The snow outside the window stopped falling around midnight, but the wind remained fierce, howling ceaselessly through the night. In his dreams, the man slept soundly, blissfully unaware of it all.
As dawn gradually broke, Ling Ting came to attend to him. With his sharp eyes, he spotted the red marks on Liu Yuanxun’s neck, vivid like red plum blossoms scattered across the snow. They were so conspicuous, so piercing.
He hurriedly lowered his head. The night before, when he’d accompanied Liu Yuanxun to sleep, his heart had been filled with a serene acceptance, as if he’d come to terms with everything once more. Yet now, faced with these fresh traces, a pang of sourness still welled up uncontrollably in his chest.
But he had no right to jealousy. He could only acknowledge his place and fulfill his duties.
Liu Yuanxun hadn’t noticed the marks on his own body at all. Ordinary people checked mirrors to ensure their attire was neat, but he was accustomed to being waited upon and didn’t particularly care about his appearance, so he seldom looked in one—let alone paid attention to the traces on his neck.
Even if he had noticed, Gu Lianzhao had plenty of excuses ready to coax him.
After breakfast, Liu Yuanxun began changing clothes.
He wasn’t donning court robes but rather a crossed-collar robe signifying a prince’s status. The slate-blue garment was embroidered with four-clawed python patterns, overlaid with a luxurious cloak of blue fox fur. The moon-white satin lining accentuated Liu Yuanxun’s refined and elegant air, making him seem like an ethereal young lord conjured from a blue fox spirit.
Once the token symbolizing Prince Rui’s identity was fastened at his waist, he was ready to set off.
Gu Lianzhao had gone out early that morning. He trained diligently in martial arts without ever slacking off. Only when the sounds inside the house quieted did he withdraw his true qi and lead Broom Tail into the front courtyard.
He stood in the courtyard for a moment before Liu Yuanxun emerged.
Gu Lianzhao rarely saw Liu Yuanxun dressed so formally. He blanked out for an instant before regaining his composure, cupping his fists in salute and murmuring, “Your Highness.”
Liu Yuanxun smiled at him. “I’ve already instructed Ling Ting to fetch something from the storeroom. You and I can head toward the main gate first. By the time we reach the front courtyard, he should be back.”
Gu Lianzhao nodded, his expression oddly cool and detached. He showed no curiosity about what Liu Yuanxun intended to give him, nor any interest in Ling Ting’s whereabouts.
Liu Yuanxun sensed something off about him but, recalling how excessively close they’d been the night before, hesitated repeatedly and ultimately said nothing.
Ling Qing was someone he should keep his distance from, too, yet he treated her like a little sister. Even when she got excited and acted a touch too affectionately, like hugging his arm, it felt perfectly natural to Liu Yuanxun.
He never deliberately avoided suspicion or created distance. So why did he always feel so ill at ease around Gu Lianzhao?
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he reflected on it, wondering if it was because he was so familiar with Ling Qing that he subconsciously overlooked her occasional oversteps.
But upon closer examination, though intimate, their interactions with Ling Qing had always stayed within reasonable bounds. At most, she’d hug his arm—they’d never shared a bed.
After much deliberation, the true culprit was Liu Yuanze!
If not for all his convoluted schemes, the boundaries between Liu Yuanxun and Gu Lianzhao wouldn’t have become so blurred.
Lost in his wandering thoughts, Liu Yuanxun paid no heed to the path underfoot. Even with someone supporting him, he still slipped, nearly tumbling to the ground.
Gu Lianzhao swiftly caught him by the small of his back, pressing his palm just firmly enough to steady him securely. He offered no warnings about watching his step. Once Liu Yuanxun was stable, Gu Lianzhao fell silent, merely slowing their pace as he continued to support him.
Liu Yuanxun murmured his thanks.
Gu Lianzhao replied, “You’re too polite, Your Highness.”
From then on, they proceeded in silence. Because they walked slowly, by the time they reached the front courtyard, Ling Ting had already been waiting for quite a while.
“Your Highness.” Ling Ting handed over the dagger and lifted the carriage curtain. “The wind is strong outside. Please, Your Highness and Lord Gu, board the carriage first.”
Gu Lianzhao’s gaze flicked over the dagger, narrowing slightly before he casually looked away.
Liu Yuanxun, however, caught every subtle shift in his reaction. Suppressing a smile in his eyes, he took the dagger and boarded the carriage ahead of him.
Gu Lianzhao followed behind. As he passed Ling Ting, he keenly sensed movement from behind.
Before he could even turn his head, his right hand shot out like an eagle’s talon, clamping down firmly on Ling Ting’s wrist. His strike was lightning-fast and immensely powerful; Ling Ting, caught off guard, let out a muffled grunt of pain.
It all happened in the blink of an eye—Gu Lianzhao’s defensive pivot purely on instinct.
Hearing the grunt, he immediately released his grip and said flatly, “My apologies.”
Ling Ting knew it was his own sudden movement to blame. He rotated his wrist and explained in a low voice, “I meant no harm. I only heard that outsiders can’t enter the Imperial Prison, so I wanted to ask Lord Gu to look after His Highness. His Highness, he…” fears blood.
But before he could finish, the calm composure Gu Lianzhao had maintained all morning cracked. He turned back to Ling Ting, lips curling in cold mockery. “And on what authority does Lord Ling say this to me? As a guard? Or…”
He didn’t voice the second half.
Because Ling Ting had already bowed his head and retreated swiftly, his actions a silent plea for mercy.
Ling Ting had deliberately kept his voice low to avoid Liu Yuanxun’s ears. Though Gu Lianzhao was provoking him, he inexplicably matched the volume, not wanting Liu Yuanxun to overhear.
The words had initially disgusted Gu Lianzhao, but seeing Ling Ting recoil in panic, desperate to avoid exposure, that revulsion suddenly dissipated.
For the first time, he felt a twinge of pity for Ling Ting.
Because in that moment, to some extent, he and Ling Ting were in the same predicament.
They both knew exactly what kind of person sat inside that carriage. Despite their vastly different temperaments, they made the same choice: to conceal their feelings.
Gu Lianzhao gave Ling Ting a deep look, refraining from pressing his advantage with further mockery. Instead, he lifted the curtain and slipped into the carriage, settling quietly at Liu Yuanxun’s side.
Liu Yuanxun eyed him curiously. “Were you two chatting?”
Gu Lianzhao had long noted Liu Yuanxun’s insatiable curiosity about everything under the sun. Once satisfied with an answer, though, he’d drop the subject entirely.
He grunted an affirmative, arms crossed as he leaned against the carriage wall in a clear signal he didn’t wish to elaborate. Liu Yuanxun let it go.
He’d felt Gu Lianzhao was acting strangely all day, just as Ling Ting had been odd lately. Had the two of them quarreled?
But it wasn’t his business, and prying too much might annoy them, so he held his tongue, clutching the dagger in his lap without a word.
Gu Lianzhao sat quietly at first, waiting for Liu Yuanxun to hand over the dagger. But as time dragged on with no sign of it, and unwilling to ask outright, his mood soured further.
Liu Yuanxun had guessed Gu Lianzhao fancied the dagger and was deliberately holding onto it, teasing him the way he might Ling Qing. But as the moments stretched, the atmosphere in the carriage grew ever more tense.
“Your Highness.”
“Hm?” Liu Yuanxun, pondering whether the mood was right for gift-giving, jumped at the sudden voice.
Gu Lianzhao’s gaze had settled on him at some point, naturally catching the startled tremor.
Seeing Liu Yuanxun so easily spooked eased something in Gu Lianzhao’s chest. He pressed his lips to hide a smile, but the slight upturn at the corners didn’t escape Liu Yuanxun’s notice.
“You smiled?” Liu Yuanxun stared at him in wonder. “You actually smiled…”
Found out, Gu Lianzhao dropped the pretense. He lowered his arms and said leisurely, “Am I not allowed to smile?”
Liu Yuanxun whispered, “You can smile, of course. It’s just… surprising.”
Gu Lianzhao arched a brow. “Surprising how?”
“Don’t get mad if I say it,” Liu Yuanxun scooted a bit farther from him. Seeing Gu Lianzhao nod, he continued, “I’ve seen you smirk coldly, sneer, and mock, but never a smile like the one just now.”
“And what kind of smile was that one?”
Gu Lianzhao was unusually talkative today, pressing relentlessly like he was determined to get to the bottom of it. Some things stayed pure if kept in one’s heart, but voicing them altered the flavor.
With those piercing eyes seeming to bore into his soul, Liu Yuanxun could find no other words. He lowered his lashes and stammered out the truth, “It was… just a really nice smile.”
Gu Lianzhao froze abruptly.
Liu Yuanxun flushed at his own words and scooted toward the other end of the carriage, babbling explanations. “I didn’t mean anything else! Just the literal meaning—like, a compliment. You get it, right?”
He’d crammed four “meanings” into that short sentence. If Gu Lianzhao still didn’t grasp it, he’d have been booted from the Embroidered Uniform Guard long ago.
These were Liu Yuanxun’s own words, yet he explained frantically afterward as if regretting them. Gu Lianzhao’s amusement faded, his eyes cooling. “And what would ‘other meaning’ mean?”
“I said there is no other meaning!” As Gu Lianzhao’s demeanor chilled, Liu Yuanxun picked up on it. Perhaps their recent bed-sharing had drawn them closer, but he felt no fear—only a spark of irritation flaring up. He huffed softly, “I compliment you and you’re still not happy? You’re impossible to please. So what do you want?”
“Right, if Your Highness compliments me, I should be thrilled. But if I ask even one extra question, you’ll get annoyed. And once you’re annoyed, no more compliments—and I’m the one who loses out in the end.” Gu Lianzhao rattled off the long speech in one breath, then concluded coolly, “Best if you don’t compliment me at all, then. Saves you the trouble of irritating yourself over it.”
“Stop circling around… My head hurts…” Liu Yuanxun clutched his forehead, baffled. It was just a compliment on his nice smile—why had it nearly turned into an argument?
Sure enough, you couldn’t casually praise a ger. Doing so was bound to cause trouble.
Gu Lianzhao let out a cold chuckle and turned his head away.
Liu Yuanxun glanced at him, then again, before muttering softly, “So, do you want this dagger or not?”
A heavy gloom weighed on Gu Lianzhao’s heart. He nearly snapped that he didn’t, in a fit of pique, but reined himself in: Why hold a grudge against a good thing?
After wrestling with it, he tossed out stiffly, “Yes.”
