Song Beiyao’s injuries were not excessively severe, but he was utterly exhausted and his physical condition was abysmal. Following this bout of unconsciousness, he slept for a full day and night.
When he woke up, the numbers in the bottom-left corner had dropped once more to -196.
“Host, oh my dear host, how can you torture yourself like this!” The system could no longer stand it. “The fortune points we managed to gain with such difficulty were completely squandered away again.”
Just waking up and feeling deeply uncomfortable all over, Song Beiyao gave a few muffled coughs before replying, “You know the saying about casting a long line to catch a big fish, right?”
The system: “What does that mean?”
Song Beiyao continued, “And do you know the other saying about not entering a tiger’s cave if you don’t want to catch its cubs?”
The system was dazed: “What does that mean either?”
Never expecting the system to be so oblivious to these idioms, Song Beiyao chuckled softly twice and remained silent.
The clothes on his body had evidently been changed by Ling Shuang, and his left rear shoulder had likely been treated with medicine as well; it felt warm, though the wound had pierced quite deep, causing waves of intermittent pain. Fortunately, the medicinal effects helped dull the ache somewhat.
There was no one else in the room, but it felt considerably warmer than before. Song Beiyao noticed a charcoal brazier placed in the center of the room, which was generating the heat.
At that moment, the door was pushed open with a creak, letting a rush of wind and snow pour directly in. Ling Shuang hurriedly shut the door, stamped his feet, rubbed his hands together, and muttered in a low voice, “Freezing to death, freezing to death!”
“Is it snowing outside?” Song Beiyao tilted his head, his voice weak as he spoke.
Ling Shuang looked up in surprise, joy flashing across his eyes: “You’re awake.” Hurrying over to the bedside, he pulled up a stool and sat down, staring at Song Beiyao with words seemingly caught on the tip of his tongue.
“What’s wrong?” Supporting himself, Song Beiyao forced himself to sit up, half-leaning against the edge of the bed to look at him. That youthful face was frozen red, his cheeks glowing bright crimson along with the tip of his nose, and his expression carried a trace of guilt.
“I… I didn’t mean to stab you,” Ling Shuang began hesitantly and sluggishly.
Seeing his twisted, conflicted expression, Song Beiyao let out a few soft laughs from the back of his throat and gently comforted him, “It’s fine, it was an accident, and besides, it doesn’t even hurt.”
“Doesn’t hurt?” Ling Shuang sniffled, looking astonished. “Actually, I used quite a bit of force. When I saw you turn around back then, it scared the life out of me; good thing I held back a bit of my strength.”
“Mm, it doesn’t hurt.” In reality, Song Beiyao was hurting too much to spare much energy for talking, but he still tried his best to make his voice sound reasonably energetic. “What about you? How did you slip away? I saw a bunch of guards go chasing after you.”
Ling Shuang’s attention was successfully diverted. Instantly sweeping away his depression, he beamed with pride: “How could those few fellows trap me? As soon as I left the Crown Prince’s residence, I shook them off in no time, and then I sneaked right back in without a sound. But seriously”
His expression shifting instantly, he grew indignant. “That bastard Pei Ji is truly no human! You even blocked a sword for him, yet he didn’t show the slightest bit of care, leaving you all alone in this room the moment the physician finished up. And look at the guards still swarming outside this courtyard! I’m telling you, our plan this time wasn’t very successful; Pei Ji clearly still doesn’t trust you!”
After listening to Ling Shuang’s tirade, Song Beiyao curved the corners of his eyes slightly. It might look like there was no progress on the surface, but everything was unfolding exactly within his expectations.
He did not expect that a single, simple act of throwing himself in front of a blade would make Pei Ji drop his guard entirely. Pei Ji kept him around solely because of Peng Yu’s whereabouts.
Pei Ji’s personality was simply like that: once he decided Song Beiyao was problematic, he wouldn’t easily overturn his own deeply held convictions. Therefore, there was no need to rush; he just needed to slowly chip away at his defenses bit by bit.
Given Ling Shuang’s simple and straightforward nature, he wouldn’t understand the underlying strategic complexities, and Song Beiyao didn’t feel like explaining too much to him. Pushing the quilt aside slightly, he said, “I’m hungry. Help me up, I want to eat something.”
“Oh, oh, right.” Ling Shuang helped him sit up. “The doctor said you need to eat light meals for the next few days, so the residence sent over some nourishing soups and porridge. They’re still warm; eat up first, and if it’s not enough, I’ll go ask them for more.”
After finishing his evening meal and calculating the time, Song Beiyao spoke leisurely, “Ling Shuang, do you mind doing me another favor?”
Ling Shuang glanced up at him: “What are you up to now? Tell me beforehand if you’re going to stab me again so I can pick a good angle.”
“No stabbing.” Wanting to laugh out loud, Song Beiyao let his eyes and brows fill with amusement. “This time, I need you to pass along a message for me.”
Staring at that face, Ling Shuang found himself momentarily dazed once more. He couldn’t figure out how this person could look so breathtakingly lovely when he smiled—so gentle and soft that it made people want to look a little closer and listen carefully to whatever he had to say.
Scoffing mentally, he asked, “What message?”
“Go find a guard and notify Pei Ji. Just say I’ve woken up and have something to tell him,” Song Beiyao said smoothly.
“Just that?” Ling Shuang was speechless. “Rest assured, Pei Ji probably already knows you’re awake.”
“Knowing is one thing, but that doesn’t mean he’ll proactively come see me.”
True to Pei Ji’s character, since he hadn’t managed to extract the information he wanted either time, he would most likely treat him with cold detachment and leave him sidelined for a few days.
The longer he was left sidelined, the easier it was for accidents to happen. Hence, this time he needed to take the initiative.
Song Beiyao added unhurriedly, “I want to see him tonight.”
“Tonight?” Ling Shuang’s voice rose in pitch. “You probably won’t get to see him tonight. I went out to scout around earlier, and there’s a grand banquet in the palace tonight; Pei Ji went into the palace, and who knows when he’ll return to the estate.”
“Then we’ll wait until he returns.”
“No, why are you in such a rush to see him? We’ve only been in the estate for a few days; we don’t need to rush our mission quite so fast. Could it be that you’ve actually fallen for Pei Ji?” Ling Shuang leaned closer, wearing an expression meant to warn him against straying down a wicked path. “Spies who fall for their targets never come to a good end.”
Massaging his brow in exasperation, Song Beiyao sighed, “Like you said, we’ve only been in the estate a few days is it even possible for me to fall for him that fast?”
“You just need to do as I say.”
“Alright, fine then.”
The pitch-black night was shrouded in howling wind and snow. Several majestic steeds galloped forth with long neighs, pounding across the deserted streets before coming to a halt outside the Crown Prince’s residence.
Atop his horse, the tall, imposing figure executed a nimble vault downward. His black cloak billowed wildly in the gale, kicking up thousands of snowflakes while frost and rime frosted his cold, stern brows and sharp eyes, burying every emotion deep within his pitch-black pupils.
A servant stepped forward to take the reins and lead the horse away. Striding into the Crown Prince’s residence, Pei Ji headed directly toward the study.
“Your Highness.” At that moment, a grey-clad guard stepped forward from the side, dropping to one knee: “The Consort has awakened. He stated that he has matters to discuss with Your Highness, and requested your presence at the Western Annex courtyard for a meeting.”
Pei Ji paused in his stride: “Understood.”
Ignoring the message, he lifted his foot to continue walking. The guard hesitated before speaking up once more.
Lowering his cold gaze, Pei Ji asked, “What else?”
The guard answered in a dry voice, “The Consort also said… that his wounds require a dressing change. According to the customs of Zhao, his body may only be viewed by his husband, and even a servant cannot change his bandages, which is why he requests Your Highness’s presence…”
Pei Ji let out a cold snort: “Go tell him not to change his bandages then, he can just lie there and wait for the wound to rot and die.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
Pei Ji walked straight toward the study.
The study was located in the East Annex. Passing all the way through to the inner chambers, he took a seat at the desk, pulled out an official document, and concentrated intently on reading it.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Steward Zhang walked in carrying a bowl of warm broth, placed the soup crock beside the desk, and spoke softly, “Your Highness must have consumed quite a bit of wine at the banquet tonight; drink some warm broth to soothe your stomach.”
“Leave it here, Steward Zhang.” Pei Ji scribbled a few characters on the document, set it aside neatly, and opened another.
Yet Steward Zhang remained standing in place without leaving. In the past, whenever the Prince did this and told him to leave so he could drink it later, the soup would actually end up getting cold before the Prince ever found a spare moment to touch it. Over time, his stomach had developed chronic issues; if he continued disregarding his health this way, what would become of him in the future?
Without lifting his eyes to look at him, Pei Ji asked, “Is there anything else?”
Steward Zhang spoke respectfully, “This old slave was thinking that it would be wonderful if someone could constantly attend to Your Highness by your side and take good care of your health.”
Pei Ji glanced up and swept a glance across him: “Hearing Steward Zhang say this, this king almost thought you were planning to leave the Crown Prince’s residence tomorrow.”
Steward Zhang replied, “This old slave is getting older, clumsy with chores, and won’t be able to serve Your Highness much longer. In ordinary households, once a man takes a wife, there is always a wife to look after him. Since Your Highness now has a Consort, why not let the Consort attend to you by your side?”
Closing the current document and opening another, Pei Ji replied indifferently, “Why is Steward Zhang dragging him into this? Could it be that he sent you to say this?”
Shaking his head, Steward Zhang answered, “The Consort hasn’t said a word to this old slave. It was only on the first day, seeing that his health was poor, that I asked a few extra questions and learned he was filled with joy over marrying Your Highness while worrying you might dislike him, which made him fall ill from excessive fretting. Today, when I heard the Consort blocked a sword for Your Highness and suffered severe injuries, my heart clenched with worry as well. The Consort genuinely likes Your Highness and treats you with sincerity; can’t you tell?”
With a sharp clack, Pei Ji laid down his document and shot a cold gaze at Steward Zhang: “Steward Zhang, you are overstepping your bounds.”
“Your Highness!” Steward Zhang dropped immediately to his knees. “At this old slave’s age, I have witnessed countless people, yet I have never seen someone so exquisite and intelligent. This old slave isn’t afraid to speak my mind: ever since Your Highness went through that incident, you’ve been unwilling to trust anyone else in your heart but isn’t this simply punishing yourself? Why not give the Consort a chance, and give yourself a chance as well?”
As those words fell, absolute silence filled the room.
Pei Ji leaned back against the backrest of his chair, closing his eyes as his fingers pressed against his brow, fatigue showing clearly on his face: “Steward Zhang, you may leave.”
Knowing that pressing any further would likely provoke the Prince’s wrath, Steward Zhang rose, bowed respectfully, and stepped out of the study.
Beside the desk, the candlelight flickered gently. Outside the window, heavy snow danced across the sky in a blinding flurry.
Breathing heavily, Pei Ji stood up, walked over to the window, and stared at the snowy scenery outside. Abruptly lowering his gaze, he raised his hand and gently rubbed his fingertips together.
Having lost so much blood, the wound must be quite deep and hurt terribly.
Exhaling another heavy breath, he walked toward the door, paused for a fraction of a second, pulled the door open, and stepped outside.
From the East Annex to the Western Annex, the route cut across the entire garden of the Crown Prince’s residence. The further west they went, the more remote the location and the sparser the scenery.
Stopping outside the courtyard at the very westernmost edge, the guards stationed on both sides immediately saluted upon seeing the Crown Prince.
Stepping into the courtyard, Pei Ji had only taken a few steps when he caught sight of Song Beiyao sitting outside the doorway.
The snow was falling heavily; the youth was wrapped inside a red cloak, his head leaning against the doorframe as he slept, with quite a few snowflakes settling into his hair.
That small face was deathly pale, his brows furrowed uncomfortably while his head kept sliding downward. As Pei Ji approached step by step through the snow, Song Beiyao’s body suddenly tilted to the side, prompting Pei Ji to squat down and cushion his head with the palm of his hand.
Startled awake, Song Beiyao opened his eyes dazedly. His gaze still retained a hazy sleepiness, his slender eyelashes trembling lightly, and the tear mole at the outer corner of his eye was alluring enough to rivet a person’s gaze.
Upon recognizing the person supporting him, the drowsiness in the youth’s eyes was instantly replaced by joy, bright and dazzling like fireworks suddenly blooming across a pitch-black night sky. Smiling softly, he greeted, “Your Highness has come.”
Pei Ji’s gaze lingered on his face for a split second before pulling his hand away and standing up without hesitation: “Go inside and speak.”
Losing his support abruptly, Song Beiyao pitched forward toward the ground; steadying himself just in time, he stood up with difficulty, glanced at the numbers in the bottom-left corner (-193), curved his lips in a faint smile, and stepped into the warm room.
By the table, Ling Shuang was also nodding off while resting his chin in his hand. Walking over to him, Pei Ji crossed his arms over his chest and spoke in a chillingly cool tone: “I’ve seen plenty of servants living more comfortably than their masters, but this is the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on one.”
His head jolting violently downward, Ling Shuang snapped instantly awake. Upon catching sight of Pei Ji, he jumped up and bowed hurriedly: “Greetings, Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince.”
Stepping forward, Song Beiyao tugged twice on the edge of Pei Ji’s robe and said softly, “Your Highness, please don’t blame Ling Shuang. It was I who insisted on waiting at the door for Your Highness.”
Lowering his gaze, Pei Ji glanced at the hand grasping his robe—fair, slender, and delicate. He took a step sideways, shaking that hand off.
Turning back to look at Ling Shuang, Song Beiyao instructed, “Ling Shuang, you can step outside for now.”
Yet Ling Shuang wore an extremely reluctant expression: “It’s so cold outside, and there’s nowhere to stay, I…” Glancing sideways at Pei Ji as though harboring deep misgivings, he bit back the rest of his words.
“The small shed next door will do to tide you over for a bit; the Prince and I will finish talking shortly,” Song Beiyao coaxed him.
Only then did Ling Shuang leave the room with visible reluctance.
As the door clicked shut, Pei Ji mused thoughtfully, “What is going on with this servant of yours?”
Song Beiyao smiled faintly: “Your Highness, do not mind him. Ling Shuang has served in the palace since he was young and is very close to me; I treat him differently than an ordinary servant.”
With that, he retrieved a bottle of medicinal ointment and gauze bandages from the cabinet, handed them to Pei Ji, and flushed slightly: “The wound is on my back, so I have no way to change the dressing myself. I must trouble Your Highness.”
Pei Ji made no move to reach out and take them: “This king assumes that when you had me summoned here, you had matters to discuss.”
“There are indeed matters to discuss,” Song Beiyao blinked at him with a smile, “but I was afraid Your Highness would turn around and leave the moment you heard my words, refusing to help me change my dressing. This was just a little trick of mine—Your Highness won’t hold it against me, will you?”
Narrowing his eyes, Pei Ji stared at Song Beiyao. Those pretty eyes seemed to conceal a measure of anticipation, a hint of craftiness, and a touch of bashfulness.
The vibrant liveliness of an eighteen-year-old youth was fully displayed on this person before him. Pei Ji could not sense any malice, wild delusions, or ulterior motives coming from him whatsoever.
Simplicity, purity, and frankness seemed fitting words to describe this person. Moreover, this person appeared somewhat different from the assassin who killed him in his premonition dream.
Lowering his gaze, Pei Ji expressionlessly took the ointment bottle and gauze. He had no desire to help change bandages, but Song Beiyao’s injury had been sustained on his account, and he had no wish to owe this person a favor.
“Where should we do this?” Pei Ji asked.
Without hesitation, Song Beiyao pointed to the wooden stool beside him: “Right here will do.”