Yun Jichu caught a flicker in his eyes, there one instant and gone the next.
“Is this the injury Ah Chu mentioned?” Helian Jin’s tone was light.
Yet instead of letting her pull his clothes down, he caught her hand in his.
With his other hand, he pointed to his chest.
His half-open shirt concealed the wound that had yet to fully heal and was still oozing blood, revealing only a patch of scabbed skin.
“Is this one self-inflicted?” Yun Jichu asked.
Who else could have stabbed the same spot over and over?
Helian Jin shook his head.
“These past years, state affairs have kept me so busy that I’ve gradually developed chronic headaches.”
Yun Jichu watched his eyes. When he spoke of politics, a trace of vexation crossed his face; when he mentioned the headaches, his voice carried a hint of helplessness.
“For years, I sought remedies everywhere, but nothing eased the pain. Eventually, the imperial physician came up with this folk cure: whenever a headache strikes, bleed out five qian of blood. After trying it a few times, it proved remarkably effective.”
Yun Jichu blinked.
She was certain this “remedy” was utter nonsense.
But was Helian Jin lying?
“It’s harmful to the body. You must stop,” Yun Jichu said.
Helian Jin chuckled. “I haven’t had headaches lately, so there’s no need for it.”
“Even if you do, you can’t use it.”
Yun Jichu realized her tone had turned stiff, laced with anger.
She couldn’t say why.
Was it the shocking wound?
Or the realization that Helian Jin was lying?
Some days ago, when he’d been laid up in Zichen Hall with a headache, she had visited with Ah Huan and Ah Nian.
She’d overheard the imperial physician say that Helian Jin had suffered from headaches for a long time. The prescription he’d given that day contained no hemostatics or blood tonics—and certainly, he hadn’t bled him during a bout of agony that left him unconscious.
Clearly, the imperial physician knew nothing of this “cure.”
Now she remembered: when she’d left Zichen Hall that day, there had been blood on her palms—from when she’d woken and tangled with Helian Jin in bed, her hand pressed to his chest.
His wound had been steadily seeping blood for a long time.
He knew it full well and had deliberately hidden it, all while pretending to be nonchalant.
Helian Jin pulled her into a soothing embrace and settled her on his lap.
“Does it look that awful? It’s got Ah Chu upset.”
Yun Jichu glared at him. “Yes, it’s hideous. Utterly ugly. I hate it.”
She hadn’t expected she could lie so boldly.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but the moment the words left her lips, Helian Jin’s expression shifted in a most peculiar way—from casual probing to a stunned chill, as if plunged into ice.
He lowered his lashes, drew his clothes closed, then forced a smile. He hugged her tighter, guiding her head to rest against his right chest.
“It’ll heal completely in just a few days.”
Yun Jichu knew that if Helian Jin didn’t want her to know, she could never pry it out of him.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to let it go unquestioned, the way she had respected Ah Nian’s silence earlier that day.
She had to get to the bottom of it.
When no reply came from his arms after a long moment, Helian Jin called softly, “Ah Chu?”
Still nothing.
He opened his mouth to call again, only for a pair of slender arms to loop around his neck. Yun Jichu tilted her head up and bit his lip.
It wasn’t a tender kiss but a punitive nip.
Helian Jin’s head swam from the soft, fragrant pressure on his mouth. His hand tangled in her hair as he urgently tried to deepen it.
He felt no pain, even as her teeth nearly pierced the skin.
Yun Jichu had only meant to bite him to teach him a lesson and vent her frustration.
But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to break the skin—and then he turned the tables, claiming her mouth.
Did Helian Jin not feel the pain at all?
Her anger crumbled in an instant. He scooped her up with one arm and rose to his feet.
This time, there was no tree trunk at her back—only Helian Jin’s hand pressing her head, leaving her no escape.
“Ah Chu…”
The lamplight flickered as he called her name again.
Yun Jichu, finally catching her breath, murmured back, “Mm…”
It was just a simple sound, faint and barely audible.
Yet it was enough to unravel him. He set her on the desk and bent down to kiss her once more.
For five long years of endless nights, he had called out countless times with no answer.
Now, every soft response from her felt like a dream he’d greedily conjured from his wildest delusions.
Only the press of skin to skin, breaths mingling, the warmth of bodies—only that could prove, time and again, that this was no dream.
Yun Jichu felt him tug at her clothes. The thick pearwood desk was cool and unyielding beneath her, while Helian Jin’s breath scorched her with heat.
Ice and fire met, sparking a thrill in her mind.
Just before she lost herself completely, Yun Jichu clutched at the disheveled skirts around her waist. “No, no… your wound hasn’t healed.”
Helian Jin stood before the desk, refusing to stop, his voice muffled. “It’s much better now, Ah Chu. Don’t worry.”
Yun Jichu couldn’t push him away. He gripped her ankles, trapping both her legs atop the desk, leaving her too weak to exert any force.
She was worried for him, yet too preoccupied to dwell on it.
Fearing she would continue struggling and refusing him, Helian Jin seized her wrist with his other hand and pressed it against her waist.
Held so tightly in his unyielding grasp, Yun Jichu had no choice but to relent. Seeing that he refused to remove his upper garment or let her see the wound, she could only coax him.
“Be gentle…”
“In a moment… in a moment, we’ll go to the bed… I’ll take care of it.”
“Really?” Helian Jin didn’t stop, but he leaned down to kiss her.
“Re… really.”
Her promise seemed to work wonders.
Less than an hour later, Helian Jin scooped up Yun Jichu—her body sticky and slick, her skirts bunched damply around her waist, radiating stifling heat—and carried her to the bed.
He laid her down gently, slowly brushing the damp strands of hair from her forehead, his voice thick with lingering desire. “Ah Chu… we’re on the bed now.”
It took Yun Jichu a good while to catch her breath. The lingering waves of ecstasy had only just faded.
She tugged the quilt over herself and declared righteously, “Absolutely no more. Rest now. Starting tomorrow, I’ll make sure you focus on recovering.”
“You tricked me, Ah Chu.”
Yun Jichu thought to herself that Helian Jin had deceived her first, so now they were even—one for one.
Thus, even in the face of his aggrieved expression, she held firm. “If you make a fuss again, I’ll move to the Side Hall from now on and leave you to heal in peace.”
“…”
Helian Jin let out what sounded like a soft sigh. He hugged her legs tightly, resting the bridge of his nose against her collarbone.
This was him yielding.
He just wouldn’t admit it.
Yun Jichu stroked his hair. In the end, her heart softened, and she coaxed him. “Once your wound heals, we’ll make it up properly.”
Helian Jin’s voice was muffled as it traveled along her collarbone to her ear. “Don’t ever mention going to the Side Hall again.”
Yun Jichu ignored him. She still remembered how he’d lied to her.
Early the next morning, the Emperor ate his breakfast in a distracted haze, the food tasting like wax in his mouth.
He glanced at the two vases of peonies by the window and asked offhandedly, “Who offered the White Jade Vase?”
“The Crown Prince, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor’s expression remained impassive. “The Crown Prince has visited.”
“How are things between him and the Empress?”
Lady Shuxiu replied, “The Crown Prince kept Her Ladyship company in conversation for quite some time and even shared a piece of sugar cake with her. She was in high spirits and told this servant yesterday afternoon that the Two Little Highnesses are utterly adorable.”
The Emperor nodded.
Shuxiu continued, “Her Ladyship cherishes the Two Highnesses greatly.”
“Good.”
After the meal, the Emperor summoned the Imperial Physician.
Cui Cheng stole a glance at His Majesty’s complexion.
It seemed far rosier than before.
What could be the reason?
The Imperial Physician examined the wound once more. “Your Majesty is strong and robust. This injury is healing quickly. As long as it doesn’t reopen, it will be fully mended within half a month.”
The Emperor shook his head. “Too slow.”
The Imperial Physician looked troubled. “This subject will prescribe a tonic formula. Ten days—it will surely be healed in ten days.”
Though the Emperor didn’t berate him, he was still not entirely satisfied and departed with a flick of his sleeve.
The Imperial Physician racked his brains over the prescription while Cui Cheng whispered nearby, “How is it? How is His Majesty’s health?”
“Since the headaches eased these past two days, His Majesty’s condition has improved greatly. He has led armies since his youth and was never of a frail constitution. It’s only the frequent blood loss in recent years, coupled with the headaches that kept him from sleeping, that have taken a toll. With proper rest, he will recover fully.”
Cui Cheng sighed. “He has to be willing to rest for that to happen.”
The Imperial Physician said, “His Majesty hasn’t taken blood these days, has he?”
He had been truly shocked a few days earlier upon learning of the wound. How could the Emperor—a man whose body was worth thousands of gold—bear such a savage gash?
Cui Cheng replied, “Of course not!”
Ever since His Majesty had learned that the Empress was a fairy and not a mortal of flesh and blood, he had abandoned the practice entirely.
How could one summon a fairy with something as impure as blood?
The dreams from before must have been mere coincidence.
Moreover… Cui Cheng suspected that His Majesty was particularly averse to the Consort seeing the wound.
He was probably afraid it would pain her heart.
The Imperial Physician nodded. “Rest easy, Eunuch Cui. As long as the wound doesn’t reopen, it can stop bleeding and form a scab today.”
Reassured, Cui Cheng hurried out to catch up with the Emperor.
Dawn was breaking as the ministers filed into Xuanzheng Hall, waiting silently on the steps below.
It wasn’t yet time for court, but the Emperor headed first to Fengluan Palace.
He ascended the steps, his figure vanishing through the Grand Hall’s entrance. Cui Cheng could not follow.
Moments later, the Emperor emerged.
Cui Cheng knew this meant he had gone to place the Jade Pendant—not to gaze at paintings or other relics.
The Emperor remained silent.
Every time the Emperor put away the jade pendant, his mood soured.
Cui Cheng didn’t dare say a word and trailed silently behind him toward Xuanzheng Hall.
Just a few days earlier, he had yielded the vast empire itself, utterly desireless and detached from worldly pursuits. Yet these past few days, he had returned to his old diligent ways, immersed in affairs of state.
Before entering Xuanzheng Hall, the Emperor suddenly asked, “Any word on Wei Shan?”
Cui Cheng replied, “None, Your Majesty.”
“That corpse—I inspected it myself. It was identical to Wei Shan, down to the scar from when he faked blindness and begged on the streets, pelted with stones by street urchins. No differences at all. Your Majesty… this slave suspects Wei Shan is truly dead.”
The Emperor’s voice turned icy. “You’ve been fooled by him too many times before.”
Cui Cheng bowed his head in shame. “This slave deserves death.”
“Keep searching. Deploy more Imperial Forest Army troops to comb every corner of the palace—especially the carriages coming and going from the Imperial Kitchen’s suppliers.”
Cui Cheng acknowledged the order and hurried off to carry it out.
With no urgent court matters that day, the Emperor adjourned early.
Just like the day before, he set off for Zichen Hall.
But when he reached Taiye Pool, he came to an abrupt halt.
Cui Cheng glanced at the fork in the path: left toward Zichen Hall, right toward Penglai Hall.
“The Consort hasn’t risen yet, and Her Highness the Princess is still recovering from her grave illness. These days, she only goes to Shouning Palace or stays cooped up in Penglai Hall.”
The Consort doted on the Two Highnesses so fiercely—His Majesty surely couldn’t bear to wound their father-child bond yet again.
Sure enough, the Emperor said, “Let’s go see the Princess.”