BHB chapter 10

 

Jingzhe’s real name was Cen Wenjing, and he turned nineteen this year.

Coincidentally, he was born on the day of the Jingzhe[mfn]Jingze (惊蛰) is one of the 24 solar terms (节气 jiéqì) in the traditional Chinese lunar calendar. Jingze means: “Awakening of Insects” or “The Stirring of Hibernating Creatures”. It happen Around March 5–7.[/mfn] solar term, so his childhood nickname at home was also Jingzhe.

Xiangfan is not far away, back and forth, plus the time of checking, the reason why it took several months has its own reasons.

The Cen family’s ancestral home was in Xiangfan. Jingzhe’s father, Cen Xuanyin, had once served as a low-level official in the Ministry of Revenue. His mother, Liu, was a commoner. They had two children altogether.

The eldest son was Jingzhe, and the younger daughter was Cen Liang.

Twelve years ago, a corruption case broke out in the Ministry of Revenue, implicating Cen Xuanyin. He was charged with multiple offenses due to dereliction of duty and accepting bribes, and the entire family was raided.

Cen Xuanyin’s parents had already passed away. The Cen family had originally been farmers. It was only with Cen Xuanyin’s generation that they began to show promise of rising in status. Unfortunately, before they could establish themselves in the capital, trouble struck.

Cen Xuanyin was beheaded, his female dependents were sent to the Jiaofang Division[mfn]Jiaofang Division (教坊司) was an official government music and performing arts bureau in imperial China. Sometimes it also implies a beautiful but low-status woman, trained to entertain nobles or royalty.[/mfn], and Cen Wenjing was castrated and entered the imperial palace. On the day he was taken to Jiaofang, Liu seized an opportunity and jumped into the river with Cen Liang in her arms. Their bodies were never found.

After entering the palace, an educated eunuch changed Cen Wenjing’s name to Jingzhe. When he was ten, he voluntarily recommended himself to Chen Mingde during a round of palace recruitments. Chen Mingde accepted him, and Jingzhe has lived in the Bei Fang ever since.

Jingzhe’s past was clear—even if no one investigated, there was nothing suspicious.

Ning Hongru remembered that Emperor Jingyuan had begun showing interest in Jingzhe just a few months ago.

That day was the death day of the Empress Dowager Cisheng.

Every year at this time, Ning Hongru was on edge, afraid that someone might run into the emperor. Emperor Jingyuan had a vicious temper. Once angered, who knew if anyone would come out alive?

The entire imperial city was old and decayed, soaked with faded memories. Its inhabitants were easily swallowed by it or drowned alongside it, turning into numb, dead monsters.

Emperor Jingyuan was a beast born of this ancient city. When he ascended the throne, his cruel nature brought nothing but destruction.

Seated on the throne and holding the imperial scepter, the emperor had a body made of hatred and bloodshed. He was chilled to the bone, like a carved stone statue formed from rot and silence.

Ning Hongru was always startled by the spreading silence. Getting too close felt like being pulled into that brutal gloom and easily torn apart.

He stood beside the emperor, trembling day after day as he watched the statue-like man on the throne.

“Go check who’s on duty at Chenghuan Palace today.”

On the anniversary of her death, Emperor Jingyuan finally appeared and said this while casually wiping his fingers.

Bright red blood seeped between his pale fingers like oil stains; the vibrant color burned against his skin. For a moment, Ning Hongru thought the stone statue had come alive.

“Check again. There’s a eunuch in the Bei Fang named Jingzhe.”

That was when Emperor Jingyuan began to show interest in someone—or something.

For Ning Hongru, this was a good sign.

He feared His Majesty would remain heartless forever; getting close would only freeze you to death. However, for someone the emperor took an interest in—whether person or object—it might not actually be a blessing.

Everyone and everything the emperor found “interesting” always met a bad end.

Jingzhe entered the palace at the age of seven. The reasons, the people involved, and how he ended up in the Bei Fang were all laid out on the emperor’s desk.

Emperor Jingyuan pointed to a name.

“Chen An?”

He had been the eunuch in charge of that group of young eunuchs when Jingzhe entered the palace.

Ning Hongru leaned forward and said, “Chen An died of a sudden illness two years ago.” Ning Hongru’s mind moved quickly, and he instantly understood the emperor’s true intent. He added, “Every year on Chen An’s birthday, Jingzhe sends offerings. The two of them were close.”

“Investigate Chen An,” said Emperor Jingyuan. Then he added, “Send someone to Xiangfan again.”

Ning Hongru immediately complied.

He hadn’t expected the investigation to take so long, nor to actually uncover something.

Ning Hongru remembered the name that appeared in today’s report and frowned slightly:

Huang Qingtian.

The current Minister of Revenue and eldest brother of the Empress Dowager.

When the Cen family fell, everyone, young and old, was imprisoned. At that critical moment, Huang Qingtian sent someone to Xiangfan. Now, the Cens’ former house and land in Xiangfan are registered under the name of Huang Qingtian’s wife, Madam Xu.

In Ning Hongru’s view, Huang Qingtian had plenty of wealth and resources. Why would he go through the trouble for a patch of farmland? There had to be more to it.

Ultimately, though, the decision to pursue the matter further would depend on His Majesty.

After all, Emperor Jingyuan hadn’t read the documents from Xiangfan yet.

The man still hadn’t come out of his room.

Ning Hongru stamped his foot in frustration and shifted his stance slightly.

He looked up at the bright moon in the sky.

It was already midnight.

Inside the room, Jingzhe tossed and turned in bed, frowning slightly as he was caught in a nightmare. A thin layer of sweat clung to his forehead, and his breath was hot.

The friction between his skin and the fabric stung. In his dream, the discomfort nearly made him strip completely until his parched throat jolted him awake.

He opened his eyes, dazed.

He was so thirsty.

His throat burned like fire.

Jingzhe struggled to get up and stumbled through the dim room, groping his way toward the table.

The teapot on the table was cold, but he didn’t care. Eagerly, he picked it up and poured half the tea into his mouth. The chill shocked his overheated organs.

Jingzhe dropped the teapot as a strange heat boiled up inside him. He tore at his collar, exposing his pale skin. His dazed eyes clouded over as he fought to hold on to his remaining clarity, reaching for the table to steady himself.

No…

The feverish heat blurred his senses. It felt like his thoughts were wading through thick mist. In this empty room, his body shouldn’t be reacting like this.

Something was here.

Jingzhe raised his eyes and stared into the darkness of the room.

He shouldn’t have seen it.

“Stared” at an unseen, rootless existence—especially those who excelled at lurking. They were masters at concealing their presence.

But when the sight itself was a source of soul-stirring intensity, even its faint traces burned with desire.

Jingzhe leaned on the table, his foggy gaze drifting toward the corner where he met a pair of deep, eerie eyes.

“…I…”

He couldn’t speak clearly; his mind was muddled.

Barefoot, Jingzhe stepped onto the cold floor. His toes were numb from the winter chill, but they couldn’t save his fevered sanity. He stumbled toward the shadows.

He fell into a cold embrace.

So cold.

Cold as a stone statue.

Whether it was arms or chest, everything carried the aura of death. Even after drinking half a teapot of cold tea, Jingzhe felt frozen.

He leaned on the man’s chest and was dazed for a moment. Then, he slowly lowered his head.

He tilted his ear toward the man’s heart and rested his cheek against the living statue’s chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He heard a heartbeat.

In Jingzhe’s blurry awareness, the stone-cold statue suddenly came alive, becoming human and carrying a faint trace of warmth.

He felt both sad and relieved. With his cold, trembling fingers, he gently traced the man’s face, finally covering his hawk-like eyes. Only then did he relax.

Like prey escaping the hunt, he finally had a moment to breathe.

“Don’t look at me…”

Jingzhe murmured. The burning heat made it impossible to distinguish dream from reality.

With trembling fingers, he desperately tried to shut out those cursed eyes—the ones that followed him everywhere. He prayed, sobbing softly. He was as bare as a newborn yet brimming with wild, ambiguous temptation.

“…Close your eyes…”

Jingzhe vaguely felt that something was wrong. He shouldn’t be this close to someone else. Or rather, he hadn’t been touched like this in a long time. It felt so strange.

But his exhausted body and soul couldn’t hold on any longer. He weakly let his head fall onto the man’s broad shoulder.

After a while, a large hand touched the nape of his neck. Jingzhe trembled from the pain and passed out.

Like a frightened, worn-out bird, he finally landed in a rootless tree.

Holding on to that broken and uncomfortable sense of familiarity, he perched wearily.