Xiahou Lian was taken aback. “Of course I am—terrified. Each time I go on a mission, I’m on edge, afraid that every moment might be my last.”
“Then why did you save me that night? The scars on your back...” Shen Jue’s mind was sharp; he’d already guessed that he was the reason for the scars on Xiahou Lian’s back.
“It was just a few lashes—I survived,” Xiahou Lian said with a nonchalant smile. “But why’d you save me, Shaoye? You could’ve ignored me or handed me over to the guards.”
Shen Jue turned his face away. “You saved my life. It was only right that I save yours.”
Xiahou Lian sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. “Fate never gives us many choices. Either spend my life as a prisoner in the mountains or become an assassin flirting with life and death. Either watch you die at the hands of Qiye Garden assassins or take a few lashes and hope to make it out alive. I didn’t want to be a prisoner—and I didn’t want you to die, so I chose the lashing.” He grinned slyly. “Luckily, I’ve made it out alive every time.”
“Your luck won’t last forever,” Shen Jue said quietly. “What about your mother? Doesn’t she care what happens to you?”
Xiahou Lian’s eyes flashed. He managed a bitter smile. “I’m already fourteen. A man must stand tall on his own. How could I keep hiding in my mother’s arms like a child?”
Outside of murder, Xiahou Pei—his mother—was totally unreliable. Most of the time, she barely acknowledged her son, leaving him to grow like an untamed weed. After returning from the Western Regions and rescuing Xiahou Lian, she’d vanished again. Left to his own devices, Xiahou Lian had healed his wounds on his own and picked up the art of assassination from others. He would have been lying if he’d said that he didn’t resent her. Taking a few deep breaths, Xiahou Lian forced back the moisture in his eyes.
A real man wouldn’t cry.
Noticing how dark it was outside, Shen Jue said, “It’s late, and I have duties tomorrow. I should head back to my room.”
“Can I sleep in your room, Shaoye? This place reeks,” Xiahou Lian said, grabbing Shen Jue’s sleeve with a tormented expression.
“I can’t let you.”
“But look at me! What if the smell winds up suffocating me? Or my stitches burst, and I bleed to death?”
“I think you’ll live to be a thousand-year-old scourge,” Shen Jue sneered.
Xiahou Lian struggled to sit up. “Have some mercy!”
“Fine,” Shen Jue sighed. “Stop moving. I’ll help you.”
Shen Jue assisted Xiahou Lian to his room and onto the heated bed, then headed to the bathhouse to wash once more. Xiahou Lian curled up in Shen Jue’s blankets and breathed in his scent, clean and pleasant. It was a vast improvement on the suffocating stench of the other room, which had almost knocked him out. That, coupled with the unbearable agony in his shoulder, had been practically the ultimate torture.
Shen Jue’s sparsely decorated room contained only a few simple pieces of furniture and a lone bed. It was so austere that it almost felt icy. For his part, Xiahou Lian was better suited to a livelier environment. His room always brimmed with plants; their brilliant colors served to lift his spirits. Shen Jue, however, favored simplicity; he lived like an ascetic, tending toward the cold and bare.
Shen Jue had found the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard quite to his liking. Its greatest—although perhaps only—advantage was that it didn’t require Shen Jue to share a crowded dormitory, like eunuchs elsewhere in the palace did. This courtyard was quiet and underpopulated, with more rooms than occupants.
Shen Jue returned from his bath with his hair loose. The dark strands gleamed against his white underrobe like ink on paper, and Shen Jue’s porcelain face appeared even paler in contrast.
Xiahou Lian scooted aside in the bed, and Shen Jue climbed under the blankets next to him.
Xiahou Lian looked at him. Shen Jue’s long eyelashes fluttered gently, like a butterfly’s delicate wings.
“What do you want to ask?” Shen Jue said softly. “Go ahead. You’re about to bore holes into my face, staring like that.”
Caught off guard, Xiahou Lian awkwardly burrowed deeper beneath the blankets. “How did you end up in the palace, Shaoye?” he mumbled.
Shen Jue opened his mouth but hesitated as something occurred to him: If Xiahou Lian could disguise himself as Sixi, why couldn’t he remain in the palace living as Sixi? That way, he could escape Qiye Garden and stay by Shen Jue’s side, ensuring that they would never be parted again.
The idea took root in his heart, choking it like a vine and making it flutter in his chest. After a moment of silence, Shen Jue said, “I ended up wandering the streets. A pawnshop owner stole the earrings you gave me; I lost my dagger there too. When I had no money, an old beggar took me in and fed me. There was a famine in Shandong that year, and we followed refugees to the capital, hoping to find food. But...”
“What happened?” Xiahou Lian asked.
“The old beggar sold me to the palace,” Shen Jue continued. “Maybe he’d planned to do that all along.”
Xiahou Lian’s eyes widened. “What...?”
Shen Jue spoke with indifference, as if recounting someone else’s story. The more placid he was, the more it pained Xiahou Lian. This boy had spent his life sheltered within the manor. Could he possibly have understood the dangers of the outside world? He would’ve innocently followed anyone who’d offered him candy, oblivious to their hidden intentions. He’d likely seen the elderly beggar as kindhearted and let his guard down. He hadn’t realized that the wicked eventually grew old too—for instance, the Shixin Buddha.
Xiahou Lian sighed, unsure what to say.
“Don’t call me Shaoye anymore,” Shen Jue said, looking down at his fingers. “I’m no longer a young master of the Xie family. Now, I’m just a eunuch, and my name is Shen Jue, not Xie Jinglan. If I kept the Xie family name, then I’m sure my ancestors would be ashamed to see me as a eunuch in the afterlife.”
“The Xie family treated you abominably. Who cares about their opinions?” Xiahou Lian said bitterly. “Whether you’re Xie Jinglan or Shen Jue, you’ll always be my shaoye.”
“By the way, aren’t you curious about what happened to Sixi?” Shen Jue looked up at Xiahou Lian, a cold smile on his lips. “He tried to defile me. He was like a toad lusting after a swan, pursuing something beyond his capabilities. He expected me to submit, but I killed him instead. He’s lying in the dry well outside.”
“What?!” Xiahou Lian was shocked. He knew the palace was a cesspool of rampant same-sex exploitation, but he hadn’t expected Shen Jue to face such depravity. Then again, Shen Jue’s beauty was bound to attract unwanted attention.
Shen Jue’s cold expression in the dim light gave Xiahou Lian the sense that something about him had changed. The hardships in his life, and the filth of the palace, had transformed him. Gloom hung heavy in his eyes, like a shadow, impossible to shake. Xiahou Lian touched Shen Jue’s fingers. “It’s been hard for you, Shaoye.”
“Yes, A-Lian.” Shen Jue’s eyes darkened, becoming deep and unfathomable as an ancient well. He leaned close to Xiahou Lian’s ear and murmured, “Stay here and protect me, okay?”
“I...” Xiahou Lian hesitated.
Shen Jue’s voice held an unyielding determination. “I saved your life. It belongs to me now.”