Realizing the wisdom in Huo Wujiu’s advice, Jiang Suizhou casually pressed a hand to his shoulder to brace himself. He proceeded to make a truly valiant effort to push himself upright, but he quickly flopped back down. He tried again and again, but it was futile. Once a drunk person lost their strength, it was difficult to regain it.
He scrabbled clumsily against Huo Wujiu, which only gave Jiang Suizhou the unfortunate appearance of an overly affectionate house pet rubbing against its owner.
Huo Wujiu’s expression gradually darkened.
Then Jiang Suizhou felt a firm grip around his arm, and he was abruptly, single-handedly yanked upright.
Huo Wujiu guided him to the bed with one hand supporting him and the other steering his wheelchair.
“Change your clothes first,” Huo Wujiu reminded the prince as he sat him down on the bed.
Jiang Suizhou had let him support his weight the entire way. His head was spinning, and simply sitting down on the bed left him disoriented and confused.
Despite this, he calmly followed Huo Wujiu’s instructions.
“It’s not that wet,” he muttered softly as he undressed.
He clumsily removed his wet outer robe and tossed it to the ground, but this act drained all of his remaining energy. Listlessly, he slumped against the bedpost.
As Jiang Suizhou’s inner robe was dry, meaning he was unlikely to catch a cold from it, Huo Wujiu didn’t press him further. He reached down for his wheels, fully intending to return to his daybed.
But then he heard a soft sigh.
It was quiet, but he could instantly sense the weariness and confusion the Prince of Jing was trying to conceal.
Huo Wujiu paused, hand frozen on the wheel. He turned his head to look at Jiang Suizhou.
He was leaning to the side, his forehead resting against the bed frame. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be lost in thought.
Beneath the warm, gentle glow of the lamplight, amid glittering jewels and luxurious silks, the Prince of Jing sat contained entirely within his domain of beauty and tranquility. And yet he seemed adrift, as though suspended in a void and completely untethered from his surroundings.
Huo Wujiu hesitated. He usually avoided meddling in others’ affairs.
“…What’s wrong?” he found himself asking anyway.
It took a moment for Jiang Suizhou to realize that Huo Wujiu was talking to him.
He opened his eyes. Under the candlelight, his gaze glistened wetly.
“I hurt someone,” he said in a choked voice. “He was framed because of me.”
Huo Wujiu knew who he was talking about, as he’d been present when Meng Qianshan rushed in that morning.
“It’s not your fault,” Huo Wujiu said.
Huo Wujiu had little personal experience with imperial court politics, as he had spent most of his time in the military, but he knew that innocent people were often sacrificed in these power struggles. It would have been difficult for that man to remain unscathed regardless of Jiang Suizhou’s influence.
But Jiang Suizhou shook his head.
“It is my fault,” he insisted. “I must save him.”
As he spoke, he seemed to remember something. Then he blinked, causing a tear to suddenly escape his long lashes and roll down his cheek.
As Huo Wujiu watched that tear slowly fall, he found himself in an unexpected fluster. His hands felt somewhat restless, and so he clenched them into tight fists atop his knees.
“If you want to save him, then save him,” Huo Wujiu said plainly, brows furrowing. “Why are you crying?”
Despite his lack of familiarity with the Southern Jing court in particular, he knew that embezzlement cases were often flexible. After all, the flow of funds passed through many hands, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to exonerate someone who’d been falsely accused.
A thought occurred to Huo Wujiu. “Do you not know how to save him?”
Jiang Suizhou shook his head and looked up at Huo Wujiu with watery eyes.
He didn’t seem to notice that he was crying. He didn’t even bother to wipe the tear from his face.
The pathetic sight made something tighten in Huo Wujiu’s chest, and his heart started to race uncontrollably. It beat fiercely, one thump after another.
After staring at Huo Wujiu for a while, Jiang Suizhou sighed softly again.
“Huo Wujiu, when will your legs heal?”
Huo Wujiu allowed no expression to cross his face, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his emotions.
…Drunk people really do say nonsense, he thought to himself.
One moment, he was rambling about needing to save some man who was unrelated to anything else, and the next, he was going on about healing Huo Wujiu’s legs. Did he always feel the need to meddle in every little issue beneath the sun when he got drunk?
But when Huo Wujiu was the one suffering the meddling, he didn’t find it all that irritating.
To his own surprise, he had already grown accustomed to this foolish rabbit’s quirks, including his strange insistence on making him a priority.
They were both silent for a moment, and then Huo Wujiu raised his hand and roughly wiped the tear from Jiang Suizhou’s face with calloused fingers.
As if trying to erase all the worries that troubled him.
“Enough,” he said. “Go to sleep.”