Wen Qingci’s face was so red it looked as if it might drip blood.
He held his breath, afraid to disturb Xie Bufeng.
In the silence, his senses became extraordinarily sharp.
His body felt as if a faint current was passing through, instantly draining him of strength.
Wen Qingci instinctively let his gaze fall aimlessly into the darkness.
In stark contrast to Wen Qingci, who hardly dared to move, Xie Bufeng’s actions suddenly grew bold.
At some point, Wen Qingci’s outer robe had slipped from his shoulders.
While kissing his forehead, Xie Bufeng gently undid the sash, letting it fall.
The moon-white brocade, shimmering with a cool luster, slipped from his shoulders in an instant.
Like moonlight melting onto the floor.
At this moment, Wen Qingci’s outer robe lay on the ground, his long hair was loose, and a rare nervousness showed in his eyes.
Every faint sound by his ear was magnified a hundredfold.
Wen Qingci saw that the side hall’s main doors were only half-closed.
A narrow gap let in light from the courtyard, and at any moment, someone might push open the door and come in…
Wen Qingci’s mind went blank; he clutched at Xie Bufeng’s chest, trying to push him away.
But his resistance was so light it was negligible to Xie Bufeng.
Just as Wen Qingci thought he would be ignored, Xie Bufeng, against his instincts, struggled to steady his breathing and slowly released his hold.
After a few seconds, he buried his face in Wen Qingci’s loose hair, greedily inhaling that familiar bitter scent.
“Go…” Xie Bufeng said in a muffled voice, forcibly suppressing his desire as he spoke into Wen Qingci’s ear.
Wen Qingci didn’t react for a moment.
Then, a low laugh suddenly sounded by his ear, and Xie Bufeng’s deep, slightly restrained, and helpless voice drifted over: “If you don’t leave now, beloved minister, you must trust me far too much.”
Wen Qingci: “…!”
The flush on his face spread across his whole body.
As an adult, Wen Qingci naturally understood what Xie Bufeng meant.
He immediately got up, grabbed his medicine box, and made to leave.
But the next moment, his instincts from twenty years of medical practice made him pause, and he almost blurted out a reminder to the still-poisoned patient: “Then, Your Majesty…”
Before he could finish, Wen Qingci snapped out of his daze and his mind started working again.
He must be out of his mind-how could he just speak up at a time like this!
In all his years, Wen Qingci had never wanted to call himself “foolish” more than now.
“No, it’s nothing. I’ll take my leave.”
Wen Qingci all but fled.
As he was about to leave the side hall, Xie Bufeng’s voice came again.
“I’ll handle it myself.”
“My beloved minister, you need not worry.”
The echo inside the hall blurred the tone of Xie Bufeng’s voice.
When his words reached Wen Qingci’s ears, there was even a hint of… pity.
The palace doors slowly closed, and everything in the side hall, along with the scent of dragon’s blood incense, temporarily vanished from Wen Qingci’s world.
In his haste to leave, Wen Qingci hadn’t had time to pick up his outer robe.
Now, he wore only a thin summer shirt, and the breeze brought a sudden chill.
He bit his lip and hurried off toward the small courtyard, clutching his medicine box.
But even after returning to his room, he couldn’t calm down.
Wen Qingci’s mind kept drifting back to Xie Bufeng’s last words, wondering just how he intended to “handle it himself.”
…
Song Junran had more or less guessed that Wen Qingci being discovered by Xie Bufeng was likely connected to Steward Zhao.
But, having learned from his mother how little control palace people had over their own fates, he didn’t make things difficult for Steward Zhao. Instead, he simply chalked it up as another grievance against Xie Bufeng.
Though not related by blood, Steward Zhao was like an uncle to Song Junran.
After paying respects in the countryside, Steward Zhao invited Song Junran to stay at his residence for a while.
Song Junran didn’t refuse.
“Young master, try this. There shouldn’t be any planted near Songxiu Manor,” Steward Zhao said with a smile, taking the fruit platter from a servant and setting it on the table.
Song Junran followed his gaze.
On the white porcelain plate was a bunch of small, glistening fruits, washed until they shone like amethysts.
Steward Zhao was right-Song Junran had never seen this before.
Curious, he picked one up. “What is this?”
Steward Zhao didn’t answer directly. “Taste it first.”
As a man of the martial world, Song Junran wasn’t one for false modesty.
“If that’s the case, I won’t stand on ceremony.”
With that, his curiosity piqued, he popped the fruit into his mouth and bit down.
A sweet and sour burst instantly filled his mouth.
The taste made Song Junran’s eyes light up. He asked, “Is this a Yongdu specialty too?”
“No, no,” Steward Zhao shook his head. “This is an imperial gift. In all of Yongdu, you’d only find it in the palace. It can’t really be called a ‘local specialty.’”
…So this was something Xie Bufeng had sent.
Suddenly, the fruit in Song Junran’s mouth didn’t taste so sweet anymore.
Having spent most of his life in the palace, Steward Zhao immediately caught the look of distaste in Song Junran’s eyes.
He sighed and got to the real point.
Steward Zhao said softly, “I know what’s weighing on your mind, young master.”
“So Steward Zhao is here today as a persuader?” Song Junran didn’t spare his feelings, his words blunt. “I suppose you’d already planned the whole grave visit as well.”
His junior might be skilled in medicine, but when it came to human relationships-especially matters of the heart-he was utterly clueless.
How could he possibly be a match for Xie Bufeng?
“No, no,” Steward Zhao hurriedly waved his hands to explain for Xie Bufeng. “His Highness didn’t send me. What I just said was entirely my own idea.”
“Fine, in that case, I won’t beat around the bush,” Song Junran said, sipping cold tea. “You may not know my junior well, but I grew up with him-I know how stubborn he is, how he clings to his principles.”
Steward Zhao nodded.
“Xie Bufeng is the emperor. If he gets tired of someone, he can walk away at any time. But Qingci can’t. Besides… you know better than I do how nasty things can get in the palace.”
At this, Song Junran ground his teeth. “And besides, what he’s done is completely beyond the pale!”
The scene at the Yin River Grand Canal was burned into Song Junran’s memory, a shadow he could never shake.
Steward Zhao shook his head slowly. “…His Majesty does think differently from most. But it’s understandable-he grew up in the imperial mausoleum, never bound by rules or etiquette as a child. He’s always done as he pleased.”
Song Junran said nothing.
At this point, Steward Zhao picked up a grape and chewed it thoughtfully.
He closed his eyes and said quietly, “In my view, His Majesty has never seen himself as emperor in front of Physician Wen.”
Song Junran finally looked up. “What do you mean? Then what does Xie Bufeng see himself as?”
“…In His Majesty’s eyes, he’s probably always that youth whom Physician Wen took in at the Imperial Medical Bureau.”
In front of Wen Qingci, he seemed to always forget his own immense power.
And he could never be as heartless as an “emperor,” able to walk away at will.
“They’ve lived together day and night for so long, and started out as enemies,” Steward Zhao’s cloudy brown eyes turned to Song Junran, his voice raspy. “Do you really think Physician Wen doesn’t know who His Majesty is, or how dangerous he can be?”
After a moment of silence, Song Junran smiled and lowered his eyes, popping another grape into his mouth.
Although Xie Bufeng wouldn’t let him see Wen Qingci, afraid he’d “smuggle” him out of Taishu Palace like before, he hadn’t blocked all information.
So, naturally, Song Junran had heard about what was happening at the Imperial Medical Bureau.
The sweet and sour juice filled his mouth.
He swallowed, and after a long silence, finally said:
“Life is short.”
“…I haven’t figured out my own life, so how could I make decisions for someone else?”
Song Junran tossed another grape into his mouth, chewing slowly as he gazed outside.
“No one can stop my junior from doing what he wants. If he chooses to stay, not even the gods could change his mind,” Song Junran paused, then changed his tone, “But if he doesn’t want to stay, I’ll definitely take him home-and no one will ever find him again.”
Song Junran’s words immediately reminded Steward Zhao of Wen Qingci’s quest for revenge.
“All right, all right,” Steward Zhao paused for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Young master is right. For now, all we can do is give him some time. In my opinion, His Majesty toward Physician Wen-”
He broke off, glancing uncertainly at Song Junran.
“That’s enough,” Song Junran grabbed a handful of grapes, giving Steward Zhao a half-smile, “If you want to speak up for Xie Bufeng, there’s no need to beat around the bush.”
“For him to make you willingly speak well of him… that’s quite a skill…”
Although palace eunuchs dealt with royalty and nobility every day, their monthly salaries barely allowed them to get by in Yongdu.
Steward Zhao’s residence on the outskirts of the capital wasn’t large, but it was newly renovated.
That wasn’t something he could have managed on his own means.
And it wasn’t just Steward Zhao’s house.
It was only in recent days, on a whim, when Song Junran revisited old haunts, that he learned this:
After he closed his medical clinic in Yongdu, Xie Bufeng had taken it over.
Xie Bufeng hadn’t changed a thing in the clinic.
Instead, he maintained it carefully, keeping it exactly as it was.
Song Junran also knew… Xie Bufeng was using imperial authority to publicize what Wen Qingci had done in Lianhe, subtly guiding public acceptance.
With the strength of the most powerful hands in the world behind it,
many people had now grown curious about his junior’s methods.
This was, in fact, what his junior had always wished for most.
Anything involving Wen Qingci had always been kept close to Xie Bufeng’s heart.
As emperor, he was doing everything possible to keep Wen Qingci.
But at the same time, he didn’t dare speak of it, for fear of startling him.
——————————
“…Why so quiet? How’s the medicine?”
“Is something wrong?”
Seeing Wen Qingci staring blankly at the finished decoction and saying nothing for a long time, the young imperial physician delivering the medicine couldn’t help but grow anxious.
Finally, unable to resist, he reached out and lightly patted Wen Qingci’s shoulder.
“…Hmm?”
Wen Qingci finally came back to his senses.
Because of the veil, the young physician couldn’t see Wen Qingci’s expression.
So he asked again, “You’ve been staring at the decoction without saying a word-was today’s medicine not prepared properly?”
“No, I was just distracted… thinking about something else.” As he spoke, Wen Qingci took the medicine out of the food box and set it on the tray.
As he moved, his sleeve slipped down.
The next second, both Wen Qingci and the young physician saw that his fingertips were tinged faintly red.
“Cough, cough.” Wen Qingci gave a couple of light coughs and tucked his hand back into his sleeve.
“All right, as long as the medicine’s fine, I’m relieved.” After a pause, the young physician tidied up the empty food box and said meaningfully, “You seem to be distracted a lot lately.”
“Is it because of His Majesty?” he suddenly leaned in and asked, a bit gossipy.
