Bu Jingci was not usually one to linger in bed, but he had been terribly busy these past few days, so he had rarely slept in. Seeing the person still sleeping beside him, he swallowed the words he’d been about to say to wake him, didn’t leave, and simply watched.
Asleep, Liu Miqing looked nothing like the tantrum-throwing brat of the night before, he was adorably well-behaved. Perhaps he was having a pleasant dream, for a faint smile lingered at the corner of his lips, and his long lashes trembled slightly with each breath, as delicate as butterfly wings, utterly endearing.
Bu Jingci had seen Liu Miqing’s father as a child and knew that Liu Miqing didn’t resemble him much, presumably he took after his mother, which meant Lady Liu must have been a beauty.
As for whose temperament he’d inherited, who could say and his tolerance for alcohol, too. Grand Tutor Liu had lost his son and daughter-in-law early; as far as Bu Jingci knew, Liu Miqing had been raised by his grandfather. And the Grand Tutor loved his drink, he couldn’t get through a meal without a sip or two yet the grandson couldn’t handle alcohol at all. Rather amusing, really.
In truth, Liu Miqing’s previous body had been frail, so alcohol was something he’d never been allowed to touch. His entire understanding of drinking amounted to roughly “don’t drink too much.” He truly hadn’t imagined that one small ladle of wine could knock him out completely.
As for what had happened last night, his memory was hazy. He only knew he seemed to have caused Bu Jingci quite a bit of trouble. Opening his eyes to find Bu Jingci smiling at him, he shrank back a little, embarrassed. “Morning.” His voice was hoarse he recalled it was from all his shouting last night, which made him even more embarrassed. “Could I have some water?”
“Hold on.” Bu Jingci got up with a smile and went to pour him some water.
Seeing this, Liu Miqing said, “No need to trouble yourself,” and moved to follow, but the moment he stood up, his legs gave out and he sat right back down.
Hearing the commotion, Bu Jingci turned around to see him sitting there miserably on the bed, and couldn’t help laughing. He walked over and handed him the water. “What’s wrong?”
“My legs are weak.” Liu Miqing could have cried. “All that walking and standing yesterday, the whole day”
“Do you usually move this little?” Bu Jingci said with a smile. “Rest for a day and you’ll be fine.”
Liu Miqing nodded. “Sorry for all the trouble.”
“So glib before, how come now that you’re married, you’re suddenly so polite?”
“Well, it’s not like we’re really married.” Liu Miqing sipped his water in small mouthfuls, quiet and docile, as endearing as when he’d been asleep.
Though it was a rejection, Bu Jingci suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of closeness. He reached out and ruffled his hair, saying gently, “Even if it’s only in name, we’re still husband and wife.”
“Oh” Liu Miqing answered, his gaze falling into the empty cup, his thoughts a tangled mess about Bu Jingci’s future.
Become emperor. Become a puppet. Be betrayed. Then die alone.
He was the protagonist’s stepping stone, the story’s most standard cannon fodder. Unlike the original Liu Miqing, he hadn’t even brought it on himself it was simply fate, simply what the plot demanded.
After a long silence, Liu Miqing suddenly asked, “Are you going to become emperor?”