“But it’s fine,” Xiahou Lian continued. “My mother has money. I’ll ask her for some. You’re so smart; you won’t need to study forever. Maybe you’ll pass the exams in a couple years.”
The fool didn’t even know that the imperial exams were only held once every three years. “You can keep calculating. I’m going to get medicine,” Shen Jue said, standing up.
“Don’t...don’t go!” Xiahou Lian leaned half off the bed, but he was so weak that he nearly fell out. Shen Jue, startled, hurriedly grabbed his arm to steady him.
Xiahou Lian lay back on the bed and sighed. “I’m not sick! This...this is poison.”
Shen Jue was shocked. “Someone poisoned you?”
“No.” Xiahou Lian lay back down to gather his strength before speaking. “It’s Seven Fifteen. Every Qiye Garden assassin has to take the antidote annually, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month. I forgot to bring mine. The medicine you get won’t help.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?! And if that’s the case, why did you stay? Are you trying to die?!”
“I thought I could tough it out...”
“Has anyone ever toughed it out before?”
“No.”
Shen Jue felt like he was about to vomit blood.
“I mean, no one’s tried before, so I wanted to give it a shot,” Xiahou Lian said with a bitter smile. “But now, it seems...a bit harder than I thought.”
Hard? It was downright dangerous. Xiahou Lian’s entire body felt weak, like his limbs were stuffed with cotton, unable to exert any strength. It hadn’t been so bad earlier, but now even his vision was blurring. Shen Jue seemed to shift in and out of focus, and Xiahou Lian’s mind felt like mush; he couldn’t think clearly.
“Get me some water,” Xiahou Lian said, his voice hoarse.
He propped himself up against the bedpost. Shen Jue tried to hand him a cup, but as soon as he let go, the cup dropped to the ground and shattered.
He couldn’t even hold a cup now.
“Xiahou Lian...” Shen Jue’s voice trembled. “You...”
“It’s fine.” Xiahou Lian shook his head, wanting to offer the other boy some comfort. When he looked down, though, he saw that his hands were covered in blood. His scalp numbed, and he froze.
Only then did he realize that his nose and mouth had been bleeding for some time. Bright-red blood had dripped onto the quilt—a horrifying sight. Shaky, he lay back down, staring blankly at the bed’s canopy. Within moments, it seemed as if he were only breathing out, not in.
This was it. He was bleeding from all seven orifices. He was done for.
Xiahou Lian had always been a troublemaker, fearless and reckless, even daring to steal from the abbot. But now, facing death, he realized he was nonetheless afraid of dying.
What would happen after death? He didn’t have time to think about it. Figures flashed before his eyes. The first was his unreliable mother. When he died here in the palace, she’d probably still be carousing in a brothel or slaughtering her way through some sect, her blade gleaming like water as her prey scattered. She’d always been like that, carefree and self-indulgent. Xiahou Lian wasn’t a son to her but a burden.
A pang of loneliness rose in his usually carefree chest, like a lone goose treading on snow. He’d be buried in this desolate courtyard, anonymous. His mother, his shifu, and Uncle Duan would never find him again.
Xiahou Lian’s fingers twitched weakly, and a warm hand grasped his. He turned his head and saw Shen Jue’s tearful eyes.
“Xiahou Lian, how are you feeling? Don’t scare me!”
At least it wasn’t all bad. He had a brother to see him off.
“I...” Xiahou Lian opened his mouth, and blood trickled from the corners. Shen Jue took out a handkerchief and wiped it away, but it kept flowing, impossible to staunch.
“My body feels so weak—like I’m about to ascend to the heavens,” Xiahou Lian said softly. “Do you think I might really become an immortal? Maybe I’m a reincarnated celestial being, and the heavens are calling me back.”
Shen Jue gripped Xiahou Lian’s hand tightly, as if he could keep the boy from leaving. He buried his face in Xiahou Lian’s palm. “A-Lian, you can’t die. I won’t let you die!”
“Listen to me, Shaoye. I need to give you my last words.” Xiahou Lian wiped tears from Shen Jue’s face with a faint smile.
He’d always been so kindhearted. Even on his deathbed, he was busy comforting others.
In truth, he’d always felt guilty about Shen Jue—guilty for not telling him about Qiye Garden’s assassinations sooner, and guilty for not saving Aunt Lan. Shen Jue had already suffered so much, and now he was about to lose Xiahou Lian too. Dying would be a relief for Xiahou Lian—no more pain, no more concerns. But Shen Jue would have to continue suffering alone in the palace.
The promises Xiahou Lian had once made to Shen Jue—to take him to see the lantern festival, to stay by his side, to help him seek his revenge—would never be fulfilled.
He truly was sorry.
“If you ever get a chance to leave the palace, follow the old process: Go to the highest point in the city and leave Jingtie there. My mother will come find you. Her name’s Xiahou Pei. She’s very beautiful, but her personality’s a bit odd. You won’t need to say much. Just tell her that Xiao-Lian was disloyal and can’t care for her in her old age. Tell her to look after herself, drink less, and remember to bring a ‘sheath’ the next time she goes on a mission. She shouldn’t act like she’s invincible. I hid some silver under the third tree in front of the temple gate in Qiye Garden—a hundred and twenty taels. Tell her to give you that. She doesn’t need money. Consider that your inheritance from me.”
“I don’t want it!” Shen Jue shook his head desperately, tears streaming down his cheeks. Suddenly thinking of something, he looked up. “Your mother! Yes—your mother must have the antidote to save you. I’ll go find her!”
Although half-dead, Xiahou Lian grabbed him. “Find her? In the palace? How?”
“No...” Shen Jue’s eyes darted nervously. “I…I saw your mother the night I found you. She killed a few imperial guards. She was looking for you.”
Hearing that, Xiahou Lian froze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid you’d go looking for her if you knew. I...” Shen Jue couldn’t meet Xiahou Lian’s eyes. He clenched his teeth and stood. “I’ll go find her now. She might still be in the palace. If I can’t find her, I’ll find a way to leave. Wait for me!”
“Shen Jue!”
Shen Jue didn’t look back. He rushed to the door and opened it. A tall figure stood leaning against the walkway wall, a blade of grass dangling from her lips. This woman’s head wasn’t covered with feathers. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back, making her skin appear snowy and her lips bloodred. When she saw Shen Jue, her gaze swept over him like moonlight over a calm lake.
It wasn’t Consort Gao. Shen Jue stepped back warily.
“His mother,” the woman said, pointing at herself and smiling. “Xiahou Pei.”