Chapter 55
THERE WAS NOWHERE to hide. The lanterns in the alley clearly illuminated Duan Ling, and Lang Junxia stared at him with an inscrutable expression. Duan Ling had no time to process the complex emotions making their way across Lang Junxia’s face.
They stood facing one another like stone statues. Time slowed, yet also quickened, as if a million years flew by in a single second.
“What is it now?” Wu Du called out, breaking the silence.
“I saw a carriage from the prime minister’s manor leaving Qunfang House,” Lang Junxia said. “I didn’t see it clearly, but I assume someone followed you from the residence. His Highness told me to remind you that if anyone asks you about our meeting, there’s no need to hide anything. You may answer with the truth.”
“Got it,” Wu Du said.
Lang Junxia studied Duan Ling, as if he wanted to say something, but he held himself back. He climbed back up onto the driver’s seat of the carriage, waiting further down the alley. As it passed them by, heading back down the road, Wu Du nodded to him.
“Well, he ended up seeing you after all,” Wu Du said, turning to Duan Ling.
“I guess I couldn’t hide forever,” Duan Ling said.
The day of discovery had finally come, but it had happened so suddenly it caught him off guard. He wasn’t remotely ready, but perhaps this, too, was part of his destiny. Duan Ling was no longer afraid.
You’re the one who should be afraid, Duan Ling thought. As long as I’m alive, you’ll never find peace.
A muffled thunderclap resounded in the distance, and a torrential rain poured from the sky without warning. Duan Ling and Wu Du sprinted for home like drowned rats, splashing through puddles along the way, completely soaked in an instant. Wu Du shouted something at him.
“What did you say?!” Duan Ling shouted back.
Wu Du was afraid Duan Ling would ruin his new robes. He scooped him into his arms and quickly dodged across the muddy ground into the courtyard.
The lamps were soon lit, warming the room. As Duan Ling watched the heavy rain through the window, it was as if he had returned to a stable, peaceful kingdom—one where only he and Wu Du existed. As long as he stayed within these walls, nobody could hurt him.
Lang Junxia knew he had survived. But he wouldn’t say anything, or he and that false crown prince he’d propped up would die miserably. According to the laws of Southern Chen, death by a thousand cuts would be the lightest possible sentence for impersonating a member of the royal family. The only way Lang Junxia could kill him was assassination, but who would dare accept a job targeting the prime minister’s own residence? Duan Ling only now realized his father’s martial arts skills had truly been unrivaled—the night he’d rescued Batu and Kuchi, he’d entered and exited the heavily guarded residence as if it was uninhabited.
Lang Junxia couldn’t do the same, and he couldn’t leave the palace easily or often. All Duan Ling had to do was ensure he was always by Wu Du’s side, never leaving him for more than a moment. Lang Junxia wouldn’t act rashly—if he stirred Mu Kuangda’s suspicions, trouble would surely follow. Why would the crown prince’s personal bodyguard bother to kill an otherwise-unknown boy? Something would obviously be fishy; it would be a fatal move to provoke such questions.
But Duan Ling couldn’t say anything either. He didn’t know if Mu Kuangda was friend or foe, and considering the current situation, he certainly had more enemies than friends. He had to resign himself to this absurd balancing act. It was as if he and Lang Junxia were walking a tightrope together between looming mountains: If they weren’t careful, both would plunge to their deaths.
As he contemplated how to stick close to Wu Du, he couldn’t help shooting him a glance. Wu Du had shuffled out of his wet robes and changed into a pair of dry trousers when he got back, leaving his lean, muscular back and shoulders bare. He was currently rummaging through the medicine drawers to find herbs for a warming tea. Wu Du tossed a few pieces of ginger into the teapot and added some brown sugar; he’d even found some dried osmanthus flowers in his search. Duan Ling stared intently at him as he worked. Wu Du turned his head, and their eyes collided; for a moment they simply looked at each other.
Wu Du felt slightly off-balance. “What are you looking at?” he asked. “Don’t get any ideas.”
This perplexed Duan Ling. If Wu Du hadn’t said it like that, his mind wouldn’t have made the leap—but now that he’d summoned the possibility, Duan Ling had to admit Wu Du’s figure was quite nice to look at, as sleek as a leopard’s.
“If someone tries to kill me…” Duan Ling began.
Now it was Wu Du’s turn to be baffled.
Wu Du wondered for a minute if this boy had lost his marbles. He put the lid on the teapot and reached over to check Duan Ling’s temperature with the back of his hand. Duan Ling smacked him away.
“I think that man wanted to kill me,” Duan Ling said. “Did you see how he looked at me? After all, I…I know too much since I was there at your meeting.”
“Wuluohou Mu wouldn’t touch you unless he really had nothing better to do,” Wu Du replied impatiently. “And anyway, he wouldn’t dare provoke me.”
“But what if he did?” Duan Ling pressed.
Wu Du eyed Duan Ling strangely. “There’s no what if. Even if he wanted to kill you to seal your lips, I would detect him the moment he set foot in this courtyard. He saw us together, so he knows you’re with me. Why would he try to kill you?”
“But it’s raining so hard outside, it’ll cover the sound of footsteps.”
“Enough!” Wu Du snapped.
Duan Ling shut his mouth. Wu Du thought Duan Ling was acting odd, so after the ginger tea was done steeping, he told Duan Ling to drink some and go to sleep.
“Can I sleep with you?” Duan Ling asked.
Wu Du stared. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, can I sleep at the foot of your bed?”
“Careful. I might just trample you to death when I get up in the middle of the night for water.”