The room was small to begin with, and with a charcoal brazier burning brightly inside, it was pleasantly warm. Song Beiyao untied his cloak and set it aside. He then removed his heavier winter brocade robe, leaving only a white inner garment.
He sat down on the stool and swept all his loose, long hair over to his right shoulder. Lifting his left hand, he wanted to pull the clothes away from his left shoulder, but the movement tugged at his wound, forcing a sharp intake of breath. He had to switch to his right hand, gently pulling the collar aside to reveal a small patch of his shoulder.
Pei Ji lowered his gaze, his eyes sweeping past the youth’s jade-white back of the neck and landing on his shoulder, as he said in a low voice, “Pull the clothes down a bit more; the wound is lower down, you can’t change the dressing like this.”
The collar had its limits, and Song Beiyao lacked strength in his hands. Try as he might, over and over, he could only pull the neckline down a tiny bit, leaving the vast majority of the wound hidden beneath the fabric.
Pei Ji couldn’t watch any longer. He reached out directly and ripped the collar apart with a forceful tug, instantly exposing a large expanse of shoulder and back skin to the air. His grip was heavy and unregulated; as his knuckles brushed against Song Beiyao’s skin, they also grazed right across the gauze covering the wound.
“Hss, it hurts!” Song Beiyao frowned, unable to stop a muffled groan from escaping his lips.
“If it hurts, endure it.” Pei Ji tore away the blood-soaked gauze. The bleeding from the wound had stopped, but the flesh was rolled outward, looking dazzlingly red against the snow-white, jade-like skin.
Pei Ji unscrewed the medicine bottle, poured the powder onto the wound, and then wrapped it layer by layer with fresh gauze. His bandaging technique was extremely skilled; having spent time on the battlefield, getting wounded was an everyday occurrence, and bandaging his own injuries was something he did often.
Once everything was done, he placed the remaining gauze and the medicine bottle on the table, turned around with his arms crossed over his chest, and said, “The medicine has been changed. Now you can tell me Peng Yu’s whereabouts.”
When he finished speaking, however, no reply came. Pei Ji turned back to see Song Beiyao hunched over, half-leaning against the table, motionless.
Pei Ji frowned: “What is it now?”
Song Beiyao raised his head with difficulty. His face was as pale as gold paper, his teeth bit down on his completely bloodless lower lip, and with an expression of enduring agony, he murmured, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, please give me a moment to recover.”
Inside, Pei Ji felt a wave of disdain. It was merely changing a dressing, yet he couldn’t even endure that. Almost immediately, another thought occurred to him: for an assassin, getting injured was likewise an everyday affair; it shouldn’t be possible for him to have this little tolerance.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, quietly sizing up Song Beiyao.
Song Beiyao also seemed to be trying his utmost to suppress the pain, but he was struggling terribly. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead, quickly dampening his temples. He clenched his right fist tightly and parted his lips slightly, breathing heavily—a very typical display of an inability to withstand pain.
“Your Highness,” Song Beiyao soon spoke weakly, “I can tell Your Highness Peng Yu’s whereabouts, but might I ask Your Highness to grant me one condition?”
Pei Ji raised a cold, indifferent brow and asked, “What condition?”
Song Beiyao knew that Pei Ji was already at the absolute limit of his patience with his repeated stalling and bargaining. He looked up at Pei Ji, revealing a trace of shyness as he said, “I wish to share a cup of nuptial wine with Your Highness.”
This request was by no means excessive, and he could clearly sense the tense muscles on Pei Ji’s face relax slightly.
“This prince promises you; once Peng Yu is found, we will share the nuptial wine.” Pei Ji replied.
Having his word was enough.
“Peng Yu is in Luling County, Northern Qi.” Song Beiyao stopped dragging it out and blurted it out directly.
Hearing this, Pei Ji lowered his eyelids to ponder for a moment. Leaving behind a single “Understood,” he turned to leave.
“Why doesn’t Your Highness ask how I came to know this?” Song Beiyao called out to question him.
Pei Ji had already walked to the door. Standing with his back to Song Beiyao, his silhouette was as broad and sturdy as a mountain. He stated, “How you know it is not important to this prince; what matters is whether he is actually there.”
“The dressing will need to be changed the next two days as well. Can Your Highness come?” Song Beiyao asked softly.
“This prince should have made it clear: you and I will never truly be husband and wife. You don’t need to follow Zhaoguo’s customs; you can just have a servant help you change the dressing.”
With that, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the howling wind and snow.
Before long, Ling Feng trotted in wrapped tightly in a cloak: “I’m freezing to death, seriously freezing to death! You have no idea how cold it is outside right now! I am definitely not helping you put on this act again next time!”
He shut the door properly, shook the snow off his body, and upon turning back to catch the expression on Song Beiyao’s face, immediately hurried over: “What is it? Did Pei Ji beat you up? Why are you pulling such an agonizing face?”
Song Beiyao closed his eyes briefly and then opened them. In a single second, he dropped the act, his expression returning completely to normal. With a half-raised brow toward Ling Feng and a smile carrying the warmth of a spring breeze, he asked, “How do you see me now?”
Ling Feng stared in utter astonishment and gave a thumbs-up: “Your speed at switching faces is truly peerless. How can you be this amazing? Just a second ago, I really thought something was wrong with you!”
Song Beiyao smiled and didn’t answer him. For three years, he had studied, polished, and refined his acting skills day and night; he never expected it would come in handy here.
It was just that normally, acting came with intermission breaks, and a poorly shot take could be retried, but in front of Pei Ji, it had to be done in a single unbroken take without the slightest margin for error.
He glanced at the number in the lower left corner: -190. In the original book, Pei Ji personally traveled to Northern Qi to retrieve Peng Yu and would be away from the manor for several days; this number should be enough to last through those days.
Extremely exhausted, he said to Ling Feng, “It’s getting late, let’s sleep.”
“All right, then I’ll sleep on the chair.”
Song Beiyao pulled him back: “You’re sharing the bed with me tonight.”
Ling Feng shook his head like a rattle-drum: “Men in your Zhaoguo don’t even let other men see their bodies when they marry; how can we share a bed? I can’t be so unreasonable to your local customs.”
“…” Song Beiyao was caught between laughter and tears, “I’m not actually marrying Pei Ji.”
“Ah, ah?” Ling Feng came to his senses and rubbed his chin, “Hiss, I suppose that’s true.”
“Besides, the two of us will each have our own quilt, sleeping separately without interfering with each other.” Song Beiyao blinked at him.
Ling Feng averted his gaze: “Fine, sleeping with you is fine, just stop looking at me with that kind of expression.”
“What kind of expression?”
“It’s just… tsk, I can’t describe it.”
“Ling Feng, are you sleeping on the inside or the outside?”
“I’m fine with either… I’ll sleep on the outside.”
“No can do. I want to sleep on the outside.”
“Then why did you even ask me???”
It was the end of December and freezing cold. The snow from the previous day had piled up three feet deep; though it wasn’t snowing today, the thawing weather made the cold even more bone-chilling.
Early in the morning, just as the sky was turning bright, Pei Ji finished his martial arts practice, returned to his room for a quick bath, dressed neatly, and headed to the dining hall.
Steward Zhang was waiting early; seeing that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince had arrived, he signaled the servants to serve breakfast. When Pei Ji took his seat, all the breakfast dishes were already laid out, steaming hot. The servants withdrew one after another, and Steward Zhang silently followed them toward the exit.
“What is Steward Zhang doing?” Pei Ji called out.
Steward Zhang stopped in his tracks, lowering his head: “This old servant knows he is guilty and will not stay here to be an eyesore in front of Your Highness.”
Pei Ji narrowed his eyes: “Oh? Tell me, what is your crime?”
Steward Zhang buried his head even lower: “This old servant should not have acted on his own yesterday and said those things to Your Highness. Nor should he have spoken up for the Secondary Consort simply because he likes him. And he certainly shouldn’t have pointed fingers at Your Highness’s inner courtyard affairs, overstepping his duties.”
“Likes the Secondary Consort?” Pei Ji seized upon a key point and said expressionlessly, “He has only been in the manor for a few days, yet Steward Zhang is already using the word ‘likes.’ This prince remembers that when the Marquis of Nanan’s heir came to stay in the manor for two or three months last year, you didn’t say a single good word on his behalf.”
Steward Zhang let out a silent sigh in his heart. Although that heir of the Marquis of Nanan was also a man of outstanding talent, clear as a autumn moon, and exceedingly brilliant, he was far too intensely eager toward His Royal Highness the Crown Prince! But! But! His kindness toward His Royal Highness was carried out with an agenda! Wasn’t it just wanting to marry Your Highness and become the Crown Princess?!
That pair of eyes looked crafty at first glance, full of wicked little schemes! One moment he pretended to fall to make Your Highness feel heartache, the next he half-exposed his collarbones to try and seduce Your Highness, and he was always inviting Your Highness out for late-night drinks to chat truly unorthodox and scheming!
Unlike the one in the detached courtyard: of willow-like grace and sickly constitution, yet he could block a sword for Your Highness. Just standing there quietly was enough to make one feel protective. Despite his peerless appearance, he didn’t exploit it in the least; he didn’t contend, didn’t fight, didn’t cry, and didn’t make a fuss, solely wishing for Your Highness’s well-being.
Were these two even comparable?!
Steward Zhang straightened up slightly and said with a serious expression, “Your Highness, this old servant believes that no matter how much old Chang says, if Your Highness refuses to agree, it’s all empty talk. It would be better for Your Highness to discover the Secondary Consort’s good qualities on your own.”
Pei Ji let out a light “heh” and set down his bowls and chopsticks: “Steward Zhang, looking at you, you really are getting old and smitten by a ghostly infatuation.”
Steward Zhang: “…”
“This prince is setting off for Northern Qi today and will return in about three or four days. Pick a clever servant from the manor and send them to the detached courtyard to keep an eye on things; report back to me if anything happens when I return.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Steward Zhang smiled inwardly. Saying he didn’t like him, yet still caring quite a bit after all.
…
Song Beiyao was awakened by a gasp of shock.
“Good heavens! Secondary Consort! This, this…” The gasp wasn’t loud, but Song Beiyao was a light sleeper and woke up almost immediately.
The door was wide open, and the servant standing at the entrance had his mouth agape in terror, looking bewildered, thunderstruck, and like he had just discovered some earth-shattering secret as his gaze bounced back and forth between the two people on the bed.
Song Beiyao pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing he had been misunderstood, and helplessly said, “You should close the door first.”
Ling Feng beside him was sleeping like a dead pig, completely unaware of what had happened. His arms and legs were stretched out completely outside the quilt, draped lazily over Song Beiyao’s blanket, making the two of them look as if they were tightly embracing each other no wonder someone would misunderstand.
Song Beiyao let out a mental sigh, knowing he had to clear this up.
“It’s not what you think,” he explained softly. “There’s only one bed in this room, so…”
“This little one understands, this little one understands!” the servant babbled repeatedly. “I beg the Secondary Consort to spare my life; this little one will definitely not tell His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!”
“What about telling the Crown Prince?” Ling Feng suddenly woke up, sitting straight up from the bed, the quilt sliding down to reveal his bare, lean upper body.
The servant: “!!!!!!!!!”
Song Beiyao’s temple twitched as he asked with a resentful tone, “Ling Feng, why do you sleep without your clothes?”
Ling Feng clearly hadn’t processed the situation yet; his eyes were half-open, and his speech was muddled: “You don’t take your clothes off when you sleep? Aren’t you hot with this charcoal brazier burning so bright all night?”
When it finally clicked, he violently grabbed the quilt to shield his chest and shrieked in horror, “Whoa! How did an extra person get in the room?!”
The servant threw himself to the ground with a loud thud: “I beg the two lords, this little one has been in the manor for five years and has never even laid eyes on His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, and won’t have a chance to in the future either. I swear I will never speak a word of what I saw today!”
Song Beiyao kicked Ling Feng aside with one foot, got up from the bed, put on his clothes, and walked over to help the servant up.
The servant was so frightened he was on the verge of tears, looking up at Song Beiyao to plead for mercy. When he saw that face up close, his gaze went blank for a second, the words stuck in his throat.
“Don’t be afraid. It doesn’t matter even if you tell the Crown Prince,” Song Beiyao said with a smile in his voice and gentleness in his eyes.
“N-n-no matter?” The servant’s brain failed to process it for a moment. Steward Zhang had specifically instructed him that His Royal Highness had personally sent him to serve the Secondary Consort in the detached courtyard, which meant everything concerning the Secondary Consort had to be reported to His Highness.
Who could have anticipated running into such a scene right off the bat.
“Mm, it doesn’t matter,” Song Beiyao continued to look at him gently, “What is your name?”
The servant had heard other servants mention that the newly entered Secondary Consort possessed an extraordinary face, alluring like a fox spirit who would surely bewitch His Highness and distract him from his proper duties. Yet looking at him now, he only found this Secondary Consort gentle and unpretentious, making it impossible not to feel a sense of affinity—even if the Crown Prince were infatuated with him, it wouldn’t be without reason.
He swallowed hard and spoke in a low voice: “This little one is called Li Liansheng.”
“Liansheng, it was Steward Zhang who sent you to wait on me, wasn’t it? There isn’t much work here, and there’s no extra place for you to live. You only need to come over for half a day during the daytime,” Song Beiyao smiled.
“H-half a day…?” Liansheng’s eyes widened. There was such a sweet deal as this?
“That’s right, half a day,” Song Beiyao blinked at him. “The rest of the time is all yours. If Steward Zhang asks, just tell him I ordered it.”
Liansheng suddenly realized there was only this single room in the courtyard. He cast a few more glances toward the bed: “Then, then…”
“That’s Ling Feng. He’s been following me for many years and also had nowhere to sleep, so I let him share a bed with me last night,” Song Beiyao smiled helplessly, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry for making a fool of yourself.”
Liansheng lowered his gaze silently; so it really was just a misunderstanding. Such a wonderful person as the Secondary Consort was locked away by the Crown Prince in this remote, cramped dwelling.
He resolved that he must find a way to put in a good word for the Secondary Consort in front of His Highness!