BLPSG Chapter 87.1

Several ornately decorated double-canopy carriages slowly entered Yongdu.

 

The bronze bells at the corners of the carriages gently swayed with each bump, emitting melodious, crisp sounds.

 

Hearing these sounds from afar, commoners on the road scattered to both sides of the street.

 

The late summer heat persisted, and the noisy cicadas along with the clamor from the streets forcibly dragged people back into the mundane world.

 

The carriages passed through the palace gates without stopping. By the time Wen Qingci realized it, the familiar courtyard gates of the Imperial Medical Bureau had appeared before his eyes.

 

Slightly different from his memory, the palace pathway outside the courtyard was now filled with guards.

 

“His Majesty is temporarily residing here. Please come this way.”

 

The attendant placed the mounting stool properly, clasped his hands and bowed toward the inside of the carriage.

 

After a few breaths, pale, slender fingers gently lifted the carriage curtain.

 

Pausing for a moment, Wen Qingci slowly raised his eyes past the attendant to look at the familiar building in the distance.

 

In the late summer season, a hundred-year-old magnolia stood tall in the courtyard, presenting a scene of deep green to the eye.

 

Under the tree, the building with its red pillars and carved rafters exuded elegance in every detail.

 

As a gentle breeze passed by, it stirred the bird-startling bells, producing a sound… that had long been engraved in his heart.

 

Wen Qingci couldn’t help feeling dazed for a moment.

 

…Everything was reminding him that he had ultimately returned to Yongdu.

 

Although he had already made up his mind long ago, once Song Junran stepped into this palace, he couldn’t help but recall what happened to his parents… and the image of Wen Qingci covered in blood last year.

 

This palace was connected to all of his nightmares.

 

Before the carriage had fully stopped, Song Junran leaped down and strode quickly toward Wen Qingci.

 

Unexpectedly, the next moment, an attendant slowly raised his hand to stop Song Junran.

 

The man clasped his hands in a slightly embarrassed salute and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, but His Majesty specifically requested the physician wearing the veiled hat for consultation. We will escort you to other palace chambers to rest shortly. I hope you understand.”

 

Song Junran frowned in response.

 

At this moment, Wen Qingci also stepped down using the mounting stool.

 

He slowly turned his head and said to the worried Song Junran, “Don’t worry, senior brother. I will handle this matter properly.”

 

Wen Qingci’s voice was gentle and composed, as if he had already made up his mind.

 

…Although his junior brother was usually quite agreeable most of the time, once he had decided to do something, no one could stop him.

 

For example, when he had insisted on entering the palace to seek revenge years ago.

 

Song Junran couldn’t help but sigh softly.

 

“…Alright, but remember what I told you earlier.” He briefly reminded Wen Qingci a couple more things, then finally followed the attendant to another palace building.

 

The carriage, accompanied by the sound of bells, departed from the Imperial Medical Bureau.

 

Without obstruction, the palace pathway suddenly opened up.

 

“Sir, this way, please—”

 

Seeing Song Junran leave, the attendant standing to the side finally breathed a sigh of relief. He hurriedly stepped forward to lead Wen Qingci inside.

 

“Alright.”

 

The warm late summer breeze carried the white gauze of the veiled hat, brushing past Wen Qingci’s cheek.

 

Like a gentle caress.

 

The moment he stepped through the gates of the Imperial Medical Bureau.

 

Wen Qingci involuntarily looked up at where the door plaque should be.

 

The place where the wooden plaque with the three characters “Yao Sheng Chen” (Medicine Produces Dust) used to hang was now empty.

 

Clearly, this courtyard had indeed been repurposed as people had said.

 

Wen Qingci instinctively held his breath.

 

For the first twenty years of his life, he had lived for revenge.

 

Practicing medicine and planning to enter the palace had been his entire life.

 

After regaining his memories, he had been fully occupied with dealing with the plague, with no time to consider other matters.

 

As mature as he was in medicine, he was equally naive in matters of love.

 

It wasn’t until he boarded the carriage back to Yongdu, with the rare few days of leisure on the journey, that Wen Qingci was finally forced to calm down and think clearly—

 

His return to Yongdu was not solely to treat Xie Bufeng’s illness.

 

As a physician, Wen Qingci ordinarily used every possible method to investigate the root causes of diseases.

 

Not only to cure the sick and save lives but also to comfort every departed soul, so they wouldn’t die in confusion.

 

“Clarity” was more important than anything else to him as a physician.

 

Therefore, the only thing Wen Qingci could be certain of now was: he refused to live this life in a muddle-headed way.

 

Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but clench his jaw.

 

Avoidance could not solve any problem.

 

Wen Qingci had already realized that Xie Bufeng was perhaps… different to him.

 

But what exactly was this “difference”?

 

The instinct cultivated from twenty years of practicing medicine forced Wen Qingci to stay clear-headed and get to the root of the matter.

 

Having died once before, he was especially aware of life’s fragility and impermanence.

 

This time, Wen Qingci wanted to give himself a chance to figure out clearly what his feelings toward Xie Bufeng… actually were.

 

*

 

“This palace complex was originally the Imperial Medical Bureau,” said the attendant while leading Wen Qingci inside, “therefore the entire complex is divided into front and rear courtyards… His Majesty has been handling state affairs in the front courtyard.”

 

“Recently while recovering from illness, he’s also been in the side hall.”

 

Wen Qingci nodded slowly.

 

Although the Imperial Medical Bureau wasn’t large, its architecture was exquisite, unlike most palace complexes in Taishu Palace which had symmetrical structures.

 

Just as they were talking, they walked to the edge of a fork in the path.

 

The attendant raised his hand, about to direct Wen Qingci.

 

Unexpectedly, Wen Qingci turned very naturally and headed toward the location of the side hall.

 

This…

 

The attendant was momentarily stunned.

 

How did this physician seem so familiar with the layout of the Imperial Medical Bureau?

 

With no time to think further, they had already arrived at the entrance of the side hall.

 

The attendant paused briefly, turned around and bowed to Wen Qingci again: “This way, sir. His Majesty is waiting for you here. Please go in and check his pulse directly.”

 

“Check his pulse immediately upon entering?” Wen Qingci couldn’t help but ask.

 

Was Xie Bufeng’s illness that serious?

 

The attendant nodded truthfully: “Yes, sir.”

 

As he spoke, he placed his hand on the lattice of the wooden door.

 

As soon as his words fell, the wooden door carved with floral decorations creaked open.

 

The next moment, a faint fragrance of incense mixed with the heavy scent of medicine wafted toward them.

 

Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous, it’s just checking a pulse.

 

After hesitating for a moment and mentally preparing himself, Wen Qingci finally took a breath, gripped the handle of his medicine box tightly, and walked in.

 

The attendant had withdrawn at some point, slowly closing the carved wooden door.

 

The world before Wen Qingci’s eyes suddenly darkened.

 

Despite having visited the side hall of the Imperial Medical Bureau countless times, standing here now, Wen Qingci felt strangely unfamiliar.

 

His footsteps halted involuntarily; only after his eyes adjusted slightly to the darkness did he step forward again.

 

In the spacious side hall, only the sound of Wen Qingci’s footsteps echoed repeatedly.

 

His heart seemed to leap into his throat at this moment.

 

Wen Qingci walked forward, relying on his memory.

 

The ambergris incense in the hall had somehow become stronger.

 

The side hall of the Imperial Medical Bureau wasn’t large.

 

But now with doors and windows tightly shut, taking half a step inward made vision grow darker.

 

With the veiled hat obstructing his view, after just a few steps, Wen Qingci was practically groping forward in darkness.

 

He vaguely sensed a long staircase before him.

 

Recalling what the attendant had said before leaving, Wen Qingci hesitated, but ultimately gathered his courage and slowly ascended the stairs.

 

Fear stems from the unknown.

 

He had mentally prepared himself before coming.

 

But now with his vision forcibly stripped away, alone in darkness, Wen Qingci couldn’t help feeling tense, even afraid.

 

— In this moment, he was like a lamb walking toward the altar.

 

Just as this thought surfaced, Wen Qingci’s forehead suddenly touched something unfamiliarly cold. His nerves, taut all this time, finally gave way as he cried out: “Ah!”

 

Simultaneously, his body shuddered heavily, and he instinctively retreated to the bottom of the staircase.

 

Then, Wen Qingci’s ears suddenly heard a crackling sound, like heavy rain falling rapidly.

 

He began to breathe heavily involuntarily.

 

After steadying himself, Wen Qingci finally realized that what he had accidentally bumped into seemed to be a beaded curtain.

 

“…Y-Your Majesty?” Wen Qingci called out tentatively while adjusting his breathing.

 

His voice floated through the side hall, receiving no reply until it faded away.

 

After a pause, Wen Qingci had to gather his courage once more: “Your Majesty, are you here?”

 

There was still silence around Wen Qingci.

 

Was Xie Bufeng truly unconscious from illness?

 

What should he do now?

 

No one answered for a long time in the room.

 

After hesitating for a while, Wen Qingci had no choice but to take another deep breath, pick up his medicine box, and go forward.

 

The wooden staircase made soft sounds with Wen Qingci’s footsteps.

 

The ambergris scent at the tip of his nose grew stronger.

 

He climbed the stairs again, stopped near the beaded curtain, placed the medicine box aside, and groped around looking for a lamp stand.

 

However, at this moment—

 

A light sound emerged once more by Wen Qingci’s ear.

 

The beaded curtain was suddenly parted by someone!

 

Wen Qingci instinctively wanted to retreat.

 

At the same time, he forcibly clenched his jaw, swallowing his exclamation.

 

But by the time he reacted, it was already too late.

 

The not-so-gentle ambergris scent, like a fierce wind, swept over him at this moment.

 

Before Wen Qingci could dodge, the supposedly seriously ill new emperor slowly extended his hand through the beaded curtain toward him.

 

Like a venomous snake lurking in the forest, in silence, he twined the white gauze of the veiled hat around his fingertips.

 

Wen Qingci’s breathing became completely chaotic.

 

The fingers of his right hand instinctively clutched his wide sleeve.

 

He only vaguely sensed… that person’s finger pads, cold as a snake’s tongue, were caressing the gauze veil.

 

Wen Qingci closed his eyes.

 

After a few moments’ pause, the snake seemed somewhat reluctant to end its caress of its prey.

 

He slowly raised his hand, gradually unwinding the veiled hat.

 

The white gauze brushed against Wen Qingci’s cheek, sliding off and falling to the ground with a soft sound.

 

That face was finally completely exposed to the eyes of the person behind the curtain.

 

Eyelashes as thick and long as raven feathers trembled lightly with Wen Qingci’s breathing.

 

Below his straight, fine nose were thin lips tinged with a light redness.

 

…The cinnabar mark on his forehead was still that vibrant red.

 

Behind the beaded curtain, the person whose eyes had long adjusted to the darkness was greedily tracing his features with his gaze.

 

The next moment, Wen Qingci’s left hand, which hung limply at his side, was suddenly gently taken by someone.

 

Their fingers intertwined intimately.

 

“—Let go, Xie Bufeng!”

 

Wen Qingci finally couldn’t bear it anymore and called out that name.

 

---

T/N: picking this up~