“Your Majesty, the night is deep and the dew is heavy; you absolutely must not stand by the window,” the head eunuch said, draping an outer robe over Ye Weifeng’s shoulders. He felt somewhat uncertain; it was the first time he had seen a trace of desolation on the face of an emperor whose emotions were never externally revealed.
“Under the torrential rain, all the flowers have fallen,” Ye Weifeng spoke up.
“If Your Majesty finds those fallen flowers an eyesore, this servant will immediately send someone to clear them away.”
Ye Weifeng waved his hand. “Let it be. The flowers have simply fallen, never to return to the branches again. Just like many things, once they begin, there is no turning back.”
Although the head eunuch had served Ye Weifeng for many years, he could never fathom the imperial intent. If one were to ask who understood His Majesty best in all of Daqing, who could compare to Prime Minister Xi? It was just…
Just as the head eunuch was lost in his thoughts, Ye Weifeng’s displeased voice reached his ears: “Bring wine. The jars from the courtyard of the Xi family.”
“Is Your Majesty in a bad mood again?” the head eunuch probed cautiously.
Tonight, Ye Weifeng was relatively easy to talk to. “What makes you say that?”
“Your Majesty, whenever you are in a bad mood, you have this servant fetch those jars of wine. It’s just that there don’t seem to be many jars left.”
Ye Weifeng suddenly felt a profound sense of loss. “Not many jars left?”
One had to remember that back in the day, Xi Yu had buried his birthday wine under every single tree in his backyard.
“Lezhi is eighteen today, so I shall bury eighteen jars. I’ll bury one more jar every year, and when Lezhi turns a hundred, he won’t be able to finish them no matter how much he drinks.” The Xi Yu in his memory smiled and teased Ye Weifeng. He was good-looking, and his smile made it impossible to look away.
Ye Weifeng reached out and swatted Xi Yu playfully. “It’s a promise, then. A jar buried every year. If you forget, see how I deal with you.”
“Lezhi is truly so domineering.” The smile in Xi Yu’s eyes seemed to deepen.
But later on, the year Ye Weifeng ascended the throne, Father Xi and Xi Yu’s eldest brother both died for his sake, and Xi Yu never buried another wine jar for him again.
So many jars of wine, yet not many were left now? At this moment, Ye Weifeng felt as though he were those fallen flower petals, clearly not wanting to fall, clearly wanting to stay on the branches forever, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold on…
“Dawn is breaking. There is no need to fetch them.”
Ye Weifeng suddenly couldn’t bear to drink them. After all, there were only a few jars left; drinking one meant one less.
Because Xi Yu would never bury wine for him again.
Xi Yu hadn’t slept well all night. Whether from the cold or from nightmares, he didn’t know, but he sneezed continuously upon waking.
Yet someone seemed to be suffering even more than he was, and that person was Fuying.
Fuying had been beaten again. Taking advantage of his foolishness and afraid of being found out, the palace servants specifically targeted places on Fuying’s body that couldn’t be easily seen.
They weren’t even afraid of Fuying complaining, because no matter how much he was beaten, Fuying never cried. Thus, these palace servants had been abusing him in the Cold Palace for years.
Fuying wouldn’t complain, nor would he seek help or tell anyone else after being beaten. However, Xi Yu noticed it with a single glance.
Because when Xi Yu saw him again, he was frantically scrubbing the clothes Xi Yu had given him. Startled upon seeing Xi Yu, he even forgot to hide the soiled fabric behind his back.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Before Xi Yu could even speak, Fuying was already apologizing out of reflex.
“Sorry for what?” Xi Yu asked him.
“I got your clothes dirty.” Fuying looked deeply saddened and apologetic.
“Why apologize to me? The clothes I gave you are yours now.”
Xi Yu comforted him first, then stepped forward. “Can you tell me who got them dirty?”
From the injuries Fuying had previously, Xi Yu had already guessed that someone in this Cold Palace was abusing him, though he hadn’t yet identified the culprit.
“It was my own carelessness.” Fuying didn’t dare tell the truth. Xi Yu was the kindest person to him since he entered the Cold Palace; he didn’t want him to be bullied by those people just like he was.
Those people were very scary. It was okay if he got beaten, but Xi Yu was so good-looking, he couldn’t let them hit him.
“You’re lying to me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.
When Xi Yu looked at him with cold eyes, Fuying suddenly felt immense pressure, not fear of being harmed by him, but fear that Xi Yu would ignore him. He seemed to harbor a colossal dread of Xi Yu ignoring him.
“I’m sorry, Xi Yu.”
“I don’t want an apology. I want to hear the truth.” Xi Yu looked at him, his tone somewhat stern. “Are you going to lie to me again?”
“It was Little Xiu-zi.” Fuying was a bit nervous.
Xi Yu suddenly smiled. He patted Fuying’s head, becoming as amiable and gentle as before. “Well done. From now on, if anything bad happens, you must tell me, understand?”
Fuying nodded, staring blankly at the dimples that appeared when Xi Yu smiled, feeling as though he wanted to drown in them.
Xi Yu had always favored the approach of giving a slap followed by a piece of candy. His appearance perfectly matched his temperament; incredibly, a single person could blend such contradictory auras so seamlessly.
When Xi Yu wasn’t smiling, despite his handsome features, he gave off an unapproachable chill. Yet when the corners of his mouth tilted up slightly to reveal his dimples, he appeared both endearing and somewhat rakish.
But no matter which version of Xi Yu it was, it was always impossible to look away from him.
Little Xiu-zi swiftly received a warning and a lesson. With just a minor trick, Xi Yu made him encounter the ghost of Fuying’s long-deceased mother, Consort Xian.
“Consort Xian, this servant will never dare do it again! I’ll never dare bully the Ninth Prince again! Your Ladyship is magnanimous, please don’t take me down with you, I don’t want to die!” Little Xiu-zi knelt on the ground, wailing and begging for mercy in agony.
Xi Yu let out a cold sneer, what a cowardly bully, and then reeled in the kite string in his hand. The ancients’ fear of ghosts and superstitions had indeed become a handy tool for him.
Fuying stood blankly beside him. Xi Yu had told him not to speak or make a sound, so he kept his mouth covered the whole time, exceedingly well-behaved.
Yet Xi Yu felt a tinge of melancholy. If the original host hadn’t pushed Fuying into the water back then, what would his fate have been? Would he have been cruelly murdered by Ye Weifeng like his other brothers, or would he have managed to turn the tables using his intelligence and brilliance?
But regardless of what might have happened, at least he would possess the intellect of an ordinary person, and wouldn’t be bullied to such a state by a lowly eunuch.
He patted Fuying’s head. “It’s over. He won’t dare bully you ever again.”
Fuying remained in a daze, though his face was slightly flushed. He looked at Xi Yu with utter adoration, as if his eyes were glued to him.
“Older Brother, you’re so amazing. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, even more amazing than my imperial father.”
Being called “Older Brother” made Xi Yu’s legs go a little weak; he truly couldn’t bear it. Let Ye Weifeng hear that instead.
Meanwhile, Ye Weifeng was sneezing incessantly over his memorials. Perhaps it was because he caught a chill while staring at the fallen flowers and mourning the passing of spring that early morning.
Yet being sick wasn’t the most unbearable thing for Ye Weifeng; what was truly unbearable were the memorials piled on his desk.
The generals of the Qiu Kingdom sent him missives one after another, stating that if he was no longer willing to entrust Xi Yu with important duties, he should grant Xi Yu his freedom, as the Qiu Kingdom would welcome him with open arms.
They even added that they would visit Daqing shortly to personally escort Xi Yu back to the Qiu Kingdom.
Furious, Ye Weifeng hurled all the memorials on his desk to the floor. Even if he wanted to take Xi Yu away, Xi Yu might not necessarily be willing to go!
After all, this was Xi Yu’s home, Xi Yu’s homeland. A vast portion of his life had been spent in Daqing, and moreover, there was him, Xi Yu wouldn’t leave.
He summoned his imperial guard, Shangguan Yuansi: “Is there any movement from Xi Yu in the Cold Palace? His subordinates, especially that Ji Qingzhou, have always been restless. You’ve been keeping an eye on Xi Yu recently, have you seen them contacting each other or plotting anything?”
Shangguan Yuansi cupped his hands. “Reporting to Your Majesty: No. Prime Minister Xi has not contacted anyone.”
His eyes cast downward. Those familiar with him would know this was an involuntary little habit of his when lying. However, as the esteemed Son of Heaven, why would Ye Weifeng pay attention to a subject’s micro-expressions?
After Shangguan Yuansi exited the grand hall, he himself couldn’t figure out why he had lied for Xi Yu.
The Emperor had assigned him to monitor him; thus, reporting everything about him to the Emperor was his sworn duty. Why on earth was he hiding things from the Emperor?
It was just that…
That person, the one he once envied most, the one he most wanted to surpass, the target he viewed as an obstacle and doggedly sought to defeat, was now reduced to such a state.
It wasn’t Xi Yu’s fault. He had done so much for the Daqing Dynasty; Shangguan Yuansi had seen all of it with his own eyes.
Shangguan Yuansi couldn’t help but begin to doubt the teachings he had always received.
The ruler is the guiding principle for the subject; as long as it is the Son of Heaven, whatever he does is right, and the duty of a subject is to execute the Son of Heaven’s every command.
Yet at this moment, he suddenly felt somewhat uncertain.
Shangguan Yuansi involuntarily found himself back at the Cold Palace. As he watched Xi Yu teaching the legendary Ninth Prince how to play chess, a very peculiar feeling suddenly swept over his heart.
Yes, Xi Yu had always been exceptionally proficient in the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Naturally, as the most outstanding young man in all of Daqing, his chess skills were superb.
Hadn’t he himself learned to play chess precisely to one day challenge Xi Yu to a match and thereby surpass him?
Not just chess, but also horseback riding and archery, which of these hadn’t he practiced as if his life depended on it, just to do it better than him?
After all, from a young age, his father had constantly praised the youngest son of the Xi family in his ears, comparing him to the other at every turn and always using Xi Yu to mock him. The seed of jealous resentment had sprouted in Shangguan Yuansi’s heart long ago in his childhood.
He had to do better than him, of course. Now that the other was a discarded pawn while he was the Emperor’s favored attendant, shouldn’t he be happy?
Yet Shangguan Yuansi suddenly realized he didn’t feel an ounce of joy. Watching the scene of Xi Yu teaching Fuying chess, he only felt a profound ache in his heart.
A deeply familiar emotion surged up within Shangguan Yuansi, almost swallowing his throat, a heavy, salty-bitter taste.
It was the familiar emotion called jealousy. That’s right, he was jealous. At this moment, Shangguan Yuansi finally admitted it: he was very jealous.
Only, he wasn’t jealous of Xi Yu, but of Fuying.
His chess skills were being taught personally by Xi Yu.