Chapter 76 Part 2

If he had never stumbled upon this matter, he might have let it be. But now that he had, he couldn’t ignore it. If it was a miscarriage of justice, he would right it. If it was a conspiracy, he would expose it. It was better than reaching the end of his life and realizing all he could recall was how many medicines he had swallowed and how many books he had read—nothing he had done for the common people.

“Ling Ting, go and—” He had barely spoken when he realized Ling Ting was already in the kitchen. He also realized his current state was abysmal.

He was too anxious.

So anxious that even with his mind a blank slate, he instinctively wanted to delegate more tasks and summon more people. There was still time before the poison fully took hold—a period not too long, but enough to tie up loose ends.

And yet he was still anxious.

The sudden flare-up of the poison had once again thrust the suffocating grip of death upon his throat. He desperately wanted to seize the evidence right now, resolve everything, and then—before his mind turned to mush—neatly slit his own throat and die cleanly.

But he knew haste was useless.

The more rushed he became, the more chaotic his thoughts, and the more prone he was to mistakes.

He had always preferred quiet, but today’s silence only amplified his restlessness. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even Broom Tail’s company would be better than solitary confinement in the study.

Liu Yuanxun rose, draped his greatcoat over his shoulders, and headed outside.

The two eunuchs guarding the study door stood in silence. When he emerged, they said nothing, simply trailing behind him like shadows.

Liu Yuanxun rarely spoke to them, but now he took the initiative. “What are your names?”

The two eunuchs answered one after the other.

“This slave is Chang An.”

“This slave is Chang Shun.”

Liu Yuanxun asked again, “How old are you?”

“This slave is thirty-seven.”

“This slave is twenty-nine.”

Having asked their names and ages, Liu Yuanxun had nothing else to say. He wasn’t much of a talker and had no knack for conversation—especially not with what felt like wooden posts. The silence returned.

Unable to bear it, Liu Yuanxun quickened his pace. Only when he reached the courtyard did he press a hand to his chest, steadying his slightly elevated heartbeat and catching his breath.

By the time he arrived at the rear yard, Broom Tail must have heard his footsteps. It nudged aside the leather curtain of its kennel with its head and poked out half its face, watching him quietly with its dark eyes.

Perhaps because of Gu Lianzhao’s earlier words, it no longer treated Liu Yuanxun like he was invisible.

Man and dog stared at each other for a long moment. Liu Yuanxun capitulated first, crouching down at a safe distance. “Didn’t your master say you could kowtow? Come on, show me. Do a good job, and I’ll get you an extra meal at lunch.”

He knew Broom Tail probably couldn’t understand him, but he held out hope anyway.

Broom Tail ignored him, but it did push through the curtain and pad out. It flopped down not far away and watched him quietly, as if keeping him company.

Broom Tail was a classic hunting dog, its appearance far from cute. Even lying there docilely, its rippling muscles exuded intimidation, quashing any urge to pet or tease it.

Liu Yuanxun half-squatted and chatted with it. “I heard you once killed three wolves single-handedly. Pretty impressive, huh?”

The word “wolf” must have struck a nerve. Broom Tail’s ears twitched, and a low, threatening rumble rose from its throat.

Liu Yuanxun startled and scooted back a bit. But as soon as he moved, Broom Tail quieted down again.

He struggled to make small talk with living people, let alone a dog that barely acknowledged him. After squatting a while, Liu Yuanxun couldn’t hold the position and stood up. Broom Tail rose with him, its gaze still fixed on him.

Liu Yuanxun waved it off. “It’s too cold out here. I need to head back. You go into your kennel too.”

Broom Tail made no sound but seemed to understand. It turned and retreated inside.

Liu Yuanxun stared at the fallen curtain for a moment, then shivered in the biting wind. He was about to turn back indoors when footsteps sounded behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Gu Lianzhao approaching, neatly dressed, his hand lowering mid-gesture.

Liu Yuanxun understood. “Did you tell Broom Tail to go back in?”

“Mm.” Gu Lianzhao reached his side without asking why he was in the rear yard again. He took Liu Yuanxun’s hand loosely, then let go. “Your hands are freezing.”

Liu Yuanxun murmured an absent agreement. Seeing Gu Lianzhao fully dressed, he asked, “Are you heading out?”

“Mm. Time to go to the Imperial Prison. When you came in through the front gate, I was just about to leave. I heard you head to the rear yard, so I came to check.”

“Aren’t you having lunch?”

“No need. The Embroidered Uniform Guard has a canteen.”

Liu Yuanxun hadn’t planned to interfere, but thinking of how Gu Lianzhao hadn’t returned all night, had only rested a little over an hour after coming back, and now might be gone until who knew when, he couldn’t help adding, “The kitchen’s preparing food. If it’s not urgent, why not eat first?”

Gu Lianzhao was in a hurry. Liu Xun had saddled him with a thorny case to tie him down, cut his manpower, and was just waiting for him to slip up. He was so swamped he wished he could split himself into three.

But he knew something was off with Liu Yuanxun.

Liu Yuanxun wasn’t the type to fuss over dogs. His morning visit was one thing, but coming back after an hour made no sense.

“Let’s go, then.” He looked steadily at Liu Yuanxun, waiting until they stood side by side before heading to the inner chamber together.

Whether they ate or not hardly mattered. Even with Gu Lianzhao keeping him company through the meal, Liu Yuanxun’s state hadn’t improved much.

His features were soft, and even weighed down by worry, he still looked gentle. But during the meal, his mind was clearly elsewhere, his appetite even poorer than usual.

After they finished, there was no more time to delay. Gu Lianzhao stood. “I’ll head out.”

Liu Yuanxun snapped back to attention at his voice and waved him off with a gentle smile. “Come back soon.”

Gu Lianzhao acknowledged it crisply, turning with decisive motion. But at the threshold, he paused for a beat.

In the end, he didn’t linger. He fetched Black Thunder and went straight to the Imperial Prison.

…

Word from the palace came quickly. Barely a quarter-hour after Gu Lianzhao left, a servant boy arrived with a message from Eunuch Hong.

Unfortunately, Liu Yuanze had refused his request to enter the palace, citing pressing palace affairs.

Liu Yuanxun’s expression darkened at the news.

Ling Ting looked at him worriedly. “Young Master…”

“It’s fine.” Liu Yuanxun forced a smile. “The palace is busy. Plenty of ministers are waiting for audiences. I don’t have anything important anyway. I can go another day.”

He said that, but disappointment was plain. He kicked off his boots and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over his head. “I want to sleep for a bit.”

Liu Yuanxun rarely visited the palace. At most, he’d go once every ten days; at least, perhaps not even once a month. Usually, Eunuch Hong came to fetch him personally. Whenever Liu Yuanxun sent word requesting entry, the Emperor had never refused.

But this time…

Ling Qing and Ling Ting exchanged a glance, unsure how to comfort him.

When Liu Yuanxun was in a foul mood, he liked to sleep it off. Fresh from his medicine, he couldn’t go out to clear his head either. Ling Qing tugged Ling Ting’s sleeve. “Let’s go. Let the young master rest.”

Ling Ting had no choice but to follow Ling Qing out.

When Liu Yuanxun pulled the quilt over his head, he had wanted to cry.

The shocks of the day had hit him too hard. He had prepared himself mentally for three years, but when it truly arrived, he still craved solace from his family.

With the Imperial Father gone and Consort Mother hard to see, Liu Yuanze was his only remaining kin. At a time like this, he just wanted to see his brother. It wouldn’t take long—just a quick meeting, a few words. He felt sure it would help.

But Liu Yuanze had refused him.

With the Ling siblings still in the room, he had held back his tears. He was no child; he couldn’t cry in front of them.

But once they left, the tears wouldn’t come. The quilt smothered him besides. He peeled back a corner to breathe fresh air.

A patient was a patient—even grief lacked strength. As the medicine took effect, his eyes still damp, he drifted into sleep unawares.

When he woke, the sun was nearly set, and Gu Lianzhao had returned.

Liu Yuanxun rubbed his bleary eyes and sat up. “You’re back early today. All done?”

Gu Lianzhao hummed in affirmation and met his gaze. “You woke up at just the right time.”

Right time?

What did that mean?

Still dazed, Liu Yuanxun felt Gu Lianzhao’s hand slip under the covers to grab his leg. With a tug, he yanked Liu Yuanxun flat onto the soft bedding.

Liu Yuanxun struggled upright. “What are you doing?”

Gu Lianzhao offered no explanation. He dragged him to the bed’s edge and started putting on his boots. Once the boots were on, he wrapped him in a robe, then added the greatcoat and hooded cape.

From digging Liu Yuanxun out of the covers to bundling him up, the motions flowed seamlessly, astonishingly swift.

If not for the piercing cold wind that instantly jolted him awake outside, Liu Yuanxun might have thought he was still dreaming.

Gu Lianzhao glanced sideways at him. “Ready?”

Liu Yuanxun stood in the courtyard, staring blankly at Gu Lianzhao. “Ready for what?”

“That means yes.” Gu Lianzhao decided for him. He bent his knees, looped his arms under Liu Yuanxun’s legs and back, and with a heave, scooped him securely into his embrace.

Liu Yuanxun had no idea what he intended to do. The sudden sensation of weightlessness made him instinctively clutch at Gu Lianzhao’s collar as he cried out in alarm, “What are you doing?”

Gu Lianzhao said nothing. He simply tilted his head back to gaze at the roof above, then drew in a deep breath. Circulating his internal force, he surged upward with a powerful leap. In the blink of an eye, he had soared onto the rooftop and landed steadily astride the ridge.

Liu Yuanxun saw everything blur before his eyes, the wind whistling fiercely in his ears. When his vision cleared once more, he found himself perched on the rooftop ridge, more than ten feet above the ground.

The wind howled relentlessly here, with no railings to offer any protection. Liu Yuanxun gripped Gu Lianzhao’s collar tightly, afraid to let go even as he was gently lowered onto the roof tiles.

“Come.” Gu Lianzhao slipped an arm around his waist and guided him forward along the ridge, step by careful step, until they reached its widest point. Only then did he steady Liu Yuanxun’s waist, helping him sit down securely.

Terror made Liu Yuanxun’s heart quake; he had no attention to spare for the world around him. For the first time, he realized that even atop a roof ridge, one had no choice but to keep their head low. Though gripped by fear, he dared not release his hold and could only follow in Gu Lianzhao’s footsteps.

Once he was seated and stable, Liu Yuanxun managed to ask in a trembling voice, “Why bring us up here?”

Gu Lianzhao settled beside him and lifted a hand to point toward the horizon. “To watch.”

Liu Yuanxun followed the line of his finger with his gaze—and in that single glance, all his questions were answered.

No wonder Gu Lianzhao had said he had woken at just the right moment.

It was perfect timing indeed.

The sun was setting at that very instant, its afterglow blazing in utmost splendor and setting the sky ablaze as if with fire. Clouds in brilliant gold had gathered into a flowing river across the heavens. Every sight within view was bathed in gorgeous hues of orange and yellow—dazzling, magnificent.

The beauty of it left Liu Yuanxun speechless for a long, long while.