Chapter 59

Liu Yuanxun didn’t sleep soundly in this unfamiliar bedroom. He woke after less than half an hour.

When he stirred awake, Liu Yuanze was at the nearby desk, reviewing memorials. Hearing the faint rustle, Liu Yuanze looked up and beckoned him over. “Come here.”

Before Liu Yuanxun could move, Hong Fu had already fetched a chair with nimble hands and placed it beside Liu Yuanze.

With the chair ready, Liu Yuanxun had no choice but to get up from the bed.

A young eunuch hurried to help him with his shoes, then brought clear water for him to rinse his mouth. Once the maid behind him had finished combing his hair, he finally sat down next to Liu Yuanze.

Nurturing Heart Hall hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, so its furnishings remained the same, carrying a familiar air of aged elegance.

In truth, when Imperial Father had been hale and hearty, he had been a remarkably wise emperor. He often kept his two sons by his side, teaching them the arts of rulership without reservation.

Two desks had always stood in Nurturing Heart Hall year-round—one for the Late Emperor, and one for Liu Yuanze.

Back then, Liu Yuanxun had been young and slight, spoiled to boot. He would either nestle in Imperial Father’s lap or squeeze onto Liu Yuanze’s chair, flipping through the memorials together with him.

Now they had both grown up, and a single chair could no longer hold them both.

Liu Yuanxun closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the emotion stirred by those memories had faded.

He sat quietly at Liu Yuanze’s side, eyes downcast, devoid of the carefree abandon of his childhood.

The young Liu Yuanxun would have blurted out a question upon seeing the name “Meng Yannian” in a memorial. But he had grown up now and knew better than to broach such taboo subjects lightly.

As he sat there in silence, his gaze fell upon an open memorial sliding slowly into view. Bewildered, Liu Yuanxun blinked and turned to Liu Yuanze.

Liu Yuanze held the vermilion brush calmly, his expression serene. Yet in pushing the memorial toward Liu Yuanxun, it was as if he were saying: “You can sit by my side; you can wield the power in my hands too. Things can be just like before.”

“You mentioned that Xiao Jinye’s case implicated Feng Yuanyuan, didn’t you? Well, this memorial mentions him too. Read it if you like—no need to hold back.”

Liu Yuanxun’s chest tightened abruptly, his eyes instantly brimming with tears that nearly spilled over.

He couldn’t understand why Liu Yuanze always tried to pull him back into the past when everything was beyond saving. But what good would it do to drag him back? Were they to live on in silent enmity, burdened by their mother’s death?

Liu Yuanze always assumed he had chosen their mother over his brother. Yet what truly tore him apart, what made him wish for death, was not only Consort Mother’s crimes but also Liu Yuanze’s seventeen long years of deception.

For seventeen years, he and Liu Yuanze had supported each other, thick as thieves. The genuine affection and warm moments in his eyes had, for Liu Yuanze, been years of concealed hatred and forced endurance.

The first word out of his mouth as a babe had been “Imperial Father,” the second “Consort Mother,” and the third “Imperial Brother.”

He had once believed Liu Yuanze’s feelings for him were sincere and unwavering. But reality had shattered that illusion: Liu Yuanze didn’t love him—he hated him.

Only gradually had love crept into that hate, overtaking it until, seventeen years later, when the facade tore away, even Liu Yuanze faltered, forgetting how deep his hatred had once run.

Liu Yuanze might have forgotten, but for Liu Yuanxun, it was as if the sky had fallen.

If Imperial Father’s affection for him had been false intent laced with true feeling, then Liu Yuanze’s had been true feeling mixed into false intent. The former he could forgive; the latter only filled him with revulsion.

Of course he knew Liu Yuanze was innocent in all this, but no amount of innocence could erase those seventeen years of lies.

Fortunately, it was all nearly over.

This intricate web of grudges and gratitude, these suffocating ties that drained and repelled him—would soon come to an end.

Liu Yuanxun drew a soft breath, then swallowed hard, forcing all his emotions down.

Focusing on the memorial, he waited until the dampness in his eyes fully dried before reading the words.

It was an impeachment memorial, targeting the former Jiangnan Grain Transport Supervisor, Ren Zhiyuan. With his predecessor Feng Yuanyuan’s crimes laid bare, the memorial dragged Ren Zhiyuan into it too, underscoring the perils of corruption among grain supervisors.

Jiangnan again…

Liu Yuanxun fell silent for a moment, then ventured cautiously, “What do you mean, Imperial Brother?”

Liu Yuanze replied unhurriedly, “If you want to investigate, take my decree and go as an imperial envoy. Visit Jiangnan yourself.”

Liu Yuanxun agreed without hesitation.

Very well.

The Imperial City always left him feeling suffocated. Before he died, a trip to Jiangnan would fulfill his regret of never venturing far.

But before leaving, he wanted one last look at Consort Mother.

Liu Yuanxun pressed his lips together, his voice softening unconsciously. “Imperial Brother, can I stay in the palace tonight? I’d like to sleep one night in Shou Kang Palace.”

Liu Yuanze was about to agree, but considering the bigger picture ahead, he steeled his heart and refused. “We’ll talk about it on your birthday.”

Liu Yuanxun wanted to plead, but the emotions he’d just suppressed weighed heavy in his chest, leaving him dizzy and lethargic. This familiar sensation was often the prelude to an attack. Afraid he might cause trouble by staying in Shou Kang Palace, he didn’t press further.

“Then when do I leave for Jiangnan?”

“After your birthday.” Seeing him yield so easily, Liu Yuanze breathed a sigh of relief.

Sending Liu Yuanxun to Jiangnan was also a way to keep him out of the capital temporarily, buying time to set the coming stage more convincingly.

Otherwise, with Liu Yuanxun’s sharp instincts, constant visits to Noble Consort Ling each month would make the play impossible to stage.

Mention of Noble Consort Ling soured Liu Yuanze’s mood as well. Worried about keeping Liu Yuanxun too long and arousing suspicion, he fell silent before signaling Hong Fu to escort him out.

The bright yellow palanquin descended, then rose again, carrying Liu Yuanxun step by step toward the palace gates.

The ride was steady, but Liu Yuanxun felt his stomach roil violently. He nearly vomited the moment he opened his mouth.

He held it in all the way until the palanquin stopped, when he finally felt a bit better.

Once it steadied, he spotted a familiar figure waiting outside the palace gates—Gu Lianzhao.

Gu Lianzhao stood tall and straight, his bearing like a sharp, unsheathed blade. Hearing the commotion from within the gates, he turned, recognized the occupant, and hurried over leading the carriage.

Whether it was the sight of the prince’s carriage that felt welcoming, or Gu Lianzhao’s presence that felt familiar from sharing a bed… In that moment, gazing at the man and horse beyond the gates, Liu Yuanxun felt a rare sense of peace.

When Gu Lianzhao reached them with the horse, Liu Yuanxun offered a faint smile and extended his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Gu Lianzhao noted his poor complexion and frowned instinctively. He started to ask, then thought better of it given the circumstances.

He helped Liu Yuanxun into the carriage, then clasped his fists in salute to Eunuch Hong before driving the horse onward.

Halfway there, Gu Lianzhao faintly heard muffled coughing from the carriage. Alarmed, he reined in the horse and lifted the curtain aside.

At once, he saw Liu Yuanxun half-raising his sleeve over his mouth and nose, shoulders shaking with the force of his coughs. The exertion flushed his cheeks an unnatural red, which only made his face look all the paler.

Gu Lianzhao flung the curtain aside and climbed inside.

One arm around Liu Yuanxun’s waist, the other swiftly checking his pulse, he prepared to channel True Qi for relief—but Liu Yuanxun pushed him away with a raspy, “Go home first.”

His voice was so low it was almost indistinct, but his resolve was firm.

Gu Lianzhao gave him a deep look, then yielded. “Alright, just hold on a little longer. We’re almost there.”

Liu Yuanxun nodded and slowly released his grip. As the curtain fell, he slumped against the carriage wall, exhausted.

Whether his frailty had worn down his spirits, or the emotional blows had wrecked his body—in this moment, he felt as if a gaping hole had opened in him, something vital leaking away, his chest aching unbearably.

The carriage sped on, striving for smoothness, but the jolts still made Liu Yuanxun frown in discomfort.

Clutching his chest, he coughed twice more. A thread of blood welled from his throat, filling his mouth with that familiar metallic tang. He swallowed with effort, forcing the blood back down.

As a child, when ill, he had never hidden it—after all, it was his body, and early medicine meant quicker recovery.

But now, at the end of his life, he no longer wanted to bare his weakness to others. Neither this decaying shell nor the inadvertent pity and concern in others’ eyes—both were shackles binding him ever tighter.

He had never told a soul that he didn’t want to see Physician Wang, nor hear others’ feigned optimism and consolations.

As the master of this body, no one knew its state better than he did. For someone nearing death’s door, empty promises of “what you can do once you’re better” paled beside “what you can still do with the time left.”

He knew Ling Ting and Ling Qing longed for his recovery, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth: The Gu Poison had taken root in him. Even an immortal couldn’t save him now.

At this point, his involvement in the case was one part for Liu San, four parts for justice—and the remaining three parts, even he hesitated to admit, were an escape. He needed something to pull him briefly from this loathsome mire.

…

At last, they reached the prince’s residence.

Before the carriage had fully halted, Gu Lianzhao slipped inside.

Without a word—without even glancing closely at Liu Yuanxun’s face—he scooped him up in a bridal carry. Once down from the carriage, he strode straight toward the bedroom.

Liu Yuanxun didn’t resist, merely clutching Gu Lianzhao’s collar and burying his face in the man’s chest. In a hoarse whisper, he said, “Don’t summon Physician Wang.”

Gu Lianzhao murmured back, “Mm.”

“And don’t have Ling Qing brew medicine.”

“Mm.”

“After you take me to the bedroom, go practice your martial arts.”

Gu Lianzhao’s tone stayed even, but his words changed. “No chance.”

After two steps, he paused, gazing down at the sickly figure in his arms. “Close your eyes and sleep. No more talking—leave everything to me.”

Can Gu Lianzhao handle it well? Liu Yuanxun didn’t know. He was already so exhausted that he didn’t want to think anymore; his body, which had been running non-stop for three days, had reached its absolute limit. Once his mental state collapsed, he completely buckled.

But even at this moment, his groggy mind still rigidly reviewed everything related to Gu Lianzhao, finally arriving at a vague conclusion: at least, he hadn’t messed anything up.

Then hand it over to him.

Liu Yuanxun slowly released his grip on the lapel. As soon as his mind slackened, his consciousness completely plunged into darkness…