BHB chapter 8

 

Prince Rui shivered.

He was at Shoukang Palace, visiting the Empress Dowager.

A few days ago, she had caught a cold and was coughing. After finding out, Prince Rui repeatedly submitted petitions and was finally granted permission to enter the palace today.

“My son, my illness will infect you too.” The Empress Dowager covered her mouth with a handkerchief, coughed a few times, and leaned back, afraid that Prince Rui might fall ill as well.

She was over forty, but still a beautiful woman.

Only faint smile lines appeared at the corners of her eyes, and her voice was gentle.

Prince Rui came to his senses, shook his head, and smiled. “Mother, your son is strong. How could he fall ill so easily? Don’t worry too much. Please take care of yourself. With the New Year approaching and no empress in the harem, everyone relies on you to handle matters.”

Upon hearing this, the Empress Dowager’s expression grew more serious.

“I’ve tried several times, but the emperor still refuses to appoint an empress. Do you think he truly doesn’t want to, or is it that…?”

Prince Rui said, “Mother, no matter what my brother thinks, as long as there’s no empress, the power lies in your hands, which works in your favor.”

The Empress Dowager’s face turned grim at the mention of Emperor Jingyuan.

No surprise. Shoukang Palace looked grand, but it wasn’t orthodox. Throughout history, which empress dowager didn’t live in Cining Palace?

“The emperor has a harsh temperament, and none of the civil or military officials are pleased. If he continues like this, hmph, I’d like to see how long he can last.” Her voice grew cold.

Prince Rui patted the Empress Dowager’s hand to comfort her. “Mother, don’t worry. Everyone sees your hard work.”

“Even though I didn’t want him to marry into a wealthy family, I wasn’t cruel to him. Yet, he treats me like an enemy,” said the Empress Dowager, frowning. “Forget it. Why bother thinking about it? It turns out that he isn’t my own flesh and blood, so I can’t rely on him at all. Now, I can only rely on you.”

Prince Rui softly replied, “Don’t say such things carelessly in the palace.”

“This is my Shoukang Palace, not the Emperor’s Qianming Palace.” The Empress Dowager withdrew her hand and slowly reclined onto the soft couch, her expression full of sarcasm. “He only got to the throne because the previous emperor died suddenly. Otherwise…”

There was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

One rises to heaven; the other falls to hell.

The power shift had been earth-shattering, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Prince Rui lowered his eyes, filled with disappointment.

After all, before their father’s death, he had hinted at something in his words. Had no unexpected events occurred, the position of crown prince would have been his.

However, after a single visit, their father fell seriously ill and couldn’t speak. His mother panicked and didn’t know how to seize the moment and make plans. Helian Duan had made preparations, but he hadn’t expected the emperor to die so soon. All his efforts went to waste.

Without a will or spoken decree, no official dared to bypass Helian Rong, the legitimate eldest son, and let Helian Duan ascend the throne. He could only watch as Helian Rong became emperor and he became the Thirteenth Prince, titled Rui.

Helian Duan became emperor and Helian Rong became a minister.

How could Prince Rui be content with that?

If he had just a bit more time back then, he might have succeeded.

Hiding his ambition, Prince Rui gave the Empress Dowager some instructions and left the palace before noon.

After boarding the carriage, he closed his eyes.

A personal guard, disguised as a servant, approached and whispered, “Your Highness, Chen Xuanming has been rescued. A corpse with facial injuries was used to replace him. He is already recorded as dead on the exile list.”

Prince Rui laughed. “Very good.”

It was excellent indeed.

Although he had been reborn and awakened at an inopportune time—after Emperor Jingyuan had ascended the throne—he was still confident.

With his knowledge of future events, how could he be killed like in his past life?

He had to take back everything that was rightfully his!

…

“Ha, ha—”

In the Bei Fang, in the eunuchs’ quarters, on the bed by the door, someone was curled up. He was lying on his side, his head not even visible, tightly wrapped in blankets as if he were asleep.

When Wuyou came in, he heard Jingzhe sneeze.

“Jingzhe, you’re sick. You need to eat more.” Wuyou brought him two bird’s nests and set them on Jingzhe’s arm, afraid they’d get cold. “Are you getting up or not? If not, I’m going to pull your blanket off.”

Wuyou got along well with Changshou and Jingzhe. He was the cheerful type who lived freely without much calculation.

Jingzhe heard Wuyou’s footsteps and reluctantly lifted the blanket, revealing his red face and messy hair. He looked rather silly.

Wuyou burst out laughing.

He rarely saw Jingzhe in such a state.

Jingzhe looked sluggish with watery eyes and a slightly red nose, as if he had a mild fever. After laughing, Wuyou pulled up a stool, sighed, and started spoon-feeding him.

“What’s going on in Bei Fang lately? Accidents keep happening—Nanny Ming, Lady Yao… Now you’re sick, too. If this keeps up, should we start praying to the gods to dispel the bad luck?”

He mumbled.

Yao Cairen passed away yesterday, and the other palace servants were handling the funeral arrangements. If Jingzhe weren’t sick, he would have gone too. Wuyou took the opportunity to check in with Mingyu and then returned to feed Jingzhe.

Sure enough, Jingzhe hadn’t gotten up at all.

Jingzhe mechanically chewed a few bites and asked, “What happened with Yao Cairen’s case?”

“What else could happen?” Wuyou sighed. “It’s just like that. They said it was suicide. The Empress Dowager gifted a coffin and silver. I think that means the coffin can be kept for seven days before being sent to the underground palace. That’s pretty decent.”

Since Yao Cairen had moved to Bei Fang but was still a former consort, the coffin couldn’t stay there. The Empress Dowager was thoughtful and designated a special palace to store the coffin. However, it couldn’t enter the main hall, so it was placed in a side hall.

These days, people in Bei Fang were bound to be busy.

Wuyou fed Jingzhe two more bites, then noticed that he loosened his blanket, reached out, and said somewhat shyly, “I’ll eat it myself.”

Wuyou beamed. “It’s fine. I’ll just feed you a few more bites.”

He fed Jingzhe all the food, then stared at him seriously. The more he looked, though, the more worried he became.

“Jingzhe, don’t hide it from me. Are you really sick?”

He reached out to touch Jingzhe, but Jingzhe instinctively leaned away and tensed up.

Jingzhe’s breathing trembled slightly. He forced a smile and shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

Wuyou looked skeptical. “You’re really fine?” If he were fine, why was his face turning redder under his gaze, as if he had a fever?

Jingzhe gripped the bowl so tightly that he nearly crushed it, leaving deep marks on his fingers. He tried to control his breathing, not letting it get too fast and arouse suspicion.

… Could you please stop staring?

At first, Jingzhe hadn’t realized how terrible the buff was.

Last night, someone tapped his shoulder, and it just felt like a strange tingling sensation. He rolled over to cover his face and fell asleep.

But this morning, when he went out to fetch water, nearly everyone he passed greeted him, even some palace maids who usually ignored eunuchs.

Everyone stared at him.

Stared. Eyes.

-“Stared.”

Jingzhe fully realized the horrifying consequences of this.

Under so many gazes, his body became so sensitive that he couldn’t tolerate his clothes. The slightest touch of coarse cloth against his skin triggered tiny tremors.

His expression changed drastically, and he immediately pretended to be ill.

Seeing him red-faced, breathing hard, and hot to the touch, everyone believed it. Except for Changshou, who muttered a few things, everyone urged him to rest.

Jingzhe forced himself to report to Chen Mingde, then retreated to his quarters, where he lay down until now.

Avoiding eye contact with others helped cool the rising heat.

But he couldn’t suppress the intense physical sensitivity. If Wuyou hadn’t come, Jingzhe could’ve remained rigid until nightfall.

Now, Wuyou was worried that Jingzhe was seriously ill. He refused to leave and continued to stare, unaware that his gaze was torturing Jingzhe.

Just as Jingzhe could barely hold back from stopping him, someone called from outside the door.

“Wuyou, hurry up! What are you doing?”

It was Changshou, who had come back to pack up Yao Cairen’s things and had called Wuyou away.

Wuyou glanced outside, turned, and frowned. “You’d better rest well. I’ll ask Mingyu to bring you some hot soup later.”

Jingzhe watched him leave with all his strength. Once the room was empty, he collapsed onto the bed.

He covered his mouth, trembling twice as his legs curled involuntarily and his bare feet rubbed against the blanket, revealing his suppressed desire.

When Jingzhe realized what he was doing, his face turned pale.

If this continued, wouldn’t his identity be exposed?

He struggled to get up, changed his clothes, shoes, and socks, and wrapped himself so tightly that not even his fingers showed. Then, he staggered outside.

The cold and snow outside made Jingzhe feel more awake and better than when he stayed indoors.

He pulled his hat brim down to cover his face.

Due to the significant incident, most people in Bei Fang were busy preparing for Yao Cairen’s funeral. Even Nanny Ming and Chen Mingde were nowhere to be found. Only He Ye remained to serve the masters, but she wasn’t near the outer houses.

Jingzhe walked to a narrow doorway. It was closed, but not locked.

Maybe Jingzhe could hold out tonight when everyone returned. However, if Mingyu, Wuyou, or others came by often to talk and check on him, Jingzhe would surely collapse.

Three days… Today was only day two.

He had to last one more day.

Thinking about how long today would be, Jingzhe felt a bitter taste in his mouth.

Where could he hide?

He touched the rough wooden door, and at that light touch, the door swung open. He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms to suppress the strange heat coursing through him.

He couldn’t touch anything anymore.

What kind of broken body was this? What kind of broken body was this?

He breathed heavily, inhaling and exhaling deeply to organize his thoughts.

Most of Bei Fang had left to watch over Yao Cairen’s coffin. Only a few could return tonight, and perhaps none would.

Even if they spent the night at another palace, getting caught would be a hassle.

He might as well stay in Bei Fang, pretend to be sick, and refuse to get up.

However, going back to that bed made Jingzhe feel worse. He might as well stay outside in the cold before it got dark to keep himself awake.

He pushed the door open, stumbled, and sat on the threshold, curling up.

The snow kept falling, covering his body.

His breath still steamed. Footsteps approached from a distance, sounding familiar.

Jingzhe thought tiredly as he knelt: Who’s back? He should get up and go back.

No.

The footsteps…

Jingzhe suddenly looked up and met a cold gaze.

Rong Jiu, who hadn’t been seen in a long time, looked down at him. His voice was calm but carried a hint of curiosity. “What are you doing out here?”

Rong Jiu stared at him.

Jingzhe gripped his arms so tightly that his fingers trembled.

He never imagined he would become so sensitive to others’ gazes, as if the most ordinary act of looking had become indecent.

Jingzhe’s body trembled like a bowstring stretched to the breaking point.

The fire lit by countless stares had nearly scorched him dry.

“I…” Jingzhe uttered each word as if dancing on a blade. “I was resting, then I came back.”

He hid his trembling fingers in his sleeves and turned to leave.

“Jingzhe.”

Rong Jiu called him.

Rong Jiu rarely used his name, but hearing it made Jingzhe turn around, his eyes meeting Rong Jiu’s unwavering gaze.

That beautiful face.

Sizzle—

Jingzhe could no longer resist the strange reaction in his body. He clutched Rong Jiu’s sleeve and knelt on the ground. His spasming fingers tore the fabric, and he gasped sharply. “Ahh—”

One day, he was going to die from this cursed buff.