The meal passed in unusual quiet. Liu Yuanxun kept his head down, focused on his vegetables, while Liu Yuanze refrained from any extraneous movements.
Once the meal ended, the palace maids silently and swiftly cleared away the leftovers. Hong Fu stepped forward at just the right moment to pour tea for them. Despite the bustle of servants coming and going in the vast hall, an eerie stillness hung in the air, as if they were entirely alone.
Liu Yuanze gently rubbed the rim of his teacup with his thumb. After a long pause, he turned his head toward Liu Yuanxun and asked, “How’s the investigation into Xiao Jinye’s case progressing?”
This world was the Emperor’s domain, after all. No matter what anyone did, it ultimately required the Emperor’s approval. Liu Yuanxun had no intention of hiding anything, though he still omitted certain details.
“I suspect Xiao Jinye may have been wrongly accused. And in the course of investigating his case, Feng Yuanyuan’s came up as well.”
At the mention of “Feng Yuanyuan,” Liu Yuanze’s mouth twitched faintly a couple of times. He seemed on the verge of speaking but hesitated and held back, asking only softly, “These cases aren’t easy to crack. If you come up empty, it’s all wasted effort. But if you uncover something… it could cost you your life. Aren’t you afraid?”
Liu Yuanxun smiled calmly and replied with two simple words: “Not afraid.”
Liu Yuanze froze for a moment, unable to stop himself from giving his brother several more glances.
The midday sun shone perfectly, filtering through the latticed windows to bathe the entire hall in light. It draped a thin veil of radiance over Liu Yuanxun, who sat with his back to it. His ink-black hair hung loosely to his shoulders, accentuating the slender lines of his frame.
The backlighting obscured his face from Liu Yuanze’s view, revealing only the gentle serenity in his eyes.
In that instant, Liu Yuanze understood.
Liu Yuanxun wasn’t merely paying lip service—he truly wasn’t afraid of death. Or more precisely, it wasn’t that he lacked fear; he had simply lived enough. Beneath that tranquil surface lingered a profound weariness, buried deeper than words could reach.
Perhaps that earlier “Xun’er” had softened Liu Yuanxun’s heart, or maybe the sunlight’s warmth in this moment worked its own subtle magic.
An impulse stirred within Liu Yuanxun, a longing to nestle into Liu Yuanze’s arms as he had in childhood, listening to stories.
But an impulse was just that. He entertained the thought only in his mind, with no intention of acting on it by shamelessly burrowing into his brother’s embrace.
The past remained the past precisely because it could never return.
Even if he flung himself into Liu Yuanze’s arms and acted spoiled in this fleeting moment, reality would intrude the next second, forcing distance between them once more.
Liu Yuanxun met his gaze and said softly, “Imperial Brother, for my birthday this year… may I spend it in Consort Mother’s palace?”
Liu Yuanze paused, his expression turning complicated after a beat. “Go if you wish. Just don’t stay too long.”
Liu Yuanxun nodded.
Silence descended upon the hall once more.
In that quiet, Liu Yuanze felt a sudden, aimless restlessness gnawing at him.
He knew its source all too well. He and Liu Yuanxun had bickered endlessly—big fights and small—for three years. Every encounter, Liu Yuanxun had prodded his sore spots with deliberate precision, provoking thunderous rages time and again. Yet once the anger faded, Liu Yuanxun lingered in his thoughts.
Those wild emotional swings had masked the growing chasm between them, making it seem as though they had merely quarreled. Fill the gap, and they could reclaim their old, inseparable brotherhood.
But this time was different. Liu Yuanxun offered no provocations as he had before. He simply sat there in quiet composure, speaking softly. And in that, Liu Yuanze sensed an estrangement sharper and more unprecedented than any before.
Still, he tamped down the feeling.
Three years’ distance was nothing. Once Noble Consort Ling was gone, he and Liu Yuanxun would have years—decades—to rebuild their bond.
Hong Fu’s scheme was flawless. Were it not for the recent discovery of a way to neutralize the Gu poison, the rift between them wouldn’t have needed three years to bridge at all.
He had laid eyes on Liu Yuanxun himself and confirmed he was hale and unharmed. The meal’s purpose was served.
He knew he shouldn’t keep Liu Yuanxun in Nurturing Heart Hall any longer. Yet the restlessness bred unease, a reluctance to let him go—as if releasing him now meant never seeing him again.
The words slipped out before Liu Yuanze could stop them: “Why don’t you nap?”
Surprise flickered across Liu Yuanxun’s face. Before he could respond, Liu Yuanze added, “I’ve heard you make a habit of afternoon rests. Since you’ve come to Nurturing Heart Hall, rest here a while. Who knows if there’ll be another chance next time.”
That hint of vulnerability shattered Liu Yuanxun’s defenses. He pressed his lips together in hesitation before nodding gently. “Alright.”
He slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bright yellow daybed. Liu Yuanze came over personally to tuck the quilt around him. Once done, he didn’t leave but settled on the edge of the bed, his eyes drifting to the incense burner smoldering with Tranquilizing Incense on the outer side.
“Is that boy from the Embroidered Uniform Guard at least obedient?” he asked.
Liu Yuanxun frowned slightly in displeasure. “Why tie him down with words like ‘obedient’? Let him be himself. As long as it suits me, that’s enough.”
Liu Yuanze shot him a glance and found a measure of reassurance in that familiar tone, which softened his own voice in turn. “Protecting him already, and so soon? I always knew I couldn’t keep my little brother forever, but I didn’t realize he’d slip away quite this quickly.”
“Oh?” Liu Yuanze teased with a half-smile. “Does he bring you such pleasure?”
More nonsense.
Becoming Emperor had only made him less decorous.
Liu Yuanxun’s ears flushed red at the bluntness. He itched to roll his eyes but decided that would betray a lack of composure. Instead, he yanked the quilt up over his head, pointedly ignoring him.
A calm response might have aroused suspicion. But the reddened ears and the shy vulnerability in his demeanor reassured Liu Yuanze. He concluded that Liu Yuanxun and Gu Lianzhao must have consummated their marriage.
Better that way.
As long as the intimacies continued, the poison afflicting Liu Yuanxun would gradually transfer to the boy.
By then, with the toxin purged from Liu Yuanxun and Noble Consort Ling dead—even if the truth came out afterward—the die would be cast. No amount of turmoil could change it.
Liu Yuanxun was no fool. He knew his consort mother was the true architect of this.
Thus, even upon learning everything, he wouldn’t turn his resentment toward Liu Yuanze. After all, a life for a life was only just; avenging one’s mother was a son’s duty.
From the moment Liu Yuanxun had willingly shouldered her debt by swallowing the Chill Gu Poison, he had settled his obligations as a son.
The sins Noble Consort Ling had sown were hers alone to reap.
Liu Yuanze had never wagered on the seamlessness of Hong Fu’s plot. His true bet, from the start, was on Liu Yuanxun’s pure and tender heart.
Noble Consort Ling was his mother, yes—but he was Liu Yuanxun’s only brother.
While she lived, he had set aside brotherly bonds for the grace of birth. Would he forsake his sole remaining brother after losing his mother?
Impossible.
Liu Yuanze knew him through and through.
Death by illness differed from suicide.
If Liu Yuanxun took his own life, it wouldn’t save her—and it would brand Liu Yuanze a fratricide. Liu Yuanxun could never bear that.
From childhood, he had been one to value deeply, empathetic to the Imperial Father, deferential to his brother. Even the countless palace maids and eunuchs were, in his eyes, flesh-and-blood individuals with names and lives.
Yet such kindness, without protective barriers, was tantamount to handing foes the blade for his own throat. Those he cared for could seize it and hold him captive.
He and Liu Yuanxun had quarreled in their youth, too.
Liu Yuanze had chafed at how Liu Yuanxun fawned over the Imperial Father, despised how the hypocritical man manipulated him. In one heated clash, he had lost control and bellowed the truth.
“You think the Imperial Father dotes on you out of love? Wrong! It’s because you’re frail and sickly, posing no threat—that’s why he spoils you so freely, props you up at whim! He made you a target in our brothers’ eyes, a stone to warn off tigers! He never once cherished you as the son in his heart! How long will you let him fool you?”
Regret crashed over him the instant the words left his mouth.
He expected tears, or perhaps blows and accusations of lying. But Liu Yuanxun did neither.
He simply stood there, face pale as ash, his large eyes brimming with tears yet held back by stubbornly pursed lips.
Only after an agonizing stretch—when Liu Yuanze finally swallowed his pride, ready to apologize and blame it on a moment’s fury—did Liu Yuanxun act.
He raised a sleeve to wipe his eyes, gazing at Liu Yuanze with reddened rims, his voice hoarse and faint. “I already know…”
Liu Yuanze stared, dumbfounded. “Know what…?”
Liu Yuanxun struggled to summon a smile, but it twisted his features into something more like a sob.
His voice was soft as a breeze-tossed cloud.
“I know the Imperial Father’s regard isn’t entirely sincere. But so what? That affection… it isn’t all false, either.”
The little Liu Yuanxun stood there, eyes red-rimmed, his childish voice soft and glutinous as he delivered a truth that shattered Liu Yuanze’s heart. “He’s not just my father—he’s father to all under heaven. One word from him sparks endless speculation; a single gesture ignites strife. It’s no easy task to be his son. Do you think fatherhood comes easily? He views you as threats, but haven’t you all set your sights on his throne?”
“Everyone has their hardships,” Liu Yuanxun continued, wiping his tears once more before choking out, “Hardships deserve understanding. When I was ill, the Imperial Father kept vigil through the night. No sooner had I woken than he fell sick himself—is that false too? Sincerity doesn’t turn wholly false just because it’s mingled with deceit. Human nature is complex; precious bonds are rare. Since they’re rare, why demand perfection from them…?”
The rest blurred in Liu Yuanze’s memory.
All he knew was that a man who could forgive even an emperor as cold and ruthless as their father would surely forgive him, too—forgive the brother driven by hatred to avenge his mother…
Tendrils of smoke curled lazily from the incense burner, the Tranquilizing Incense lulling Liu Yuanxun into deeper slumber.
Liu Yuanze sat at the bedside, reaching out tentatively—awkwardly—to stroke his brother’s long hair.
It was almost over. Almost time.
The more often Xun’er and Gu Lianzhao consummated, the swifter his recovery.
The Gu poison defied cure not through sheer ferocity but because it was a living worm. Once inside a host, it bred and rooted, perishing only with its victim.
Fortunately, he had found the countermeasure. Fortunately, heaven had sent Gu Lianzhao as the key.
Only Pure Yang Internal Energy could stir the Gu Worm. And only through the union of yin and yang could Liu Yuanxun’s vital essence gradually ferry the parasites into Gu Lianzhao’s body.
As for Gu Lianzhao’s fate? It lay utterly beyond Liu Yuanze’s concern. His cares were few: the throne beneath him, the realm’s people… and Liu Yuanxun.
