Stepping closer, Chu Xunsheng finally saw the gruesome and horrifying scene unfolding before him.
The Emperor, who had always been impeccably dressed, now lay dying and battered on the floor. His blood had clotted into hard, dark-brown crusts that blended into his dark robes, pressing tightly against his wounds, with some fabric even stuck deep inside the torn flesh. Bone fragments were visible around his kneecaps, while his shinbones had collapsed into a soft, misshapen angle.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, Chu Xunsheng asked the system, “Can his legs still heal?”
Upon receiving a negative answer, he scooped the faintly shivering figure up in his arms, carrying him with a touch of gentleness to the bed inside.
Fresh blood dripped down as he walked, staining Chu Xunsheng’s turquoise robes.
In his delirium, Ji Yan felt someone gently stroke his forehead, brushing away the sweat-dampened strands of hair. The pain had reached such an extreme that he could no longer feel it; being treated with such tenderness felt as though he were wrapped in a warm, comforting blanket.
With his last remaining ounce of strength, he tugged at the person’s hair ribbon, clutching it tightly in his fist.
He wanted to hold onto this fleeting warmth, to prove that this comforting touch wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.
Sighing softly, Chu Xunsheng gently pried open those fingers one by one, retrieved the ribbon, and dropped it onto the floor.
Remember these pains and hatreds, Your Majesty. Do not harbor too much hope.
Ji Yan’s eyes remained tightly shut, his eyelashes trembling from the pain as a glint of moisture seemed to slip past.
The proud and self-contained Emperor would never cry; it was likely just sweat dripping into the corner of his eye, which Chu Xunsheng carefully wiped away.
Murmuring something in his agonizing sleep, the Emperor whispered, and Chu Xunsheng leaned down to listen closer.
Without warning, a blood-stained pair of lips pressed against his in a kiss. A hand stained with gore seized Chu Xunsheng’s collar, biting and gnawing at him with a desperate, hateful intensity, determined to claim every inch of his mouth, much like a lion fiercely marking its territory.
This was a desperate, bloody final kiss, delivered with the force of burning one’s boats behind them.
Outside, the heaven-shaking uproar erupted once more: shouting, fighting, the clashing of weapons, and the frantic voices of guards rushing into the inner hall to urge Chu Xunsheng to flee immediately.
The Emperor’s reinforcements had arrived with astonishing speed. Everyone finally witnessed the true military prowess of an Emperor who, shortly after ascending the throne, had ruthlessly subjugated the court. Ji Jing’s forces were pushed back step by step, leaving him with no choice but to grit his teeth and prepare to escape on horseback.
After all, where there is life, there is hope.
Horses neighed wildly outside, and Ji Jing’s loud calls echoed into the hall.
Yet on the bed, Ji Yan clutched Chu Xunsheng’s lapels with a death grip, kissing him with a consuming, desperate intensity, acting as if the two of them were the only souls left in the vast world.
While Ji Yan exhausted every last ounce of his strength to arch his neck and ravage the thin lips before him, the other man’s hand rested naturally at his waist without pushing him away. Even though Ji Yan’s current strength was pitifully weak, requiring only a slight push from Chu Xunsheng to be shoved aside,
The man merely lowered his gaze, his expression unreadable in the dim room.
Not until Ji Yan exhausted himself and collapsed weakly back against the mattress did Chu Xunsheng withdraw his hand.
Slowly standing up, he brushed off his robes without a trace of lingering attachment or guilt. “Let’s go.”
No, do not leave me.
I forbid it!
The Emperor, as if trapped in a nightmare, reached out to grab a fold of that retreating robe, only for those fingers to be pried open one by one and cast aside.
The hall doors slammed shut with a heavy thud, leaving a single, lonely figure isolated in the center of the grand, empty bed.
Cast aside, am I?
A chilling draft crept in through the cracks of the window, making him shiver involuntarily. Slowly closing his eyes, scenes flashed before him like a spinning lantern.
At the fading edge of the lanterns, that person had turned back with a lamp in hand, the firelight gently caressed his brow and eyes, capable of throwing a heart into utter disarray with just a single glance.
“Your Majesty! Quickly summon the imperial physicians!”
The chaotic noise surged back in. Figures in motion rushed back and forth; the heavy stench of blood and the bitter fragrance of medicinal ointment finally masked all traces left behind by that person. Ji Yan slowly opened his eyes.
“Your Majesty! You’re finally awake!”
His personal guard cried out in trembling relief.
Ji Yan spoke, his voice sounding like sandpaper scraped across stone, hoarse and parched: “Where are the rebels?”
“Reporting to Your Majesty, two of the rebel leaders are still at large, but the general has secured control of the palace. Please rest and recuperate for now, Your Majesty.”
Ji Yan attempted to move his legs, but they felt entirely numb and unresponsive.
A disabled Emperor.
Heh.
His wounds had been bandaged and the bleeding stemmed, but his shins dangled limply like useless tails, dragging on the ground with horrifying ugliness.
The guard lowered his head, not daring to meet the Emperor’s gaze at that moment.
With trembling hands, the imperial physicians brought forward a wheelchair.
There was only one horse. Chu Xunsheng swung himself up to mount behind Ji Jing.
Out of Chu Xunsheng’s line of sight, Ji Jing clenched his fists tightly, his fingernails digging deep into his palms.
No matter how unwilling he was to admit it, he had to acknowledge Ji Yan’s formidable capabilities as a decisive and ruthless ruler. He had never expected that Ji Yan would have already caught wind of the capital’s unrest and quietly stationed garrison troops in the outskirts, information his own intelligence network had completely failed to intercept. Nor had he anticipated the garrison forces arriving with such terrifying speed, leaving him zero time to react.
Fortunately, his movements had been fast enough to cripple both of Ji Yan’s legs at the very least.
And besides…
As he rode at a gallop, Ji Jing cast cautious glances back at Chu Xunsheng’s expression.
He wasn’t left with nothing. He still had his uncle.
The palace walls blurred past at dizzying speed. Ji Jing asked in a low voice, “Is Uncle blaming Xiao Jing?”
Chu Xunsheng remained silent, simply reaching out to stroke his head just as he used to do.
What was there to blame him for? he thought.
For being too ruthless? No, history is written by the victors. Without a ruthless streak, how could one become an emperor? Merely breaking an enemy’s legs without even taking their life, could that even be considered ruthless?
A disability was undoubtedly a massive setback on the road to kingship. Yet Chu Xunsheng knew well that those who were truly ruthless to themselves, those with unyielding inner strength—the ones called protagonists—would live stubbornly through this humiliation, clawing their way back up even from the deepest mire.
Ah, protagonists…
Besides, what qualification or reason did he have to blame him? As a cannon fodder character on the villain’s side, he was the one who had chosen to support his own flesh-and-blood nephew; why go back on his word now? From start to finish, he had only ever utilized the Emperor, so where could there be talk of genuine emotion or standing up for justice?
Chu Xunsheng offered no reply, remaining silent for a brief moment.
Seeing that Chu Xunsheng did not respond, Ji Jing wisely dropped the subject, though a lingering sense of unease churned in his heart.
?
A single horse’s saddle was not spacious; two adult men sharing a single mount was undeniably cramped. Ji Jing could distinctly feel the body heat radiating through the layers of fabric where his back pressed tightly against the other man’s chest.
And the arms loosely encircling his waist, accompanied by the warm breath puffing against the exposed skin of his neck, sending a ripple of shivers down his spine.
Pushing aside other thoughts, he drank in this fleeting intimacy with near-greediness.
Let it be. Let time stop at this very moment. Even if we lose, as long as it’s with Uncle, it’s worth it after all.
Only at times like this could he draw so terribly close to his uncle, so close that Ji Jing felt himself forgetting how to breathe.
And he dared not even imagine what kind of raging fury would consume his uncle—this pure, mountain-breeze-like uncle—if he ever discovered the secret, sinful, and heaven-defying filth hidden deep within his heart.
If that day ever came, Uncle, would you still stand resolutely behind Xiao Jing?
The rhythmic clatter of hooves beat against the ground. The city gates loomed directly ahead, a flash of thrilling light sparking in the depths of Ji Jing’s eyes.
“Halt! Who goes there?!”
The gate guard bellowed. Word of the palace upheaval had yet to reach the gates, but the guards could easily infer something major was amiss from the commotion and sounds of battle echoing from the imperial city.
Ji Jing’s pupils constricted slightly, and he tried his best to avoid eye contact with the guards. Both of them knew full well that if a rebellion had broken out in the palace, Ji Jing, as royal blood, would never be allowed to pass through the gates easily.
Before Ji Jing could react, a broad cloak enveloped him.
One of Chu Xunsheng’s hands firmly pressed his nephew’s face into his chest, while his other hand casually and flirtatiously slipped inside the young man’s robes.
Ji Jing’s body gave a violent jolt, stiffening into a block of wood.
“What is the meaning of this?” Chu Xunsheng said coldly. “I am bringing my person out of the city for some amusement. Must I secure your permission as well?”
Though the guards were standing at a distance, they could clearly make out Chu Xunsheng’s feigned irritation and cold expression in the moonlight. A chill ran down the guard’s spine. Lord Chu was a figure not to be trifled with; plenty of high-ranking court officials, and even the exalted Emperor himself, held him in high regard.
It just hadn’t occurred to them that while Lord Chu always maintained a calm and self-contained demeanor publicly, behind closed doors, he was quite the player.
The specific turmoil inside the city remained unconfirmed, but offending Lord Chu unprovoked would guarantee a world of trouble.
“Of course not, of course not—” The guard only cast a brief, rough glance at the figure huddled in Chu Xunsheng’s embrace, catching sight of someone slumped against Lord Chu’s chest with glimpses of jade-like skin exposed by the movement, and hastily averted his eyes.
“Open the gates—!”
Amidst the shout, Chu Xunsheng maintained an aura of absolute calm and composure, slowly swaying his horse out through the open city gates.
Once safely past the gates, Chu Xunsheng let out a slow breath of relief, quickly withdrawing his hand from Ji Jing’s robes. Perhaps due to a stray draft during the movement, Ji Jing visibly shuddered.
“An expedient measure…”
“It’s quite alright, Uncle!” Ji Jing’s voice sounded exceptionally flustered. “Xiao Jing understands completely.”
With eyes deep and burning, and his back turned to Chu Xunsheng, his face flushed an intense crimson, save for the corners of his lips which curled upward in secret, triumphant joy.
However, no sooner had their horse stepped a short distance past the city gates than an authoritative roar rang out from behind.
“Rebels! Halt your horses immediately!”
Looking back, Chu Xunsheng saw a sharp arrow already notched and aimed straight at them, gleaming with a cold, lethal reflection.
Though the ramparts were swarming with soldiers, the surrounding area was eerily silent, quiet enough to catch the whistling of the wind sweeping across the grass and kicking up dust.
And the sound of the bowstring being drawn tauter still in the air.
Trailing right behind the archer, standing dead center atop the ramparts, was the Emperor in his golden mask, seated in a wheelchair while propping up a large longbow with his own hands.
……
?
The imperial party had traveled rapidly via a covert route straight to the city gates.
Unable to make out the Emperor’s expression from this distance, Chu Xunsheng turned back to see only the cold shimmer bouncing off that golden mask.
He shifted slightly, using his own torso to shield Ji Jing’s body.
Chu Xunsheng knew he wouldn’t shoot.
After a long, agonizing pause, the Emperor on the ramparts slowly lowered his bow and arrow.
Unsure of what emotions churned within the Emperor at that moment, Chu Xunsheng could only offer a silent apology in his heart, yanked on the reins, and galloped away into the distance.
Yet, unaware of the Emperor’s inner state, the chief eunuch standing near the ramparts understood it all too well:
The eyes blazing with agony beneath that golden mask seemed steeped in arsenic venom, vicious and chilling enough to curdle the blood.
The Emperor’s voice carried the terrifying pressure of an impending storm, grinding out every single syllable: “Ah-Chu, Ah-Chu…”
The chief eunuch listened in trembling terror, only to catch a haunting undertone of clinging attachment and heartbreaking dependence at the very end.
It was far from mere hope or affection; it was a lethal concoction laced with freezing malice and biting hatred.
That Lord Chu was likely in for a truly wretched fate.