By noon, a light drizzle began to fall.
With dark circles beneath his eyes, Jiang Suizhou drifted listlessly through morning court, then dragged himself off to the Ministry of Rites.
Ji You had been highly mindful of his condition, but he couldn’t neglect to assign him any tasks at all. Seeing Jiang Suizhou’s pale complexion, Ji You glanced at the sky. Noting that it was still fairly early, he dispatched Jiang Suizhou to the city outskirts to collect a batch of materials for the venue setup.
With a smile, he’d informed Jiang Suizhou that once the inventory was verified against the account book, there was no need for him to return to the Ministry of Rites. Instead, he could simply have the materials sent directly to the ministry’s courtyard.
Jiang Suizhou knew Ji You was letting him off easy on purpose. This way, he could return home early after completing his duties.
Ji You was a good man, and Jiang Suizhou was deeply grateful for his kind and gentle nature. He was thankful he’d opened his mouth that day and chatted with him a little longer.
Unfortunately, however, the moment he left the Ministry of Rites, the rain began to pour.
He’d just left the north gate when he received word that the carriage carrying the materials had gotten stuck in the mud three miles outside the city.
This meant another heap of troubles.
The rain beyond the city fell harder than within, and the roads outside Lin’an were little more than dirt paths. After the emperor’s move, he’d poured all his resources into constructing his palace and neglected to fix up the roads.
Thus, the materials that should have arrived sometime in the afternoon would barely reach the city gates by dusk.
Jiang Suizhou had been standing in the cold, wet wind all day. When the carriage finally arrived, he had to direct his subordinates to count the items and clean off the mud.
By the time he returned to the residence, it was already past nine in the evening.
While outside the city, he’d eaten something to tide him over, taking that as his dinner. By the time he returned, he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. After a quick wash, he went straight to bed.
Meng Qianshan carefully helped Jiang Suizhou lie down, then glanced to the side.
By the window, Madam Huo sat in his wheelchair, quietly flipping through a book.
Meng Qianshan vaguely remembered that Madam Huo usually didn’t stay up this late. Had he been waiting for His Highness to return? Or perhaps he just found the book particularly interesting.
Meng Qianshan didn’t dare ask and quietly left the room.
The door slid shut.
Huo Wujiu turned to the next page of the book.
In the book, a poor scholar climbed over the wall of the prime minister’s residence. There he secretly met with the prime minister’s beautiful daughter under the moonlight. She shyly offered him a handkerchief she’d embroidered herself, but the scholar grabbed her soft hand…
Huo Wujiu’s eyes were on the book, but his gaze was empty.
He’d flipped through half the book without even noticing what it was about.
After a moment, he glanced toward the bed, where Jiang Suizhou seemed to be already fast asleep.
Huo Wujiu’s fingers idly rubbed the page.
After dining alone that evening, he’d grown inexplicably irritable, to the point that he couldn’t read a single word.
Huo Wujiu attributed this irritation to his legs.
The wounds on his legs were slowly healing, but he’d had no sensation in them up until a few days ago. As the weather took a turn for the worse, he began to feel a slight pain in the severed tendons.
It was a faint, stinging pain, emanating from where the meridians13 in his legs had been severed.
This pain differed from the sharp agony of the original injury; it wasn’t anywhere near as intense. It was more like a dull blade scraping against bone. As it was relatively mild, it hadn’t bothered Huo Wujiu the last couple of days.
But today, it rained.
The dampness seemed to trigger it, sending a wave of pain through the tendons all the way to his lower back. It was a deep, gnawing ache that came in relentless surges, as if someone had reached into his flesh and was tugging at his sinew.
Huo Wujiu endured it quietly.
But there was more to his low mood than that. He had spent the evening lost in thought, ostensibly reading a book. But strangely, every time he heard footsteps outside, he would instinctively hone in on the sound before it inevitably faded away into nothing. Each time this cycle repeated, his irritation grew.
He didn’t consciously realize it, but he was waiting for something.
Occasionally, he could hear Meng Qianshan sending servants to ask when Jiang Suizhou would return. The servants ran back and forth, only to once again report that the prince was indeed still busy.
Huo Wujiu frowned almost imperceptibly.
It wasn’t until the rain outside began to ease and the night watchman announced that it was nine that Huo Wujiu finally heard the footsteps he’d been waiting to hear.
They were light, unhurried. The moment they reached his ears, he knew it was Jiang Suizhou.
He lowered his eyes and turned a page.
He wasn’t spending the night with that concubine this time?
Huo Wujiu gave a nearly inaudible snort.
With that, the irritation that had been simmering all evening gradually dissipated. Even the corners of his mouth were compelled into a slight smile.
However, Jiang Suizhou didn’t exchange any words with him today. After tidying up, he collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.
Only now, with no one around, did Huo Wujiu lift his eyes. His gaze quietly fell on Jiang Suizhou.
Such a frail creature. Spending the night with that weak, peacemaking fool had left him utterly drained. And still he tried to imitate others by filling his rear courtyard with concubines?
He really had a death wish.
A person like him should remain safely under the protection of others, nurtured and sheltered from the elements like a delicate plant in a greenhouse. He should be spared from hardships, and certainly not allowed to entertain such frivolous and self-destructive impulses that might attract trouble.
At this thought, Huo Wujiu’s heart beat a little faster, and he felt a slight itch in his chest.
He paused, then calmly withdrew his gaze, trying to suppress something that he could feel stirring dangerously within him. He picked up the book again.
Zhang Sheng took the maiden’s hand, delicate as silk and twice as soft, thus sending a ripple of warmth through his heart. She looked shyly up at him, her cheeks flush with a rosy glow. As the saying goes…
…What kind of nonsense had Meng Qianshan brought him?!
Huo Wujiu’s face darkened, and he tossed the book aside.
The soft thud startled the person on the bed, causing him to shudder a little.
Huo Wujiu heard the faint sound and turned to look. Jiang Suizhou was tightly cocooned in the blankets. Despite his reaction to the sound, it seemed he hadn’t woken up fully. He rolled over and continued to sleep.
Something was off. Jiang Suizhou didn’t usually sleep so tightly swaddled. As Huo Wujiu watched, he couldn’t help but notice that his breathing seemed heavier than usual, as if labored.
Huo Wujiu frowned. Was he sick?
He didn’t wish to invite trouble by interfering in any of this. Better to call Meng Qianshan here now.
That was what he intended to do, anyway. But somehow, he found himself moving to Jiang Suizhou’s bedside instead of the door, as if his hands had developed a mind of their own as soon as he placed them upon the wheels.
Jiang Suizhou had wrapped himself so thoroughly in the blanket that only a few strands of his black, smooth hair were visible on the pillow.
Huo Wujiu hesitantly reached out and gripped Jiang Suizhou’s shoulder through the blanket.
The man was actually somehow thinner and frailer than he’d expected. Even through the thick blanket, Huo Wujiu could effortlessly encircle his shoulder with one hand.
Huo Wujiu easily turned him over.
His face was unnaturally pale, and his eyes were tightly closed. He was quivering, and his eyelashes fluttered slightly as he took shaky, labored breaths through ashen lips.
His terribly fragile appearance startled Huo Wujiu so much that he instantly released his shoulder, as if even that might be enough to hurt him in his current state.
Then he raised his hand, the motion a little clumsy, and placed it on Jiang Suizhou’s forehead.
…Was this how they checked for fevers?
Jiang Suizhou didn’t seem to be running a fever, though. His forehead wasn’t hot but freezing cold. He must have gotten a chill while he was out and had not yet become feverish.
Huo Wujiu decided it was time to call for Meng Qianshan.
But as he began to pull away, a soft, icy hand slipped out from the blanket. Though it wrapped itself limply around his wrist, it had him held firmly in place.
There was absolutely no strength left in its grip, and yet Huo Wujiu found himself unable to move.
“Don’t go,” Jiang Suizhou said softly, his voice trembling.
He seemed somehow far away, like he’d fallen into an icy abyss and now clutched at Huo Wujiu’s hand as if it were a lifeline.
“Don’t tell my mom,” he murmured. “I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”
Huo Wujiu didn’t know what he was talking about or who his “mom” was, but he easily recognized the fear and confusion in Jiang Suizhou’s barely audible voice.
As if he was afraid of being a burden.
Huo Wujiu paused. Then he gripped Jiang Suizhou’s hand back, as though he were possessed.
The Prince of Jing’s hand was long and slender, and the skin stretched smoothly over his well-defined knuckles. He easily enveloped that delicate hand within his palm.
Jiang Suizhou, delirious as he was at the moment, seemed to be at least conscious enough to understand that he’d found a source of warmth. A soft sigh escaped his pale lips, and he weakly but insistently strained to pull that warmth closer.
The next thing Huo Wujiu knew, a cold, smooth cheek was pressed against the back of his hand.