Chapter 35

The sedan from the prince’s mansion had just come to a stop when Gu Lianzhao casually helped Liu Yuanxun down.

By the time Ling Ting received word from the servants, Gu Lianzhao was already supporting Liu Yuanxun as they made their way into the central courtyard.

In just one night, the relationship between the two men seemed to have grown even closer. Gu Lianzhao murmured something that drew a smile from Liu Yuanxun, a faint intimacy shining in his eyes.

That kind of gaze had only ever appeared before when Liu Yuanxun looked at Ling Qing.

Ling Ting’s steps faltered, a sudden timidity gripping him. He had served Liu Yuanxun for so many years, yet this was the first time he had seen his master right in front of him and not dared to approach.

It was Gu Lianzhao who spotted him first.

He glanced over from a distance, then said something to Liu Yuanxun. Only then did Liu Yuanxun look up.

Separated by more than ten meters, Ling Ting felt as if he and those two had been divided into opposing camps. Liu Yuanxun saw him and merely smiled—no beckoning, no other acknowledgment. Instead, he continued chatting away with Gu Lianzhao.

Liu Yuanxun was clearly walking straight toward him, but Ling Ting felt as though the distance between them was only growing.

Ten meters. Seven meters. Three meters…

As they drew nearer, Ling Ting noticed the red marks on Liu Yuanxun’s neck.

The marks were so suggestive, so unmistakable. Anyone with experience in matters of the flesh would know exactly what they meant.

In that instant, Ling Ting suddenly convinced himself he must still be dreaming, that he hadn’t woken up yet and everything he was seeing was an illusion. It had to be because he was still stewing over Liu Yuanxun taking Gu Lianzhao into the palace without him—that was why he was having such an absurd dream.

But the chill wind whispering past his ear and Ling Qing’s noisy chatter at his side served as harsh reminders that it was all too real.

The moment that truth sank in, all strength drained from his body, as if his very spine had been yanked out. A mere breeze could have knocked him over.

He had served Liu Yuanxun for so many years, but this was the first time he had laid eyes on him and not dared to step forward. His fingertips trembled inside his sleeves, and his chest felt soaked in vinegar—swollen and sour.

Instinctively, Ling Ting looked toward Gu Lianzhao, searching his face for some clue. But Gu Lianzhao kept his eyes lowered the entire time, half-supporting Liu Yuanxun with perfect naturalness in the spot that had always belonged to Ling Ting himself. He never once raised his gaze.

Ling Qing lacked her brother’s delicate perceptiveness. The instant she spotted Liu Yuanxun, she let out a joyful cry and darted to his side like a lively butterfly, chattering excitedly. “Master! Master! I don’t want to raise a dog anymore—I want a horse! I heard some Mongolians showed up at the Horse Market with a bunch of little foals! Master, I really, really want a horse!”

Ling Qing had a restless temperament. Raising a dog might have been a passing fancy, but she was always dashing out of the mansion, so a good horse would certainly make things more convenient.

Liu Yuanxun agreed readily. “Very well. When do you want to go?”

“I wanted to go yesterday.” Ling Ting drew a deep breath and forced a smile, stepping forward two paces to close the gap with Liu Yuanxun.

The stone path was narrow enough that three people standing abreast was already a squeeze. With Ling Ting’s approach, someone would have to give way.

But no sooner had he assumed this near-provocative stance than Ling Ting regretted it. He retreated timidly toward Ling Qing’s side, then fell half a step behind, trailing after Liu Yuanxun.

Neither Liu Yuanxun nor Ling Qing noticed a thing. But Gu Lianzhao and Ling Ting, right at the eye of the storm, were keenly aware of that silent clash.

One had declared war, only to back down in cowardice.

The other claimed victory without even raising a hand.

Gu Lianzhao betrayed no reaction at all, utterly calm as if nothing had transpired. Ling Ting, struggling to hold his composure, picked up from where he’d left off. “Mongolian horses are pricey, and she didn’t have the money—that’s why it’s dragged on till today. She figured she’d borrow some silver from you, Master.”

“I have money!” Ling Qing hurried to correct him. “I’ve been saving up! But that horse costs way too much—a little foal goes for sixty taels of silver! If it weren’t so gorgeous, I wouldn’t even consider it!”

Ling Qing received ten taels of silver each month, plus the occasional bits of pocket money from Liu Yuanxun—thirteen or fourteen taels in all. But she had a habit of splurging on all sorts of strange, useless knickknacks, so she could only scrape together one or two taels of savings a month. Sixty taels was no small sum for her.

Liu Yuanxun smiled at her. “Winter Solstice has passed, and the twelfth month is upon us. Aren’t you born on the Laba Sixth? I’ve been wondering what to get you. Since you’ve found something you like, there’s no need to fuss. No time like the present—tomorrow at first light, we’ll head to the east market and buy that horse.”

Ling Qing blinked in stunned surprise, then burst with excitement. “Really? Master, you’re not joking? You’re really going to give me a horse?”

Liu Yuanxun nodded, smiling warmly. “No tricks.”

“Thank you, Master!” In a flash, Ling Qing slipped in front of Liu Yuanxun, dropped to one knee, and cupped her fists in a formal salute. “Master, may you live a thousand years, a thousand years, a thousand thousand years!”

After her elaborate bow, she sprang up with a mischievous grin, pulled a funny face, and laughed. “Best if I live a thousand years too—that way, you can give me nine hundred eighty-four more presents!”

Liu Yuanxun laughed and shook his head, his gaze brimming with gentleness.

Gu Lianzhao, however, was far from pleased.

He could settle his affairs, flick the dust from his sleeves, and be gone by dawn, putting distance between himself and Liu Yuanxun. What he could not abide was Liu Yuanxun carrying on as if nothing had happened.

Last night, they had been locked in the most intimate of embraces, lovers entwined. Yet today, here he was lavishing tender smiles on others, pretending the night before had never occurred.

That displeasure twisted into a spark of malice, urging him to rip open Liu Yuanxun’s clothes right then and there—to show this pair of siblings the evidence of passion marked across their master’s skin.

He had always been a selfish villain, after all, and even his villainous impulses brooked no reason. In this life, he had coveted little beyond power. But now he had stumbled upon this guileless soul, so easily tricked and coddled. As long as he could deceive and soothe him, Gu Lianzhao would claim Liu Yuanxun as his private possession in the depths of his heart.

What did Liu Yuanxun’s consent matter? His time was running short anyway—whoever benefited, why not seize it himself? Was he to wait idly for the Queen Mother to grant such fortune by whim?

That obsessive possessiveness and spiteful malice churned within him. Before he could act on it, Ling Qing spoke up.

“Once my birthday’s over,” she said, “yours will be right around the corner, Master. The steward uncle mentioned the other day that we’ve got new folks in the mansion this year. He wanted to know if the birthday banquet should stick to the usual scale or if we should hire an opera troupe to liven things up.”

The word “birthday” momentarily distracted Gu Lianzhao.

He had no real notion of birthdays, had never celebrated one. But linking it to Liu Yuanxun invested the day with a strange wonder—it was the date, twenty-four years ago, when Liu Yuanxun had entered the world.

Liu Yuanxun’s smile dimmed, though. “No need for anything grand. Keep it simple.”

Ever since Imperial Father had passed away and Consort Mother had fallen ill and taken to her bed, he had lost all enthusiasm for birthdays.

Each year on that day, he found himself longing especially for his childhood—when his parents were well and his elder brother was always at his side, the family basking in simple joy. These days, the more bustling the mansion grew, the deeper his isolation cut.

And yet…

Once this birthday passed, he likely had little time left to live.

Beyond ensuring everyone in the household was properly provided for, he still needed to unravel the secret concealed in the zither score. If some grave injustice truly lay behind it, and he could uncover evidence to vindicate it, that would stand as the final worth of his fleeting life.