Chu Zhaohuai gripped his wedding robe tightly, unable to tell whether Ji Xun was being serious.
In the bridal chamber, two tall-footed wine cups decorated with dragon and phoenix designs had been prepared for the nuptial wine. Ji Xun had been lying in bed for half a month, and even the way he poured the wine was remarkably casual. His fingers were slender and long, hardly resembling those of a man who had spent years on the battlefield. Instead, he looked more like a true imperial nobleman who had been raised among silk and luxury.
Ji Xun held the two wine cups between his fingers and casually handed one to Chu Zhaohuai.
“Princess Consort, please.”
Chu Zhaohuai hesitated before accepting the cup.
Everyone in the capital had heard that the God of Death, Ji Xun, did not have long to live and probably would not survive past Little New Year. Yet Ji Xun showed none of the weakness of a dying man. After sleeping for half a month, he had woken up and enthusiastically killed several assassins, even celebrating the occasion quite extravagantly.
Could this be a final burst of vitality before death?
It didn’t really look like it.
“Clack.”
Chu Zhaohuai came back to his senses. Ji Xun had already downed his cup of nuptial wine, then casually tossed the jade cup aside and leaned half-reclined against the large wedding bed, looking slightly tired.
“What is it?” Ji Xun asked.
The man’s smiling eyes were clearly as gentle as warm spring sunshine, yet they made Chu Zhaohuai instinctively afraid. It was like the fear he had felt as a child when he encountered a wolf alone in the mountains during a heavy snowstorm.
That fear came from the instinct of being hunted as prey.
It made his hair stand on end.
Chu Zhaohuai didn’t dare say anything more. He slowly finished his wine and properly placed the cup on the small table.
Ji Xun said nothing. He simply stared at him.
Chu Zhaohuai felt increasingly nervous.
The wedding matron had plastered layer upon layer of thick makeup onto his face. Even the slightest smile could probably cause the makeup to crack apart like a ravine splitting open.
Looking at a face like this…
Surely it couldn’t inspire any desire, right?
Chu Zhaohuai’s brain worked so hard it nearly smoked, yet he couldn’t come up with a foolproof plan. In the end, he decided to just throw caution to the wind and climbed onto the bed first.
The wedding robe had been bestowed by the imperial court. Every pattern had been embroidered with gold and silver thread, and it was covered in layer upon layer of complicated decorations. Chu Zhaohuai deliberately took his time removing it, taking so long to undo a single button that it seemed he could have spent an eternity on it.
Ji Xun didn’t expose his little trick. He merely lounged against the bright-red pillows, watching him with a faint, amused smile.
As though he were enjoying a good show.
Chu Zhaohuai noticed the teasing look in Ji Xun’s eyes. He froze for a moment before suddenly recalling the thought he’d had earlier that day:
If we both die on the road to the Yellow Springs, at least there’ll be more people. It’ll be lively.
It was strangely calm yet completely unhinged.
If Ji Xun didn’t mind his face, then so be it.
Chu Zhaohuai abruptly stopped moving slowly. He didn’t even bother taking off the wedding robe. He simply removed his phoenix crown, let his long hair fall loose, and crawled on his knees toward Ji Xun.
His eyes fell on Ji Xun’s loosely tied collar. Pretending to be completely calm, he said, “Forgive me for offending Your Highness.”
Ji Xun raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting to see how exactly he intended to offend him.
It was probably nothing more than undoing his collar…
Chu Zhaohuai leaned down.
Ji Xun’s fingers, hanging at his side, suddenly curled inward. His dark pupils widened for an instant.
Chu Zhaohuai didn’t use his hands.
Instead, he lowered his head, caught one end of the thin tie at Ji Xun’s collar between his teeth, and tugged lightly.
The faint friction of the tied fabric seemed to be magnified countless times, echoing loudly in Ji Xun’s ears.
The gesture was almost blatantly seductive.
Yet, because Chu Zhaohuai was doing it with a face that looked like a vengeful ghost coming to claim someone’s life in the middle of the night, there wasn’t the slightest trace of sensuality to it.
Ji Xun’s gaze darkened.
Chu Zhaohuai bit open the loosely tied collar, then raised his head and boldly looked at him.
“Your High—”
Ji Xun reached out and grabbed Chu Zhaohuai’s chin. His hand came away covered in powder, but he didn’t seem to mind. Smiling, he said, “Didn’t the young marquis curse me as a dead pervert and a short-lived ghost? And yet now you’re willingly offering yourself to me. What did Chu Jing say to persuade you?”
Chu Zhaohuai stiffened.
Seeing that Ji Xun had already laid everything out in the open, he stopped with the obviously fake polite words. Still holding the tie between his teeth, he answered honestly,
“He said you don’t have long to live. Once we outlast you, the entire Prince Jing’s residence will belong to me.”
Those words were clearly meant to curse someone to death, yet Ji Xun wasn’t angry at all.
Instead, he began laughing strangely, almost as though he were sick.
“That’s not wrong. Now that the Princess Consort has entered the residence, and we’ve drunk the nuptial wine and consummated the marriage, if I really suffer some misfortune and die young, then naturally the entire Prince Jing’s residence will belong to you.”
Chu Zhaohuai’s eyelid twitched.
Are we… really going to consummate the marriage?
Ji Xun brushed Chu Zhaohuai aside and got off the bed.
The bed curtains fell down, blocking the view of his tall figure.
Chu Zhaohuai’s heart was in turmoil. Sitting nervously beside the bed, he stammered, “Your Highness… where are you going?”
Without looking back, Ji Xun replied,
“To bathe. Wait here.”
Chu Zhaohuai: “…”
Chu Zhaohuai looked as though someone had died.
It’s over.
Even with a face painted into this horrifying mess, he can still get aroused? This God of Death really does have twisted tastes!
Never in his life had Chu Zhaohuai imagined that one day he would have to worry about being forced into a relationship with a man.
The bridal chamber was also cold enough to feel like an ice cave. Shivering, he hugged his arms and sat on the bed, wishing he could simply bang his head against something and die.
That pillar looks pretty solid.
No, wait. That golden incense burner looks even better.
If I die by smashing my head against that, at least it would be worth it.
By the time Ji Xun had been bathing for more than an hour, Chu Zhaohuai had already imagined countless ways to die. He had spent all that time anxious, terrified, desperate, and nearly driven mad.
Then, belatedly, he realized something.
Wait.
Does an ordinary person really need this long to take a bath?
Chu Zhaohuai lifted the bed curtain.
At some point, the wide-open window of the bridal chamber had been closed. The bone-chilling cold seemed to have eased considerably. The candles in the outer room had been extinguished, leaving only a single lamp burning in the inner chamber.
Chu Zhaohuai was stunned.
Ji Xun… couldn’t he have been deliberately trying to scare me?
In a secluded courtyard beside the study of Prince Jing’s residence.
It was the bitterly cold twelfth lunar month, yet the bathing tub was filled with icy water.
Ji Xun removed his inner garment and stepped into the tub. He closed his eyes and leaned against the edge.
His bloodstained black hair floated in the water, spreading wisps of red through the clear water like ink.
He ordered Yin Chongshan,
“Anyone who leaves the residence tonight—kill them on the spot.”
Yin Chongshan bowed and acknowledged the order.
A howling winter wind blew through the window lattice.
A thin layer of ice had already formed over the water in the tub, spreading from the hideous scar around Ji Xun’s neck. White frost covered the wound.
Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Ji Xun asked,
“Who is he?”
Yin Chongshan assumed Ji Xun had forgotten again and answered smoothly,
“Chu Zhaojiang, the one who cursed you in the street…”
“His face.”
Ji Xun interrupted him. His voice was lazy, as though he had just woken up.
“That face isn’t Chu Zhaojiang’s.”
Yin Chongshan sucked in a sharp breath.
His master couldn’t even remember the faces of the current emperor and his own heir. Even his subordinates, who had followed him for more than ten years, were sometimes asked every few days who was who.
How could he possibly remember the face of Chu Zhaojiang, whom he had only seen once or twice?
Heavens above.
Has His Highness finally lost his mind?
Yin Chongshan tried to find a tactful way of saying it without hurting his master’s pride.
After hesitating, he said, “Your Highness only saw Chu Zhaojiang once around the New Year last year. And you were quite far away at the time. Did you really see his face clearly?”
Ji Xun opened his eyes and looked at him.
Yin Chongshan’s tactful attempt had clearly failed.
He immediately lowered his head and apologized.
“This subordinate deserves death. I’ll investigate at once.”
Ji Xun didn’t hold it against him.
He lifted his fingers, which were nearly blue from the cold, and brought them beneath his nose, taking a sniff. His expression remained absent-minded.
“Put out the incense. And bring another charcoal brazier over.”
Yin Chongshan froze.
The powerful medicine Ji Xun had taken for years contained ingredients that generated intense internal heat. Even in the freezing winter, he wore only thin clothes and still felt unbearably hot inside. He wouldn’t even touch hot tea.
Yet on the very first day his new Princess Consort had arrived, he had actually made an exception.
Yin Chongshan had followed Ji Xun for many years, but for the moment he still couldn’t figure out what his master meant.
He could only silently suppress his shock, accept the order, and leave.
Daylight had fully broken.
Chu Zhaohuai had remained anxious until late into the night. After finally determining that Ji Xun wasn’t coming back to force himself upon him, he relaxed completely.
He didn’t know whether he had fallen asleep or simply passed out from exhaustion.
All night, he had one nightmare after another.
At dawn, he was frightened awake by the image of Ji Xun opening his bloody, monstrous mouth and trying to bite him.
Fortunately, once he woke up, Ji Xun was nowhere to be seen in the bridal chamber.
A charcoal brazier beside the bed was burning brightly, though Chu Zhaohuai had no idea when someone had brought it in. Wrapped in the thin quilt, he no longer felt cold.
Looking listless, Chu Zhaohuai sat up and checked his own pulse.
According to what his maternal grandfather had told him, when his mother had been pregnant with him, she had been frightened after getting into a conflict with a concubine and Chu Jing. As a result, Chu Zhaohuai had been born prematurely and nearly died.
After years of careful treatment and nourishment, he had survived, but was still left with an incurable heart condition.
He had endured one fright after another the previous night without actually having an attack, but the sudden emotional ups and downs had still taken a toll on his body.
His throat was even hoarse.
Chu Zhaohuai got out of bed, intending to find some water to drink.
As he did, he accidentally glanced at the mirror beside him.
His face was still covered in layers of rouge and powder.
He nearly frightened himself.
He had been too frightened and hungry the previous night, and his entire body had been exhausted. He had fallen asleep without even washing his face.
Now, traces of yesterday’s makeup still remained on his skin, while the lip rouge had smeared into a messy patch on his chin.
It looked rather terrifying.
Since they shared the same father but different mothers, Chu Zhaohuai and Chu Zhaojiang did indeed look somewhat alike around the eyes and brows.
Chu Zhaohuai changed out of the heavy wedding robe and began thinking about how he could naturally disguise his appearance.
According to proper wedding customs, he was supposed to return to his family home the day after tomorrow.
As long as no one recognized him during these two days, he could simply return to the Chu family and dump this troublesome burden back where it belonged.
Just as he thought of this, a commotion erupted outside the bridal chamber.
“Young Master, please stop! His Highness ordered that you must not—”
“Get lost! My father would never punish me over some outsider! That bastard has fallen from power now, so of course I’m going to kick him while he’s down! Let him wait to die!”
“Young Master… His Highness will be furious if he finds out!”
Chu Zhaohuai’s lips twitched.
An old acquaintance of Chu Zhaojiang?
Don’t tell me I’m really this unlucky.
The red wedding decorations and silk ribbons had already been removed from the bridal chamber.
“Bang!”
The carved wooden door was kicked open.
A richly dressed young nobleman came swaggering in, surrounded by several attendants. He looked very much like he had come looking for trouble.
Chu Zhaohuai turned toward the sound.
The young man wore a dark-green robe with a fox-fur cloak draped over it. His eyes were practically rolled toward the heavens.
His facial features bore some resemblance to Ji Xun’s, but unlike Ji Xun, he possessed none of that terrifying killing aura or the sinister darkness hidden beneath a handsome appearance.
One look at him was enough to tell that he was an ignorant, idle young man with absolutely nothing in his head.
…Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said something as stupid as, “The tiger has fallen onto the plains, so I’m going to bully him while I can.”
Chu Zhaohuai paused.
Then he remembered the servants calling him “Young Master.”
Everything Chu Zhaohuai knew about Ji Xun came from those frightening rumors. He had heard that there was a young heir in Prince Jing’s residence, but he had always assumed it was some little child.
Who would have thought the boy was actually about the same age as him?
The young heir swaggered over.
When he saw Chu Zhaohuai’s ridiculous face covered in rouge and powder, he couldn’t resist sneering.
“Young Marquis, long time no see. How have you been?”
Chu Zhaohuai couldn’t figure out what this person intended, so he answered cautiously,
“Very well.”
After greeting him, the young heir suddenly gave an exaggerated gasp.
“Ah! I almost forgot. I can’t call you Young Marquis anymore…”
An old enemy had suddenly married a man and become his wife.
Even if he now carried the title of Princess Consort, for a man, being reduced to such a position was still humiliating.
There wasn’t much glory left in it.
“Yes,” Chu Zhaohuai said.
He hadn’t detected the mockery at all and simply nodded in agreement.
“I married your father. We’ve already performed the wedding rites and drunk the nuptial wine. You should start calling me Father.”
The young heir froze.
He stared at Chu Zhaohuai in disbelief.
“Father?”
“Good boy.”
Chu Zhaohuai was practically a stingy old miser reborn.
He lifted the quilt and rummaged around underneath it before grabbing a handful of dried fruits used for scattering over the wedding bed. He held them out as a greeting gift for the younger generation.
“Don’t complain that it’s too little. Take it. If it’s not enough, come ask Father for more.”
The young heir: “…”