The world beneath the bed curtains was small and dim.
A thin early autumn quilt covered their bodies.
Long, strong fingers and lips waged their own campaign, sending shivers through them both.
“Your Majesty, don’t…”
Until Wen Qingci’s dark eyes grew misty, and the bitter fragrance filled the bed curtains.
His left hand weakly clenched the cotton bedding, then released it.
Finally, Xie Bufeng stopped, suppressing himself as he pulled Wen Qingci tightly into his embrace.
*
The Jinyi Palace, used as the “Imperial Study,” was finally renovated.
The Imperial Medical Bureau also moved back at this time.
The wooden plaque at the gate, inscribed with the characters “Medicine Gathers Dust,” was slowly hung back in place.
Everything returned to how it once was.
Even livelier than before.
Several rooms in the front courtyard, once used for storing medicinal herbs, were now set with tables and transformed into a medical academy.
The tables were not arranged in the usual way, all facing one direction, but placed facing each other.
At the end of summer, the air was tinged with chill.
Rain dripped steadily outside, and the window framed a lush, unbroken green.
“…I’m really sorry to trouble you, Physician Wen,” a young medical scholar beside Wen Qingci said awkwardly. “You’re always so busy, and yet I can’t even manage this small task and have to bother you.” The more he spoke, the more embarrassed he became.
Wen Qingci smiled and shook his head gently. “It’s nothing. Drawing is never mastered in a day.”
“Yes, yes-” the scholar nodded quickly.
He’d only joined the Imperial Medical Bureau last autumn and had only heard vague rumors about Wen Qingci before.
When first assigned to copy “Relieving Calamity in the Apricot Grove,” he’d been a little afraid of Wen Qingci.
But after a few days working together, he realized Wen Qingci was nothing like the rumors.
In fact, his looks, character, and temper were all first-rate.
…No wonder His Majesty likes him!
Thinking this, he couldn’t help but glance at Wen Qingci again.
Wen Qingci was holding a fine wolf-hair brush, carefully tracing illustrations from “Relieving Calamity in the Apricot Grove.”
His movements were unhurried, the drawings delicate and vivid.
Seeing the images take shape under his hand, the scholar held his breath, not daring to speak further.
The academy was now fully renovated, and in a few days, Wen Qingci would begin teaching.
But before that, the opening chapters of “Relieving Calamity in the Apricot Grove” had to be copied out.
A few scholars had managed to finish the text in two or three days.
But the accompanying illustrations weren’t so easily reproduced.
In the end, after some hesitation, they’d come to ask Wen Qingci for help.
And he really did make time to draw them all out, one by one.
Everyone in the room held their breath; for a while, it was utterly quiet.
Until the faint sound of voices drifted in from the courtyard, and someone finally looked outside.
-Xie Bufeng, still in his dragon robe from court, had come to the Imperial Medical Bureau.
Though this had become routine in Taishu Palace, the young physicians were still startled.
They hurriedly straightened up, ready to step forward and bow, but Xie Bufeng simply waved his hand and walked straight in.
The young emperor in dark robes stood at the table, lowering his gaze to look at the papers with everyone else.
The physicians who had gathered around Wen Qingci immediately straightened up, eyes downcast, trying to look composed.
Yet Wen Qingci, sitting behind the desk, never looked up, as if he hadn’t noticed another person had entered the hall.
Why hasn’t Physician Wen noticed His Majesty yet?
The physicians couldn’t help but feel anxious on Xie Bufeng’s behalf.
Was he really that absorbed in his drawing?
After nearly half a cup of tea’s time, Wen Qingci finally finished the lung anatomy illustration, paused, and set down his brush.
At some point, the emperor’s tall figure had deliberately blocked the sunlight coming in from the hall, casting a shadow over the paper.
…Xie Bufeng’s behavior was, inexplicably, a bit childish.
“Your Majesty, you’re here.”
Wen Qingci looked up at Xie Bufeng and, smiling, gave him a playful wink.
Xie Bufeng’s composure wavered, and he couldn’t help but look away, forcing himself to say coolly, “You’re so diligent, beloved, even copying illustrations yourself.”
His tone sounded normal at first, but everyone in the room could hear the faint note of jealousy.
…Xie Bufeng was complaining that Wen Qingci hadn’t greeted him first.
Wen Qingci, with his inner strength, had of course noticed Xie Bufeng long ago.
But he couldn’t afford to be distracted while drawing anatomical diagrams, so he hadn’t looked up until he finished.
Wen Qingci played along: “That was my oversight.”
“Never mind,” Xie Bufeng glanced toward the open side room, “I hear the medical academy is ready. Show me around, will you?”
Growing up in the imperial mausoleum, Xie Bufeng had always acted mature for his age.
But now, as emperor, he acted like a child in front of Wen Qingci.
At his words, the physicians at the table immediately dispersed, tacitly clearing a path for Wen Qingci, exchanging excited and nervous glances.
They didn’t see that, as soon as Wen Qingci stepped away from the desk, Xie Bufeng deliberately slowed his pace.
And when the two walked side by side, the emperor used his wide sleeve as cover to tightly hold Physician Wen’s hand in his palm, even giving it a gentle, almost punishing squeeze.
…
The autumn rain hadn’t stopped, and a faint earthy scent drifted with the moisture.
Xie Bufeng held an umbrella, leading Wen Qingci through the small courtyard to the room opposite.
The academy was large, but sparsely furnished.
Several tables were set up, one displaying hand-drawn anatomical diagrams.
Behind them were a few illustrations of medicinal herbs.
The ink on the sketchbooks was still a bit damp, clearly drawn just moments ago.
“…Did you draw these as well?” Xie Bufeng slowly picked up an illustration.
The drawings were realistic and exquisite-more works of art than simple references.
Though he politely called him “beloved,” Xie Bufeng still refused to let go of Wen Qingci’s right hand.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Wen Qingci followed his gaze, his cheeks tinged pink from Xie Bufeng’s touch.
“Did you learn to draw in the Valley of Divine Physicians?” Xie Bufeng couldn’t help wanting to know more about Wen Qingci.
But Wen Qingci didn’t answer immediately, pausing for a few breaths.
In the quiet, the sound of rain grew even clearer.
It beat against the ground, shattering on impact.
The chill from the rain seemed to seep into Wen Qingci’s bones.
“No,” Wen Qingci’s voice was as gentle as ever, but now carried a faint sadness and nostalgia, as if lost in memory. “…It was my father who taught me, when I was a child.”
Family and Shanyu Jian were scars on Wen Qingci’s heart.
He had never thought he would one day bring them up himself.
Maybe it was today’s autumn rain that drew out old memories.
Or maybe it was the warmth of the hand holding his.
Wen Qingci suddenly let himself sink into memories so beautiful they could burn him.
“…Shanyu Jian lies at the foot of Eyan Mountain. Most people make a living growing medicinal herbs, but my family was a bit different.”
Xie Bufeng gently tightened his grip on Wen Qingci’s hand.
In the autumn rain, that moon-white figure looked especially fragile.
Wen Qingci smiled as he recalled, “We moved to Shanyu Jian from elsewhere and didn’t have much land, so most of the time we had to go up the mountain to gather herbs. From a very young age, I would go with my father into Eyan Mountain. He’d help me find herbs and then teach me to draw them in a sketchbook. Only after all the drawings were done would we pick them.”
He struggled to lift his left hand and gently brushed it over the illustrations.
His movements were incredibly gentle.
Though Songxiu Manor was wealthy, Wen Qingci’s family was not.
But every time they went up the mountain, his father never rushed to pick herbs, instead spending most of his energy teaching him to identify plants.
Before that epidemic, Wen Qingci had never known the world’s cruelty.
In Shanyu Jian, people worked at sunrise and rested at sunset, just like in the idyllic tales…
At last, Wen Qingci sighed softly, a hint of regret in his voice: “It’s a pity I was too young then to erect a gravestone. Now, even if I want to pay my respects, I don’t know where to go.”
His jet-black eyes were filled with a sorrow that wouldn’t fade.
All of Xie Bufeng’s feelings stemmed from Wen Qingci.
Having grown up alone in the imperial mausoleum, he was slow to understand family affection.
Yet through Wen Qingci’s eyes, Xie Bufeng could understand it all.
He pulled Wen Qingci into his arms and whispered by his ear, “…How about we go together to Shanyu Jian, find the graves, and pay respects to your family?”
The bone-deep chill brought by the autumn rain was instantly dispelled.
Wen Qingci hurriedly shook his head. “That’s really not necessary-it would be far too much trouble.”
In recent days, Wen Qingci had heard from others that last year, Xie Bufeng had spent a great deal of time locating Song Junran’s family’s graves and restoring the area.
He instinctively thought Xie Bufeng wanted to send people to Shanyu Jian as well.
But in that little village, he was the only survivor; finding the graves would be incredibly difficult.
“I won’t,” Xie Bufeng gently patted Wen Qingci’s back and shook his head. “It’ll just be the two of us.”
“…Just the two of us.”
Wen Qingci’s breath caught.
Just him and Xie Bufeng, going to see his parents?
Xie Bufeng’s words had made his meaning clear, even for someone slow to catch on.
“I want to meet them,” Xie Bufeng said, his voice suddenly cautious and a little nervous, “but not as an emperor.” He hinted ambiguously by Wen Qingci’s ear.
Xie Bufeng’s heart pounded heavily in his chest.
He was the Son of Heaven, holding the world’s highest status.
But to him, none of that compared to this other role-one that was far more tempting and important.
He had shared a bed and pillow with Wen Qingci, had come so close to the final step…
But that wasn’t all Xie Bufeng wanted.
The ruler of the world gently bit Wen Qingci’s earlobe and whispered, “So, my beloved, when will you give me a proper place by your side?”
His voice was tinged with a faint nasal tone, sounding as calm as ever at first.
After speaking, Xie Bufeng finally released Wen Qingci’s earlobe and nuzzled his neck twice.
Wen Qingci’s heartbeat was instantly thrown into chaos.
And at that moment, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind… Why wait for a special day? Why not just choose today?
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Married to an empty coffin done. Now it should be marrying the living person hehe 🤭