Gu Lianzhao was still staring at the sky until Liu Yuanxun called his name. Only then did he turn, stunned.
By evening, the snow had piled up thickly. With a faint creak underfoot, Liu Yuanxun trudged through it and came to a stop beside him.
The moon in the sky remained the same moon, yet the one on earth curved his lips in a gentle smile, his serene gaze holding a handful of moonlight.
Liu Yuanxun raised his hand to brush the snow from his shoulder, his tone a mix of curiosity and gentle reproach. “How did so much snow gather here? Aren’t you cold?”
Gu Lianzhao stared at him in a daze as a fierce impulse surged within his heart—he wanted to pull him into a tight embrace.
This time, it was not to spite Ling Ting, nor to sate the filthy urges lurking in his depths.
Perhaps it was the breathtaking beauty of tonight’s moonlight and snowscape that left him breathless, stripping away all his sordidness. He longed only to enfold Liu Yuanxun as one might cradle a handful of pure snow—gently, and nuzzle against him with tender affection.
In the end, though, he suppressed the urge. He shook his head and murmured softly, “I’m not cold.”
Indulgence at night could still be blamed on carnal desire, but what would embracing him under the moonlight mean?
Liu Yuanxun was so guileless and pure that he dared to unleash his desires without restraint. Yet when he sensed those flames burning hotter, threatening to scorch even Liu Yuanxun, his reason reasserted itself.
The three of them walked side by side. Along the way, Gu Lianzhao recounted every clue he had uncovered.
From the traces left in Feng Hu’s room and the testimonies of others, it was clear that Feng Hu had a lover outside. But the woman must have repeatedly cautioned him to keep all her details hidden, for no one in the surroundings knew anything about her.
With Feng Hu dead, uncovering her trail would require him to return to the Embroidered Uniform Guard, muster men, and conduct a thorough search.
After hearing him out, Liu Yuanxun said, “Then let’s go tomorrow. I’ll come with you.”
Gu Lianzhao paused in faint surprise, the words of dissuasion dying on his lips.
He had neither the right nor the reason to stop him.
This was the perfect chance for Liu Yuanxun to witness the hell on earth that was the Imperial Prison, where he had served for three years.
As they neared the courtyard door, Ling Ting’s glances toward Gu Lianzhao grew more frequent.
Gu Lianzhao knew what weighed on his mind. He was wondering who would attend Liu Yuanxun for the night—for when a consort was present, the guards could not enter the master’s chambers.
The moment they stepped into the courtyard, Gu Lianzhao cupped his hands and said, “Your Highness, I’ll head to the back yard to practice my martial arts.”
Ling Ting started, his face betraying unguarded astonishment at how readily Gu Lianzhao had withdrawn.
Gu Lianzhao met his eyes with calm indifference before turning toward the back yard.
…
Inside the room.
Fresh from his bath, Liu Yuanxun reclined against the bedhead, absorbed in a book. Ling Ting dried his hair with a silk cloth, the oil lamp popping softly now and then in the tranquil, soothing atmosphere.
In this quiet intimacy, Ling Ting’s heart gradually settled. His desires were simple: to remain by Liu Yuanxun’s side, serving him just like this, was the greatest luxury he could imagine.
With his heart at peace, the mild and reserved Ling Ting of old resurfaced. He gently combed through Liu Yuanxun’s long hair, his voice soft as if afraid to disturb the serenity. “Master.”
Liu Yuanxun did not lift his eyes from the page, merely humming in acknowledgment.
“For your birthday this year, will you celebrate here in the residence?”
Liu Yuanxun paused briefly before replying slowly, “If Imperial Brother permits it, I’d like to go to Shou Kang Palace.”
It would be his last birthday.
Even if he could not stand vigil at Consort Mother’s side, he yearned to spend this special day outside the palace gates with her.
Eager to shift the topic, he added, “Have you prepared a gift for me?”
Ling Ting chuckled softly. “Didn’t Master say last year, when receiving gifts, that I should save my silver and not bother next time?”
Liu Yuanxun closed his book with lazy deliberation, a teasing glint in his expression. “That was just politeness. I’ve been polite for years now, and you still send one every time?”
How could he not? In the span of a whole year, the only chance he had to convey his feelings was through the pretext of Liu Yuanxun’s birthday.
No sooner had he presented one gift than he began preparations for the next—saving coin, racking his brains, whatever it took. He harbored no grander wish than to witness that fleeting spark of delight in Liu Yuanxun’s eyes upon receiving it.
When Liu Yuanxun smiled, Ling Ting felt it was all worthwhile.
As his hair dried completely, Liu Yuanxun yawned twice behind his book.
Overcome by drowsiness, he glanced at the markings on the incense clock. “It’s so late already—no wonder I’m tired. You should rest too. A’Qiao will be back soon.”
But Ling Ting replied, “You sleep. I’ll leave once Lord Gu arrives.”
The day’s upheavals had left him rattled; he dared not give any miscreant another opening and wished to extend his time guarding Liu Yuanxun for as long as possible, rather than departing as usual.
Though Liu Yuanxun showed no outward sign, a lingering fear gnawed at him too. With Ling Ting staying, he felt reassured and drifted into deep slumber soon after closing his eyes.
The day’s relentless troubles had strung his nerves taut. As night fell and sleep claimed him, the terrors buried in his heart erupted into nightmares.
In the dream, Feng Hu’s form sharpened then blurred amid thick fog, gradually morphing into a woman with eyes frozen wide in death, unblinking.
It was his wet nurse—Jiang Yuniang.
In his youth, he had suckled from two women. One was his mother, who had sacrificed her own body as a cauldron to brew nourishing milk for him. The other was Jiang Yuniang, the wet nurse carefully selected from the palace.
That night, the wind howled outside as a sudden downpour battered the windows, the fat raindrops drumming loud enough to drown any subtle noise.
His vital energy was so depleted that he slept like the dead; no disturbance could rouse him.
Yet that day, he awoke.
He was ten years old.
A thunderclap split the sky, illuminating the night like day. In that instant, he opened his eyes to Jiang Yuniang’s pallid, twisted face. Her slender arms clutched a dagger overhead, every ounce of her strength driving it toward him.
Terror paralyzed him; he could only watch as the blade drew nearer.
At the critical moment, a flash of cold steel—a guard swung his longsword from behind her, channeling all his might.
Time was short; the guard had no chance to adjust his stroke. Knowing this strike decided Liu Yuanxun’s fate, he committed to the kill the instant he drew.
The heavy blow cleaved Jiang Yuniang from right shoulder to left waist.
In a heartbeat, blood gushed forth. Her body split in two—one half crashing to the floor, the other pitching face-down onto Liu Yuanxun’s bedding.
Huddled beneath the covers, he trembled uncontrollably. The gruesome crimson filled his vision, the overpowering metallic stench threatening to engulf him.
He clutched the mattress beneath him, feeling it grow wetter and wetter. In his panicked, empty mind, a vague thought surfaced: had he wet himself?
But the steady drip-drip soon revealed the truth—it was blood soaking through from below.
He could scarcely fathom how one small body held so much blood. It saturated the bedding, seeped into the mattress beneath him, splattered meters high, staining the entire room.
His world drowned in red. When servants finally wrapped him in fresh quilts and carried him away, his teeth still chattered.
Later, they placed him in hot water. The blood from the sodden quilts had stained his skin; they changed the water twice, yet it still ran faintly pink.
In life, Jiang Yuniang had fed him her milk. In death, she gave him her blood.
These two gifts from her body—one had nourished him, the other had overwhelmed him, instilling a lifelong dread of darkness and blood alike.
Jiang Yuniang died on the spot.
To this day, Liu Yuanxun had no inkling of who lurked behind her.
Someone was always after his life.
Someone always died in the attempt.
Beyond Jiang Yuniang, there were the maids who dressed him, the young eunuchs who tasted his food for poison, and Feng Hu, who had fallen just today…
In the dream, Liu Yuanxun found himself back on that blood-soaked bed. His body slick and clammy, the air thick with the rusty stench, Jiang Yuniang’s severed half pressing down on him through the thin summer quilt. Her eyes bulged wide, staring with a ferocious glare that twisted her once-gentle gaze into something horrifying.
Gradually, the bed beneath him became a mass grave. Countless skeletal remains churned like raging waves, their withered hands tipped with blackened nails clawing and grasping, as if to drag him into the abyss.
It’s not my fault…
I didn’t kill you…
He wanted to flee but had no idea where to go. Blood was everywhere… He had nowhere to turn… He could only watch helplessly as skeletal hands hauled him back into the pit, before a deluge of blood swallowed him whole.
Villains reveled in hell, while the good suffered in the chains of their own morality.
Liu Yuanxun’s breaths came in ragged gasps, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his lips beginning to quiver…
Gu Lianzhao frowned, halting his movements to glance at the Joyous Love Incense curling from the burner. Before he could discern anything amiss, Liu Yuanxun’s breathing grew ever more frantic—unnaturally so.
Gu Lianzhao’s expression shifted. He straightened Liu Yuanxun’s clothes and swiftly swung his legs off the bed, intent on summoning an imperial physician.
He had taken but half a step when Liu Yuanxun’s eyes snapped open on the bed.
“A’Qiao…” Liu Yuanxun called to him, voice trembling. “No, don’t go… Stay with me.”
Those few simple words melted Gu Lianzhao’s bones to water. He hurried back onto the bed, threw back the covers, and drew Liu Yuanxun tightly into his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here with you.” Gu Lianzhao murmured soothingly, patting his back again and again—his voice so tender it embarrassed even him.
Liu Yuanxun was drenched in cold sweat, his pupils dilated, still lost in the nightmare’s grip as tremors wracked his body.
Gu Lianzhao held him close, cooing reassurances, his own thoughts drifting to Liu Yuanxun as well.
In that moment, he realized that if Liu Yuanxun beseeched him to save his life in just such a tone, he would act without hesitation.
No questions of gain or loss.
If Liu Yuanxun needed saving, he would save him.
