PCA Chapter 228

Having said this much, Han Qi didn’t wish to say more. He closed his eyes to rest. Han Shu, seeing his father’s intention to dismiss the guests, stood up and gestured: “It’s getting late, and father hasn’t eaten yet. Please feel free to leave—I won’t see you out.”

 

Qi Lin rose to take his leave. Just as he reached the door, he felt something cutting through the air behind him and quickly dodged. With a light “clang,” a chopstick was embedded straight into the doorframe, its tip protruding from the outside, humming with vibration.

 

Qi Lin turned back to see Han Qi still looking weary, his gaze on a broken branch outside the window, but his words were directed at him: “Since Ling’er doesn’t hold the previous matter against you, I won’t pursue it either. But you can’t bully him for having no support. I raised Ling’er—I’m like half a parent to him. If he suffers even the slightest grievance in the future, I, as his master, will be the first to object.”

 

Behind them, Qu Ling’er bit his lip hard. He thought he had hidden it well enough, but unexpectedly, even that small emotion was caught by his master.

 

Qi Lin glanced at Qu Ling’er, then turned back to bow seriously to Han Qi: “This junior will remember.”

 

Coming out of Han Qi’s room, Qi Lin led the way while Qu Ling’er dawdled for a while before reluctantly emerging. He took a long time closing the door, then stood facing it as if reflecting on his mistakes, just refusing to turn around.

 

Since he wouldn’t turn around, Qi Lin didn’t leave either. The two seemed locked in a standoff, neither willing to move first.

 

Finally, Qu Ling’er was the first to surrender and turn around: “Aren’t you going to eat in the front?”

 

Qi Lin shook his head: “I’m not hungry.”

 

“If it doesn’t taste good, just say so,” Qu Ling’er pouted, deliberately taking a wide detour around Qi Lin. “I know you have no choice now, so just bear with it. When the Prince and Brother Su return, you’ll naturally be able to go back to eating and drinking well.”

 

As Qu Ling’er brushed past him, Qi Lin grabbed his arm: “I feel like something’s not right with you today.”

 

So this person still didn’t know what the problem was. Qu Ling’er had nowhere to vent his resentment. He didn’t have Su Cen’s eloquence and didn’t know how to say something like “because you didn’t sleep with me last night, I think you don’t love me” in a righteous manner. In the end, he could only grit his teeth hard, forcefully pull his hand away, and storm off with a flick of his sleeve.

 

But Qi Lin had no intention of letting him leave, stepping ahead to block the courtyard gate, leaving only enough space for one person to squeeze through sideways.

 

Qu Ling’er stamped his feet in anger, his eyes reddening. He stepped back two paces to survey the surrounding walls, planning to climb over them, but was reminded by Qi Lin: “It’s exactly the time for the city gate guard change. Are you sure you want to climb the wall now?”

 

Qu Ling’er was completely annoyed. Forgetting all the gentle words and careful movements of these past days, he burst out cursing: “What exactly do you want?!”

 

Qi Lin leaned against the doorframe, unmoved: “I’m thinking about what Senior Han said.”

 

The doorframe was low, so Qi Lin’s tall frame had to lean forward slightly, which from a distance looked somewhat conciliatory.

 

“Master was just speaking casually, remembering the events in Yangzhou back then. You don’t need to take it to heart.” After all, they’d go their separate ways in the future—who knew if they’d even acknowledge each other? What was there left to say?

 

Qi Lin straightened up and stepped forward: “I think he entrusted you to me. If I betray you, he wants me to break cleanly like that chopstick.”

 

As he spoke, he had already approached Qu Ling’er. Qi Lin slowly bent down, leaning close to Qu Ling’er’s ear, asking softly: “Tell me, how exactly did I offend you? Don’t let me die confused.”

 

Qu Ling’er pouted and suddenly burst into tears: “You don’t want me anymore.”

 

“…” Qi Lin looked completely bewildered. “When did I not want you?”

 

“You… you…” Qu Ling’er’s face flushed red. “You can’t even get hard for me anymore!”

 

“…”

 

Qi Lin looked back—both doors were tightly shut, and he didn’t know if the people inside had heard. After thinking it over, he pulled Qu Ling’er away. If he let Qu Ling’er continue shouting, who knew when another chopstick might come flying out of the room.

 

Finding an abandoned side room, Qi Lin closed the door behind them. Before Qi Lin could move, Qu Ling’er was already intimidated, unconsciously looking for places to hide until he could retreat no further, pressed against the wall.

 

The Turkic people all called Qi Lin the “Cold-faced Asura.” At first he found it inexplicable, but now being stared at by those eyes, he suddenly understood how Qi Lin got that Asura title.

 

The person before him approached step by step with his back to the light, those cold eyes carrying a bloodthirsty gleam, as if wanting to dismember him inch by inch.

 

Even if business doesn’t work out, friendship remains, right? Qu Ling’er wanted to cry but had no tears. Just for saying he couldn’t get hard, was this person really going to make such a big fuss and bring him to this kind of place to silence him?

 

Cornered, with their breaths intermingling, Qi Lin suddenly grabbed one of Qu Ling’er’s hands and forcefully pulled it toward himself.

 

Qu Ling’er squeezed his eyes shut until he was startled by the burning, hard sensation in his palm: “…Hm?”

 

Qi Lin drew a shallow breath, his burning hot breath passing by Qu Ling’er’s ear: “This is a great injustice—more wrongful than accusing me of colluding with the Turks. It’s been like this since the first time I saw you two months ago.”

 

The thing in his palm was rising and swelling, impossible to conceal even through clothing. Qu Ling’er’s face turned completely red from the heat. He struggled to pull his hand away but was held tightly by Qi Lin, unable to move an inch.

 

“You’re lying. If it was always like this, it would have… would have broken long ago,” Qu Ling’er was both ashamed and aggrieved. “If it was always like this, then last night you still… still…”

 

“I didn’t touch you because I thought this place was filthy, my fugitive status was filthy—I was afraid of defiling you,” Qi Lin moved Qu Ling’er’s hand away from that thing and pressed it against his own chest. “When we change places later, when I change this heavy status, I’ll definitely take you properly.”

 

“No need,” Qu Ling’er’s head was almost buried in his chest. Beneath the silk dress, he was as shy as an inexperienced young lady. “No… no need to change… as long as it’s you… that’s enough.”

 

The Dragon Tail Road in front of Hanyuan Hall rose from the ground, backed by the magnificent Dragon Head Plain. Looking up from below, one could only feel an indescribable imperial majesty. Wen Xiu lifted his robes as he climbed all the way up. Having barely reached the final level and not yet caught his breath, he saw the young emperor in plain mourning clothes standing alone behind a dragon-head ornament, letting the mountain wind blow his robes about, outlining his increasingly thin frame beneath the plain garments.

 

“Your Majesty,” Wen Xiu hurried forward to kneel and bow. “The wind is strong here—please take care of your health.”

 

The young emperor squinted slightly, surveying the Danfeng Gate below the layers of steps, and even further to Taiji Palace and Chengtian Gate, saying leisurely: “Everyone thinks the view here is good and wants to stand here to see it, but I don’t think there’s much to see. What do you think?”

 

Wen Xiu didn’t dare breathe heavily, keeping his head down and staring at his shoe tips: “The scenery here belongs to Your Majesty. This subject dares not presume to view it.”

 

The young emperor suddenly smiled: “What do you mean ‘my scenery’? All things in the world are born bright and beautiful—anyone with eyes can appreciate them. Just take a look—what’s wrong with that?”

 

Only then did Wen Xiu dare raise his head. After Empress Dowager Chu’s death, the young emperor had become increasingly profound. On the day of Empress Dowager Chu’s funeral, this twelve-year-old emperor hadn’t shed a single tear, following the ceremonial officials through the entire process and insisting on keeping vigil for three days. The cold, hard floor of the mourning hall hadn’t warmed up yet, and many officials nearly couldn’t hold on, but this pampered body remained unmoved throughout, not eating a grain of rice for three whole days. Even the last trace of childishness on his face had been worn away.

 

Calm and self-controlled, showing neither joy nor anger—where was there anything childlike about this? He was more like a miniature version of that person.

 

The young emperor withdrew his gaze and looked at Wen Xiu: “How are the matters I asked you to handle progressing?”

 

Wen Xiu shook his head: “Both Yangzhou and Suzhou are being watched, but it seems they have no intention of returning. The search must be conducted secretly—making a big show would surely alert Li Sheng. Moreover, we need to keep some people to protect the capital and Your Majesty’s safety. We’re stretched thin and truly short-handed.”

 

The young emperor nodded without reproach: “No matter how difficult, this matter cannot be set aside. You’re the only one I can trust now. The capable should do more—please bear with it.”

 

Wen Xiu hurriedly cupped his hands: “Your Majesty speaks too highly of me.”

 

“There’s another matter,” Wen Xiu continued. “Last night an eight-hundred-li urgent dispatch was delivered to my residence. Anxi Protector Ye Lantian reported that Tibetan forces are massing in large numbers at our border, and there will likely be major movements in the near future.”

 

The young emperor narrowed his eyes slightly: “I’m afraid it’s someone else who will make major movements. What about the Turks? What’s their reaction?”

 

“The Turks haven’t made any moves. Since Turkic Yabgu Mochuo died and Mohe took power, they seem intent on recuperating. They haven’t been active at the border for quite some time.” Wen Xiu pondered: “It’s just that pacifying the northwest originally relied entirely on Prince… Prince Ning. If there’s truly unrest now, with generals but no commander, I fear the fighting will be difficult.”

 

But the young emperor shook his head: “As long as I stand here, war cannot break out.”

 

Wen Xiu looked at the figure standing upright in the wind, and a tremor suddenly surged in his heart. Half a year ago, this person was still a child who could only hide behind his imperial uncle and secretly wipe away tears. When exactly had he suddenly grown into an emperor that all people could depend on? Bloodline was truly a miraculous thing—whether it was the young emperor, Li Sheng, or Li Shi, they all possessed the same imperial bearing, the same unbreakable spirit in their bones.

 

“I have some disrespectful words—I don’t know if I should speak them…” The words had already left his mouth before his heart could stop them.

 

“Hmm?” The young emperor turned back: “Speak.”

 

“If the former emperor was truly killed by Prince Ning…” Wen Xiu pressed his lips lightly: “What would Your Majesty do?”

 

On one side were his birth parents, on the other the pillar of the state. This question had probably been pondered by many long ago, but no one dared raise it, and even fewer dared ask it before His Majesty.

 

The young emperor also fell silent for a moment. Not knowing what he was thinking of, his gaze softened for an instant, somewhat like that inexperienced child from before.

 

“I believe Imperial Uncle would not,” the young emperor finally said with certainty.

 

Wen Xiu cupped his hands: “Your Majesty is wise.”

 

The young emperor looked up at the sky—the boundless heavens were azure and clear, with a flock of southward-flying swallows forming a V-shape as they slowly passed overhead. The young emperor sighed deeply: “I miss Imperial Uncle a bit.”

 

A feather gently floated down from mid-air, landing a step away from Su Cen’s feet.

 

Watching the carrier pigeon fly farther and farther until it disappeared at the horizon, he withdrew his gaze and turned to smile at Li Shi: “You still owe me four months. Remember to repay me in the future.”

 

Li Shi set down the luggage he had just packed: “Then let’s not leave. Let them fight it out.”

 

“Nonsense,” Su Cen chided with a smile, picked up the bundle and shouldered it himself, then slipped his other hand into Li Shi’s broad, warm palm: “We’ve been out long enough. Let’s go home.”

 

##

---