about the facts. He just found Gu Mingyuan’s attitude—treating it like leverage—utterly repulsive.

Thinking of Gu Mingyuan soured his expression.

After his “I wouldn’t dare,” Gu Lianzhao had been subtly observing him. Seeing the displeasure in his eyes, he assumed Liu Yuanxun was angry at him. Regret washed over him.

Regret for letting his expression slip.

But he didn’t want a misunderstanding.

“I only thought of my father and found it ironic. That’s all.” Gu Lianzhao pressed his lips together, lowered his gaze, and cupped his hands. “Please don’t take offense, Your Highness.”

Liu Yuanxun hadn’t expected the explanation. After a brief daze, he smiled faintly. “I’m not offended. Every fault lies with Gu Mingyuan. Let’s not speak of him.”

Perhaps Liu Yuanxun’s actions these past days had given him some confidence, or maybe it was the clear favoritism in his words. Either way, Gu Lianzhao’s heart skipped a beat, and the words tumbled out. “He told you so much, yet you believe me?”

Liu Yuanxun blinked.

It wasn’t about believing one over the other. This had nothing to do with him. Fake marriage or real, as long as Gu Lianzhao hadn’t broken any laws, his past was his own affair.

Explaining that would be simple.

But under those focused, clear eyes, he sensed some expectation in Gu Lianzhao—like the answer truly mattered.

His somewhat detached explanation stuck in his throat.

He blinked, flashing a smile. “I have no ties to Gu Mingyuan, but I’ve shared a month with you. Naturally, I believe you.”

He rarely lied, and it left him uncomfortable. He changed the subject. “Gu Mingyuan said you had no name before age ten. What did others call you?”

Gu Lianzhao saw through his evasion. The warmth that had just stirred in his chest cooled instantly. But his face betrayed nothing. “A’Qiao. That’s what my mother called me.”

“A’Qiao? Which qiao?”

“The qiao from ‘qiao yue,’ towering mountains.” He turned to the window, seizing an excuse. “It’s about time. Your Highness should rest. I’ll go train.”

Without waiting for a reply, he cupped his hands in salute and strode out without looking back.

His steps hurried, his demeanor aloof. He observed every courtesy, yet Liu Yuanxun felt him deliberately pulling away.

What was that about?

Liu Yuanxun stared at his retreating back, bewilderment plain on his face.

…

Ling Ting entered with the medicine just as Gu Lianzhao was leaving. He lowered his eyes in silence and stepped aside.

But Gu Lianzhao didn’t leave. He stood in the doorway, suddenly snapping awake. A chill crept up his spine, turning his blood cold.

He could hardly believe that the petulant figure who’d stormed off over a few words was himself. He dared not examine whether his irritation stemmed from mere impulse or from the disarray sown by Liu Yuanxun’s casual kindness…

He shouldn’t act like this. He couldn’t.

Whether Liu Yuanxun believed him mattered not at all. His path to glory depended entirely on Liu Yuanxun. He ought to serve him, curry his favor—like he did with Gu Mingyuan and Liu Xun. No reason to distance himself over trifles.

With that, he drew a deep breath, shoving down the inscrutable feelings in his chest. He reached for the medicine bowl in Ling Ting’s hands. “Let me take it.”

Ling Ting didn’t release his grip, merely lifting his eyes to meet Gu Lianzhao’s gaze. “What is the meaning of this, Lord Gu?”

Ever since that day when doubts had first taken root, every one of Ling Ting’s actions had taken on a suspicious tint in Gu Lianzhao’s eyes. He arched an eyebrow and shot back, “Am I not Your Highness’s Attendant Consort? This is exactly what I should be doing.”

Ling Ting replied flatly, “There are few servants in the residence, and Your Highness pays no mind to such empty courtesies. Lord Gu needn’t cling to a hollow title—these tasks are mine to handle.”

Empty courtesies. Hollow title.

Gu Lianzhao let out a scoff. He hadn’t realized it before, but Ling Ting had his position pegged with crystal clarity.

He was a man with a rebellious bone in his body by nature. When circumstances forced his hand, he’d crouch low and play meek, but now… he was feeding this medicine come hell or high water.

“Empty courtesies are still courtesies, and hollow titles are still titles. We can’t have the servants slacking off just because Your Highness doesn’t stand on ceremony.” Gu Lianzhao tightened his grip on the bowl, sending ripples through the medicine inside. Fearing a spill, Ling Ting had no choice but to let go first.

Gu Lianzhao hooked his lips in a smile that never reached his eyes, his voice chill as frost. “My thanks for yielding.”

He started toward the room with the medicine, but Ling Ting laid a hand on his shoulder, channeling internal force beneath the surface. “Lord Gu, Your Highness’s medicine isn’t a toy for us to squabble over. If you’re still angry about my striking you in court that day, take a palm strike from me as apology. No need to bicker over these trifles.”

“Squabble?” Gu Lianzhao offered no resistance, only chuckling with lazy indifference. “Lord Ling’s loyalty to Your Highness runs deep. Drawing a guardsman’s pay, yet set on monopolizing the inner household too? What’s the matter—guard wages too thin? Eyeing a second income?”

Ling Ting’s face shifted, the flicker of panic in his chest brutally quashed. But guilt gnawed at him, sapping his will to press the point with Gu Lianzhao. All he could do was concede. “If Lord Gu wishes to attend Your Highness, then it’s all to the good. After you.”

Gu Lianzhao had seized the medicine bowl, but it did nothing to lift his spirits.

Inside the room, Liu Yuanxun wore a blank look. He glanced first at the bowl in Gu Lianzhao’s hand, then craned his neck to peer at the empty space behind him. “Where’s Ling Ting?”

Gu Lianzhao’s mood plunged further. He began to regret his own foolishness. But the bowl was in his hands now—he could hardly set it down and summon Ling Ting back, could he?

Masking the irritation in his eyes, he replied, “Eunuch Hong has charged me time and again to look after Your Highness properly. If I shun such duties day-to-day, I’ll fumble when facing him and risk arousing suspicion. These are mere trifles; by trading off with Lord Ling, he’ll have less to worry about.”

Fine words, soundly reasoned. Liu Yuanxun sensed the awkwardness but could unearth no grounds for refusal. Absent Eunuch Hong’s watchful eye, he might have brushed it off outright—declaring his habit of Ling Ting’s service and aversion to other attendants. But Eunuch Hong changed the equation; he had to weigh Gu Lianzhao’s standing.

The memory of Gu Lianzhao’s earlier icy demeanor lingered, prompting an extra question as he swallowed the bitter draught. “Were you… upset just now?”

Gu Lianzhao had scraped and clawed his way through the years, honing the knack of telling saints one tale and demons another. Liu Yuanxun’s query left him unruffled; he deftly nudged the talk toward safer ground.

“Since my mother’s death, no one’s uttered that name. Hearing it out of the blue stirred old shadows—pray don’t take it amiss, Your Highness.”

Pity stirred in Liu Yuanxun’s heart. “A’Qiao’s a fine name, rich with meaning. Your mother must have chosen it with utmost care.”

Yes. When she’d bestowed that name, his mother still harbored dreams of Gu Mingyuan whisking her to the capital. Thus she loved him, spoiled him, cradled him close. Later, upon grasping the deceit, her life lay in ruins.

She loathed Gu Mingyuan for shattering it even as she nursed a pathetic hope that he’d one day make her his. In her fondest moments, she’d clasp him tight, praising Lord Gu as a noble gentleman undone by the misfortune of a shrewish wife. In her bitterest, she’d jab him with needles till blood beaded across his skin, damning Gu Mingyuan as a liar and his spouse a harlot.

Whichever passion ruled her, the refrain was ever the same: “A’Qiao, A’Qiao… you’re nothing but a wretched spawn.”

Gu Lianzhao despised the name to his marrow, yet he buried the venom and curved his lips in a gentle smile. “Your Highness… might you choose another form of address?”

Liu Yuanxun had drained the bowl. With no Ling Ting to hand him a cup, he fetched one himself for rinsing, mouth already full of water and words impossible. He blinked instead, quizzical.

Another form? Which?

“Please, Your Highness—call me A’Qiao. Since others see us as a true wedded pair, ‘Gu Jiu’ hardly fits.”

Liu Yuanxun paused, then his lips parted in a soft smile. His voice warm as spring waters, he murmured, “A’Qiao.”

That single word washed over Gu Lianzhao like silk, its timbre soothing and sweet, dazing him for a spell. Only after a long moment did he murmur back in kind.

Not bad at all.

Each utterance of “A’Qiao” dragged him back to those sunless days of despair and isolation.

If Liu Yuanxun called him so every day, it would serve as ceaseless warning: never to melt beneath that fatal blade of tenderness, but to clutch power with iron resolve.