What was even more unbearable was that Ji Xun kept laughing.
Chu Zhaohuai dared to be angry but not say a word. Grumbling under his breath, he pushed the wheelchair for quite a while before finally getting “Ji the Sarcastic” back to the bedchamber.
After returning to the residence, Chu Zhaohuai had told the steward that there was no need to put a charcoal brazier in the bedchamber. In the middle of winter, stepping inside was like walking into an ice cave. With the windows wide open and the cold wind blowing through, he couldn’t help shivering discreetly.
If he had to sleep there for an entire night, wouldn’t he freeze to death?
Ji Xun wandered around in thin clothes even in winter, clearly unable to tolerate heat.
Chu Zhaohuai was used to living under someone else’s roof. After worrying for a long while, he didn’t say another word. He washed up and awkwardly climbed onto the bed.
For now, he should worry about what to do if the prince suddenly became beastly later and forced himself on him.
After bathing in cold water, Ji Xun was pushed back to the bedchamber by Yin Chongshan. He couldn’t be bothered to dry his hair, so his wet black hair hung down his back as he lowered his eyes and casually read the letter in his hand.
Chu Zhaohuai was on the bed, staring at the silk quilt, which wasn’t much thicker than his cloak. When he heard the noise, he was so startled that his braid nearly stood on end. Like a quail, he immediately burrowed under the quilt.
Ji Xun’s voice drifted over. He seemed to be talking to Yin Chongshan.
“That’s all?”
Yin Chongshan replied, “The journey to and from Jiangnan takes too long. With the six-hundred-li emergency report, this is all we could find for now. More detailed information will probably take another two days.”
Chu Zhaohuai listened from beneath the quilt.
The words “six-hundred-li emergency report” caught his attention, and he couldn’t help wondering to himself:
Are they discussing some major matter concerning the imperial court?
Ji Xun asked again, “What about the divine physician?”
“The divine physician is extremely difficult to track down. He has spent years wandering around the mountains and villages treating people, and he always covers his face, so no one knows what he really looks like. Just now, we received a message by carrier pigeon from Zhou Huanfei. It seems he has found someone claiming to be the divine physician. He should be able to arrive secretly in the capital the day after tomorrow.”
Ji Xun hummed in acknowledgment.
Chu Zhaohuai was just about to listen more carefully when the sound of the wheelchair rolling closer gradually approached the bed.
He was so startled that he was like a rabbit in a burrow, his ears practically standing straight up.
Soon, the bed gave a faint creak as someone sat down.
Chu Zhaohuai’s heart nearly jumped out of his throat. His slender fingers gripped the quilt tightly, and he couldn’t help trembling slightly, terrified that his “doom” had finally arrived.
But after waiting anxiously for quite some time, Ji Xun still made no move.
He didn’t even say a word.
Chu Zhaohuai finally gathered his courage, lifted the quilt, and cautiously poked his messy head out.
He glanced over.
Ji Xun was sitting there in thin clothes, calmly reading several sheets of paper by the candlelight. He didn’t seem interested in paying Chu Zhaohuai any attention.
Chu Zhaohuai swallowed with difficulty.
He didn’t want to sit there anxiously waiting for something unknown, so he decided to face the problem head-on. He reached out and lightly tugged at Ji Xun’s loose sleeve with two fingers.
“Your Highness? What are you… looking at?”
Ji Xun lowered his eyes and handed him the papers.
“Princess Consort, would you like to take a look?”
Chu Zhaohuai quickly shook his head.
A six-hundred-li emergency report was obviously related to military affairs. How could he dare look at it?
Ji Xun didn’t force him.
“If you’re tired, go to sleep first.”
Chu Zhaohuai froze and looked up at him.
Ji Xun tilted his head.
“Or perhaps the Princess Consort is eager to consummate—”
Before he could finish the word “marriage,” Chu Zhaohuai immediately pulled the quilt over himself and began snoring loudly.
Ji Xun: “…”
Ji Xun seemed to let out a short laugh before turning his attention back to the few thin sheets of paper.
The urgent report sent six hundred li from Lin’an in Jiangnan began with a single line:
“Chu Zhaohuai of the Bai Family of Lin’an.”
Chu Zhaohuai’s history in the capital was easy to investigate. Two lines were enough to summarize it:
His biological mother died when he was five. He was bullied and mistreated. At seven, the Imperial Preceptor declared that his fate was inauspicious, so he was sent to Jiangnan to recuperate.
Yet after investigating his eleven years in Jiangnan, they had managed to uncover only two and a half sheets of pale-green paper.
Just like Chu Zhaohuai himself, hardly anyone had ever paid much attention to him.
His maternal grandfather from the Bai family did care about him quite a lot. But in a powerful and wealthy family like the Bai family, such favoritism could become a blade that cost someone their life. They were always afraid that an outsider like him would take away part of the family’s wealth and property.
After enduring years of neglect, Chu Zhaohuai had finally learned, stumbling and struggling, to live cautiously like a mouse hiding in a corner.
Ji Xun skimmed through the report at a glance before casually placing it on the small table beside the bed.
He had little interest in it.
He had originally thought the Eastern Palace’s move of using the Marquis of Zhenyuan’s residence to arrange this “substitute marriage” was some brilliant strategy.
He hadn’t expected it to be so ridiculously foolish.
How boring.
Ji Xun lowered his eyes toward the person on the bed.
Chu Zhaohuai, who had been trembling with fear just moments ago, must have been exhausted. In such a short time, he had already fallen asleep.
Half his head poked out from beneath the quilt. His gauze veil had slipped crookedly, revealing the faint outline of one tightly closed eye.
A discarded pawn of the Marquis of Zhenyuan’s residence.
Keeping him would be useless.
Ji Xun slowly reached out toward Chu Zhaohuai’s slender neck.
Those long, straight hands had taken countless lives. Against the black gauze covering his eyes, they looked unnaturally pale, like the hands of a vengeful ghost come to claim a life.
Chu Zhaohuai knew nothing.
His hands and feet were curled up as he slept soundly.
Ji Xun’s hand, cold as ice, finally settled against Chu Zhaohuai’s neck.
His thumb and two fingers suddenly tightened.
In an instant, they closed around that dazzlingly pale throat.
With only the slightest bit of force, he could snap the fragile neck as easily as breaking the stem of a lotus flower.
A faint medicinal fragrance drifted from Chu Zhaohuai’s body.
As if sensing something, he frowned slightly and suddenly reached out to grab Ji Xun’s wrist.
Ji Xun’s eyes remained cold as he waited for him to wake.
But Chu Zhaohuai suddenly murmured sleepily,
“Mother…”
Ji Xun’s hand paused.
Clinging to Ji Xun’s wrist, Chu Zhaohuai instinctively rubbed his face against the palm of his hand.
He was far too sleepy to wake up. Even when Ji Xun’s icy hand made him shiver violently, he still didn’t let go.
He murmured,
“Mother… Xiaoshui is cold.”
Ji Xun looked at him indifferently.
Begging warmth from the very person who had given him nothing but coldness.
People who were too foolish often didn’t live very long.
Ji Xun was about to move again when Chu Zhaohuai, perhaps having found a source of warmth, shifted slightly and moved closer to him.
Yet even though he was trembling from the cold and desperately seeking warmth, he still didn’t dare come too close.
He merely reached out timidly and tugged at Ji Xun’s sleeve.
Pitiful, yet obedient.
Like a fledgling struggling helplessly in the wind and rain, able to survive only by relying on someone else.
Ji Xun lowered his eyes and watched the person curled into such a tiny ball for a long time.
Then, suddenly, he smiled.
In the dead of night, beneath the dim candlelight, he seemed like a ghost changing faces. His expression abruptly softened.
Through the thin gauze, he gently stroked Chu Zhaohuai’s face, as though he had caught hold of the damp wings of a little bird that no one wanted.
His eyes remained cold, but his expression was pleased.
That twisted desire to possess and control had gained a satisfaction unlike anything he had ever felt before.
“Good. Go to sleep.”
Chu Zhaohuai wasn’t conscious enough to understand the words. The gentle voice soothed him, and he sank even deeper into sleep.
In his dream, Madam Bai sat beneath the warm candlelight, gently patting his chest now and then, just as she had when he was a child, soothing him to sleep.
Gradually, Chu Zhaohuai seemed to be lifted into someone’s arms and carried a few steps.
Then the bone-chilling cold disappeared, replaced by waves of warmth that wrapped tightly around him.
His entire body sank completely into warm darkness.
When Chu Zhaohuai regained consciousness, it was already morning.
Even though his eyes were open, his vision remained dark.
He struggled to sit up and fumbled around for a while before realizing that the gauze veil on his face had slipped down and was covering his eyes.
After fixing the veil, Chu Zhaohuai yawned and casually glanced around.
Then he froze.
This wasn’t the bed he had fallen asleep on last night.
The unfamiliar surroundings looked like an independent little room. It was spacious, with everything exquisitely crafted from wood. It resembled an expensive four-poster canopy bed that would be difficult to find anywhere outside. There was even a wooden platform extending beyond the bed.
His shabby little dowry cabinet sat beside it, looking completely out of place next to the exquisite carved folding screen.
A charcoal brazier had been placed inside the room. By now, it had burned down to pale ash, but the remaining heat had warmed the entire room until it felt like spring.
Chu Zhaohuai blinked and stared for a while.
Then he suddenly lay back down and closed his eyes.
I must be dreaming.
I’ll wake up again.
Soon, Chu Zhaohuai took another nap and woke up.
The scene around him had not changed.
Chu Zhaohuai was dumbfounded for quite some time before hurriedly putting on his clothes and running outside.
This was still the bedchamber of Prince Jing’s residence.
Outside the canopy bed, it was as cold as an ice cellar. The windows were wide open, and the bed he had slept on last night was empty.
Prince Jing was already gone.
What on earth had happened?
Chu Zhaohuai felt that in just eight short days, he had already learned what it meant for the imperial family to possess limitless extravagance.
But the deeper he got into it, the more he realized that these detestable, wealthy members of the imperial family were incredibly creative when it came to spending money.
In just one night, such an expensive canopy bed had somehow been moved into Prince Jing’s bedchamber without him noticing.
Didn’t they need to place an order and wait half a year for it to arrive?!
Back in Jiangnan, Chu Zhaohuai had to line up for one or two hours just to buy a piece of candy.
Now that he had truly experienced the Prince Jing residence’s wealth and power, he silently clutched his chest.
In my next life, I absolutely have to be born rich.
Just as he was mentally cursing Ji Xun for being such a spendthrift, the steward’s voice came from the doorway.
“Princess Consort.”
Chu Zhaohuai straightened his messy clothes and told him to come in.
The old steward looked kind and amiable. After entering and bowing respectfully, he stepped aside.
Several guards from the residence carried three large chests inside.
Chu Zhaohuai looked puzzled.
“What are these?”
The steward smiled warmly.
“Reporting to the Princess Consort, these are freshly delivered candied oranges. Before dawn, His Highness specifically ordered the servants to go to Minghu Harbor and select the freshest ones.”
Chu Zhaohuai let out an “Ah” and hesitantly asked,
“All… all for me?”
“Indeed.”
No one had ever cared so much about Chu Zhaohuai.
When he heard the words “specifically ordered,” his first thought was:
Has His Highness finally gone mad?
Otherwise, why would he suddenly treat him so well for no reason?
Chu Zhaohuai cautiously asked,
“Where is His Highness?”
“The Young Heir beat up the son of a duke’s household last night. The imperial decree came down this morning, so His Highness went to the palace to have his salary docked,” the steward explained.
Chu Zhaohuai: “…”
His salary was docked?
He seemed to have heard of that before.
Prince Jing had always done whatever he pleased. Even if he openly killed someone, His Majesty could do little about it and could only dock some of his salary as punishment.
It was said that after so many years, Prince Jing’s salary had already been docked all the way through the next ten years.
Chu Zhaohuai frowned.
His salary has already been docked ten years into the future, so how is Ji Xun still spending money so recklessly?
These three chests of candied oranges were practically enough to cover his expenses for an entire year.
What a wasteful man.
Worried about Ji Xun’s finances, Chu Zhaohuai peeled one of the candied oranges and took a bite.
His eyes immediately lit up.
He began eating one piece after another without stopping.
Three chests aren’t enough.
It would be nice if there were a little more.
Just as he was happily eating, a gentle voice came from the doorway.
“Princess Consort.”
Chu Zhaohuai looked over.
Liang Fang was supporting Ji Yi as the two of them slowly made their way inside.
Ji Yi’s legs were trembling like sieves. Every step made them shake twice. He was grimacing as if he had suffered terribly.
Now that Chu Zhaohuai had suddenly become rich, he was no longer as stingy as before.
He stuffed an entire peeled orange into his mouth. His cheeks bulged like a little mouse stealing food, and he asked indistinctly,
“What happened to you? Did your father secretly beat you in the middle of the night?”
“Would my father need to beat me secretly?” Ji Yi rolled his eyes.
Liang Fang said gently,
“The Young Heir was ordered by Commander Yin to hold a horse stance for an hour this morning. He exhausted himself.”
Chu Zhaohuai took another bite of orange.
“Oh.”
The Young Heir really is weak.
These two really are a perfect pair of weaklings.
Ji Yi felt that Chu Zhaohuai’s “oh” carried a deeper meaning.
He struggled to take another step, hoping to explain himself.
“Yin Chongshan must have it in for me. Who trains in martial arts by holding a horse stance for an entire hour?! The fact that I can still walk right now already proves I’m strong and healthy—ah!”
The moment he finished speaking, the supposedly strong and healthy Young Heir’s leg gave way.
Liang Fang was weak himself and couldn’t support him.
With a loud thump, Ji Yi dropped to his knees and performed a full kowtow toward Chu Zhaohuai.
Chu Zhaohuai: “…”
Without pausing his chewing at all, Chu Zhaohuai said,
“I only said a few words on your behalf. Even if you’re thanking me, there’s no need for such a grand gesture.”
Ji Yi: “…”
Ji Yi gritted his teeth and struggled back to his feet.
“Who said I came to thank you? I came to find my father… Ow! Can’t you stop eating those stupid oranges? If you like them so much, I’ll send you eight huge chests another day and turn your face yellow from eating them.”
“Your father went to the palace to clean up the mess you made.”
Chu Zhaohuai finally put down the orange.
“What do you want?”
Ji Yi obviously knew that Ji Xun had gone to the palace.
He was probably just using that as an excuse because he had something to discuss with Chu Zhaohuai.
Ji Yi frowned.
He had never been good at hiding things.
He had spent the entire night tossing and turning over this matter without sleeping. After hesitating for a long while, he finally got straight to the point.
“Who are you, really?”
Chu Zhaohuai froze.
“I know Chu Zhaojiang well. His gambling skills are unbelievably terrible. Every year, when guanpu gambling is opened in the capital on Little New Year’s Eve, he loses the most.”
Ji Yi looked at him seriously.
“But your gambling skills are practically supernatural. There’s no way you could be him.”
Chu Zhaohuai’s pupils trembled violently.
His wrist went limp, and the candied oranges hidden inside his sleeve rolled out onto the floor one after another.
Seeing how frightened he looked, Ji Yi’s heart skipped a beat.
He awkwardly said,
“Don’t worry. If you… if you were forced into this, I’ll plead with my father on your behalf—”
Before he could finish, Chu Zhaohuai suddenly sprang to his feet.
His face was filled with disbelief.
“On Little New Year’s Eve in the capital… they actually open the gambling games?!”
Liang Fang: “…”
Ji Yi: “…”
Was THAT really the important part?!