At the Nanning Prince’s residence, a man in a dark robe moved briskly through the corridors, his expression somber. At his side, a physician carrying a medical kit hurried along, speaking anxiously, trying to convey something to him.
They stopped in front of a door. The physician let out a heavy sigh and stepped aside.
From inside the room came intermittent coughing, harsh and raw, as if the sound itself were cracking. Even through the door, it carried clearly.
The man sneered, pushing the door open with force. His dark eyes roiled, and his voice was cold: “If I had known bringing you back would be like this, I shouldn’t have bothered at all.”
“You’ve never truly belonged to the Xie family anyway, and perhaps that’s just as well.” He stepped closer, looking at the figure curled up at the foot of the bed, words laced with mockery. “Isn’t that right… Xie Chongyu?”
Xie Chongyu seemed not to hear him, keeping his head lowered.
The man’s lips twisted into a bitter smile as he stepped forward, grasping Xie Chongyu’s collar to force him to meet his gaze.
“Xie Chongyu, after so many years in the Left Prime Minister’s residence, have you forgotten who you are?”
Xie Chongyu raised his head slightly, his face pale to the point of alarm, and yet a faint smile played on his lips. “Forget? I wish I could.”
“If I could forget, I wouldn’t be here right now,” the man said, unflinching, meeting his eyes. “What more do you want from me, brother…”
Xie Changling’s chest tightened at the sight of Xie Chongyu’s gaunt, exhausted form after only a few days. The harsh words he had prepared could not find their way out.
As his grip loosened, Xie Chongyu leaned weakly against the bed’s edge, covering his mouth as coughs wracked his body.
“The medicine we brought you… and yet you won’t take it. You truly—” Xie Changling’s voice faltered, disappointment clear in his eyes.
He could not voice the question burning inside him: Do you truly not wish to live?
“Master, it’s not that he refuses the medicine… it’s that he just can’t—” A weak voice spoke from the corner. A young, lean, nimble boy in black spoke quietly.
Xie Changling’s gaze fell. Seeing the brown stains on Xie Chongyu’s collar from the medicine, he said nothing.
“The doctor just prepared it. He took it for a while, but soon he vomited it all. Several times. Truly… he cannot manage it. That’s why I was sent to inform you,” the boy continued, eyes reddening.
“Enough,” Xie Changling interrupted, looking straight at Xie Chongyu. Yet a smile formed on his lips. “Xie Chongyu, you hate me, don’t you?”
There was no doubt. His voice carried certainty. “But I want to know… do you hate me for preventing you from returning to the capital, or for shattering your dream?”
Xie Chongyu leaned back, hands covering his face, giving no response.
“Do you remember the first day we met?” Xie Changling’s tone shifted.
“I remember,” came the rasped, hoarse voice, long enough that he had thought there would be no answer. “Zhaoyuan, year nineteen…”
“Year nineteen of Zhaoyuan. Prince Xie Ji of Nanning… committed suicide at the gates of the capital, never able to step beyond its walls,” Xie Changling said, eyes lowering as he smiled softly. “Father was fastidious, changing his clothes daily, yet when I saw him, he was covered in blood, collapsed in the mud—”
“Don’t say it…” The figure on the bed shook his head.
“I endured humiliation and anger, because I wanted one day to bring your father and you back to Nanning,” Xie Changling continued, turning his head slightly, tone calm yet deliberate.
“That day, I had meant to tell him to wait, just a little longer. Wait until my wings were full, until Jun Jing could no longer threaten us.”
“Chongyu, you were thirteen, and it was the first time the two of us met.” He half-kneeling in front of Xie Chongyu, smiled faintly. “You, red-eyed, told me you wanted to go home.”
“But, Chongyu, after that day of your father’s death, we had no home.”
“Brother… don’t say it…” Xie Chongyu covered his mouth, unable to bear it, coughing violently.
“I could do nothing at that time. Couldn’t stop him from seeking death, couldn’t bring you away,” Xie Changling’s voice was hoarse, yet his expression calm. “Now I finally have the power to demand the blood debt from the Jun family, yet you hate me for it.”
“I’m sorry,” Xie Chongyu’s eyes were bloodshot. “I’m sorry…”
Xie Changling paid him no mind, standing and looking away. Calmly, he turned to leave the room.
The young boy glanced between the gray-faced Xie Chongyu on the bed and the figure departing, unsure how to react.
Xie Chongyu stayed still for a long while. Slowly, a faint smile formed, but the boy saw tears at the corners of his eyes.
He quietly called out, “Xiao Jiu.”
The boy snapped back to attention, stepping forward to crouch by the bed. “Master, do you want water?”
“Bring the medicine,” Xie Chongyu said, propping himself up against the headboard, eyes fixed on a distant point. “I’ll drink.”
As Xiao Jiu went to fetch it, Xie Chongyu gazed listlessly out the window. The sky was clear, unlike the often gray capital. If it snowed in winter, sunlight was rare.
She used to love curling up inside, sleeping late, forgetting breakfast, and he would buy freshly baked chestnut cakes, timed so she could eat them just upon waking.
She had always seemed like a playful, gluttonous little fox before him, and he had always been there, cup in hand, ready to accompany her.
He had thought those days would last forever, willing to buy chestnut cakes for a lifetime, always by her side with tea.
Now he understood how fleeting that time had truly been.
Xie Changling’s sudden actions had caught him off guard. When he was intercepted by Xiao Jiu on the road back to the Left Prime Minister’s residence, he had sensed something amiss, only fully realizing it when shown Xie Changling’s letter at an abandoned estate.
Xie Changling had never allowed him to return to Nanning freely.
After Jun Jing’s death, his eyes’ watchers had disappeared. He had opportunities to leave, but to do so would openly defy the imperial edict. That decree was both his shackle and the last thread connecting Nanning and the capital.
Over the years, Xie Changling had occasionally come to the capital in secret, discussing escape plans—faked death or disappearance—but he always refused. Every time he looked into Xie Changling’s knowing gaze, he felt a mixture of disdain and helplessness.
He had never expected Xie Changling to be so absolute, using the crime of treason to force him to leave.
Even now, he could not bear to recall that night when Xie Changling had decisively closed the door in front of him, leaving him no hope of a miracle.
How he had left the capital and returned to Nanning, Xie Chongyu could no longer recall clearly.
He only remembered the snow melting in his eyes that day, cold to the bone.
So cold.
The only one who could warm him would not even look his way again.
When he saw Xie Changling again, he was even more silent, his eyes darker with resentment.
Xie Chongyu vaguely knew something had happened but was too weak to investigate further.
Until one day, he overheard the guards discussing her residence in the capital…
His mind went blank. The only thought remaining: he must return to the capital.
Even if he were treated as a traitor and shot with a volley of arrows, he must go back.
But… Xie Changling intercepted him, coldly smiling, saying, “Blood debts must be settled; the dead cannot rest. If you turn back, you will no longer be of the Xie family.”
Xie Chongyu buried his face in his sleeve, shoulders trembling, realizing clearly that the distance between him and her was far more than that between Nanning and the capital.
Yet, Jiaojiao… he choked on the thought. They had almost… almost married.
Outside the door, Xiao Jiu held the medicine, pausing at the sight of a figure in the shadow.
“Master?”
“Bring it in.” Xie Changling did not look back, his voice indifferent.
Xiao Jiu nodded and proceeded toward Xie Chongyu’s room, unsettled. Xie Chongyu could still cry, but Xie Changling—he had borne years of suffering with no one to confide in.
When Xie Chongyu had heard news of Gu Jiao’s palace, he had impulsively ridden off, and only Xiao Jiu had come in time to notify Xie Changling. Then Xie Changling had pursued him, using extreme skill to catch the horse at the edge of Nanning, despite being injured and exhausted.
He had shouted urgently, “What good will it do to go back? The past is done. You cannot change it.”
The grip on his hands suddenly weakened, the surrounding silence absolute.
He ducked his head, bracing for Xie Chongyu’s wrath, but nothing came. He dared to peek, seeing Xie Chongyu staring straight at their intertwined hands.
Following his gaze, he saw the deep bloodstains left by the reins. Shocked, he tried to pry Xie Chongyu’s hand free.
Xie Chongyu released the reins himself, opening his hand to reveal the blurred blood marks.
“Master…” He could not find the words, only worry, as Xie Chongyu’s pale figure trembled atop the horse.
Xie Changling arrived just then, lifted a hand, and struck him on the back of the neck. Xie Chongyu collapsed silently, still conscious but unable to resist.
On the way back, Xie Changling said nothing, ordering someone to treat Xie Chongyu before leaving.
At that moment, it seemed Xie Changling didn’t care for his brother. Yet, when he looked up, he could see the normally stoic master leaning on a pillar, exhausted, brows drawn.
In truth… who had it easier?