Chapter 92 Part 2

Ling Ting didn’t dare look away, but his gaze kept drifting to Liu Yuanxun. Seeing his master’s face grow ever paler, he finally couldn’t hold back and snapped in a low voice, “Let go first! You’re choking Master to death!”

The man didn’t dare avert his gaze or loosen his grip on Liu Yuanxun’s throat. Even when he heard the low shout, he could only snarl irritably, “If you’re afraid I’ll choke him to death, hurry up and prepare what I asked for!”

Ling Ting had no choice but to rush to the hidden compartment and retrieve the painting. He then held up the scroll high, waiting for the man to see it clearly before asking, “This is it. How do I give it to you?”

“Tie it to the horse right now! Lead the horse to the gate! And have all the guards withdraw from the walls!”

“Alright, I’ll do it.” Ling Ting backed away slowly until he reached the door, then turned and hurried off.

Seeing that things were proceeding smoothly for the moment, the man let out a slight breath of relief. Only then did he notice that Liu Yuanxun, clutched in his grasp, had his eyes tightly shut, his breathing faint and thready.

He had known Prince Rui was frail, but he hadn’t realized just how fragile.

Fearing he might accidentally choke the prince to death and lose his only bargaining chip, the man finally released his vise-like fingers.

Time ticked by, and the man’s anxiety mounted until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He bellowed, “If you try any tricks, I’ll take Prince Rui down with me even if I die!”

“I’m here.” Ling Ting rushed back, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He explained, “The swift horses in the manor are all unruly; it took some effort to find one. It’s ready as you demanded!”

Surrounded on all sides, the man was on edge. He clung tightly to his sole lifeline, dragging Liu Yuanxun onto the horse. With one hand locked around the prince’s throat, he used the other to untie his belt, looping it around both their waists to bind them together securely. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Don’t think about shooting me in the back! If I take an arrow, your lord won’t live either!”

It was both a threat and a warning. As a martial arts expert, the slightest rustle of wind would give him time to snap Liu Yuanxun’s neck.

He was too cautious, sealing off nearly every possible vulnerability.

But Liu Yuanxun felt a measure of relief. He reached down and stroked Black Thunder’s glossy black fur, knowing Gu Lianzhao had arrived.

Before departing, the man unfurled the scroll tied to the carriage one last time, confirming it was the one he wanted. Then he lightly kicked the horse’s flank, and the pair rode slowly out of the manor.

Liu Yuanxun cooperated fully throughout. Once they exited the prince’s residence, armored guards mounted on horseback followed at a cautious distance, neither too close nor too far.

The city streets were crowded, and galloping recklessly could lead to accidents, so the man kept his cool. He didn’t prioritize speed, only safety. As long as he controlled Liu Yuanxun, he was certain he was untouchable.

His senses were sharp, his internal force circulating at its peak, and the weak, ragged breaths from the man in his grasp were crystal clear.

The city gates loomed just ahead when a flurry of arrow whistles sliced through the air behind his ear like lightning.

In that split second between life and death, the man had no time to react. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to drag Liu Yuanxun to hell with him. His three fingers tightened, aiming to crush the prince’s windpipe.

But in the instant his hand tensed, he realized with horror that his right arm wouldn’t move. An arrow’s speed was blinding; by the time his grip faltered for a fraction of a second, several more deadly shafts had pierced his skull and body from behind.

The man died with his eyes wide open, toppling rigidly backward. Liu Yuanxun, bound tightly to him, tumbled from the saddle as well.

At that moment, Gu Lianzhao vaulted over bystanders’ shoulders in a blur. Just as Liu Yuanxun neared the ground, Gu Lianzhao slashed his blade through the corpse behind the prince, severing the ropes while pulling Liu Yuanxun into his arms.

…

The instant he caught Liu Yuanxun, Gu Lianzhao felt a haze of confusion settle over him.

Yet amid the bewilderment came a strange calm. He calmly scooped the prince onto a horse and carried him back to the manor, laying him on the bed. Even after Physician Wang arrived and departed, he managed a polite, “Thank you.”

Physician Wang replied offhandedly, “No need,” but paused at the door, his expression turning peculiar upon glimpsing Gu Lianzhao’s face.

Soon, everyone was gone.

Ling Ting went to deal with the Forbidden Army troops, Ling Qing was brewing medicine, and Gu Lianzhao alone sat by the bed like a paralyzed invalid, utterly still.

He was awake, but his mind drifted far away.

He knew he’d brought Liu Yuanxun back to safety. Physician Wang had said there were no serious injuries, just superficial wounds—he’d heard it clearly.

Yet even now, he felt as if he were still leaping between the rooftops of the Imperial City, eyes locked on the horse bearing two riders amid the crowd. He watched the man’s hand intently, silently counting down until the poison took effect.

In that moment, emotion had lagged behind instinct; his body had been hyper-alert, every sense honed to the fingers clamped around Liu Yuanxun’s throat at the edge of his vision.

He had counted calmly in his mind, his eyes cataloging every detail until he confirmed the toxin had numbed the man’s hand.

With a single command, arrows flew.

He had saved Liu Yuanxun.

The prince was safe now, lying right there before him, but Gu Lianzhao couldn’t shake the feeling. Every time he looked at Liu Yuanxun, illusions flooded his mind.

One moment, he was the man who’d received the message and raced madly to the manor; the next, he was force-feeding himself calm, smearing poison on the painting, trailing silently. His thoughts wouldn’t stop. He felt as if the rescue hadn’t truly succeeded, trapping him in an endless loop.

He had become a bowstring stretched to its breaking point—too taut, too long. Even though the archer had released it, the string remained rigid, unable to slacken.

He didn’t climb into bed or pull Liu Yuanxun into his arms. He didn’t even dare touch the prince’s hand. Instead, he simply draped himself over the bed’s edge like a docile dog, gazing intently at Liu Yuanxun’s face.

His thoughts were still in chaos. Liu Yuanxun’s features fragmented in his vision: one moment, the prince sitting up with a gentle smile; the next, reaching out to him; then suddenly, three sharp, blackened fingers clamping down viciously, shattering Liu Yuanxun’s throat before his eyes.

“No…” His chest seized, agony like a dagger twisting through his heart. But he couldn’t speak; even that single word came out strangled, forced from his throat.

He knew Liu Yuanxun was injured, yet he still needed the prince’s comfort. Only with Liu Yuanxun alive and smiling at him, nestling obediently in his arms, could he break free of the nightmare and return to reality.

Perhaps his desperate wish took shape, or perhaps Liu Yuanxun’s unconsciousness was just momentary shock, but those eyes slowly fluttered open under his gaze.

Liu Yuanxun turned his head slightly. The searing pain in his throat prevented speech, so he let his eyes convey his message. But the man watching him was lost in a daze.

Stunned, helpless, pitiful, and forlorn. Those dark eyes met his, then misted over with dampness that thickened into a tear. With a blink, it fell.

Silent though it was, Liu Yuanxun felt that drop splash into his heart like a soft “plip.”

Unable to speak, he could only twitch his fingers.

Those sluggish eyes slowly shifted to his hand. After a long moment, Gu Lianzhao extended his stiff fingers and clasped them.

For the first time in his life, Liu Yuanxun realized Gu Lianzhao’s hands were cold.

Like blood rushing back to the heart, leaving the limbs chilled and numb—cold and rigid. It took ages after gripping before the hold tightened.

Liu Yuanxun crooked his finger and rasped out a single syllable: “Come.”

Gu Lianzhao stared blankly until the finger in his palm twitched again, and understanding dawned.

He kicked off his boots and climbed slowly onto the bed, kneeling at Liu Yuanxun’s side. Then he leaned down, resting his forehead gently against the prince’s abdomen.

He hadn’t spoken a word throughout—just endless silence and blankness, like a dog abandoned and lost.

Liu Yuanxun raised his hand softly, stroking the slightly coarse strands of Gu Lianzhao’s long hair, over and over. But the gentler his touch, the more fiercely the man against his stomach trembled.

Gradually, the fabric of his abdomen grew damp.

Gu Lianzhao wept without a sound. Liu Yuanxun watched his kneeling, prostrate form and continued stroking the hair trailing down his back, gentle as ever.

He wanted to offer comfort but couldn’t speak, so he let his hands soothe instead. As he did, a thought crystallized in his mind.

Raised in the depths of the palace, he had heard few truths. He despised lies, deception, and needless suspicion.

Few remained by his side, and fewer still puzzled him, so he saw no point in fruitless speculation. If he wanted to know, he would ask.

“A’Qiao.” His hoarse voice summoned the ger, whose eyes were red and swollen, expression shattered.

The naive Liu Yuanxun had traversed searing passion and evaded burning gazes, lying in Gu Lianzhao’s warm embrace all that time without ever linking it to “affection.”

But here, in these cold, damp tears, in this palpable fear, wrapped in boundless complex emotions, he finally recognized a profound care—different from all others, born of deep sorrow.

He gazed at Gu Lianzhao with eyes both complicated and tender, peering as if into his soul.

In their past interactions, Liu Yuanxun had always been the one retreating, backing away instinctively from Gu Lianzhao’s approaches without knowing why.

Now he realized what he’d been fleeing: the man’s feelings.

Gu Lianzhao gazed back.

Those tear-washed eyes still held panic and unease. He said nothing, just watched silently, waiting for Liu Yuanxun to speak.

Liu Yuanxun steadied his breath and asked softly through his bloodied, swollen throat, “A’Qiao… do you like me?”