Qin Duan chose to give up thinking about this question in his heart. In any case, neither he nor Xie Zhengming would have a good end. He had a best option, which was to leave Xie Zhengming now, travel far away to another land, change his name, and finish out his remaining life.
He did not feel that doing so would betray the heavens’ grace of granting him a rebirth, because he had never desired a rebirth at all.
The human world was too full of bitterness; he did not wish to come back.
He would rather turn into a wisp of cloud or a thread of wind after death, or perhaps become nothing at all, it did not matter, for there was nothing in this world worth lingering over.
Xie Zhengming did not know that the person before him was already a piece of dead wood whose heart had stopped beating. He believed that as long as he was sincere and persistent enough, one day Qin Duan would be moved, even if he were made of stone.
Qin Duan sighed silently; he knew how stubborn Xie Zhengming was. Given the outcome they shared in their past life, it was only natural that Xie Zhengming would refuse to give up now. Never mind, since the Emperor had sought him out, it was a matter that would only occur after Xie Zhengming had been bestowed a marriage; surely Xie Zhengming wouldn’t guard him forever, and he would always have a chance to leave.
Yet Xie Zhengming’s persistence exceeded his imagination. Two months had passed, and Xie Zhengming had actually surrendered all his military power and remained idle at home, solely to guard him personally. This left Qin Duan unable to keep his composure, no matter how steady he tried to be.
Qin Duan was troubled day and night, unable to swallow his food, yet Xie Zhengming would rack his brains to ensure he ate a little more. Thus, over the course of two months, nurtured by all manner of broths, Qin Duan had actually grown a bit plumper than before. Xie Zhengming, on the other hand, had become much thinner.
In his heart, Xie Zhengming knew clearly that Qin Duan’s willingness to stay wasn’t because he had accepted him again, but simply because Qin Duan was using softness to overcome his hardness. Qin Duan understood his temperament too well; he knew that if he were too aggressive, Xie Zhengming would become crazed and reckless.
Qin Duan’s heart had never compromised.
At night, Xie Zhengming would quietly enter the West Courtyard where Qin Duan lived, gazing at Qin Duan’s sleeping face while feeling profoundly defeated.
Qin Duan slept on his side, curling into a ball within the quilt. Even though spring was now in full bloom, Qin Duan still enjoyed sleeping under a thick blanket, holding half of it in his arms as he drifted off. It was a posture that sought a sense of security.
Xie Zhengming thought back to how Qin Duan once loved to sleep curled up in his arms. But later on, he had given his embrace to so many others and never held Qin Duan as he once had, and Qin Duan would never again, after intimacy, shyly nestle into his embrace. They had become like guests respecting one another, drifting further and further apart.
Qin Duan’s heart had cooled bit by bit; it was he who had shattered his heart piece by piece. Now, having experienced life and death and living a second lifetime, it was no easy task to warm that heart which he had wounded until it turned to ice.
The Summer Solstice was approaching, and spring had burned to its end. Xie Zhengming and Qin Duan were riding their horses, walking slowly along the embankment where the shade was as dense as a curtain by Yang Lake.
It had taken every ounce of his persuasion to get Qin Duan to agree to go on a spring outing. For the past two months, Qin Duan had remained cooped up in the Prince’s estate, reading books all day long, treating the world around him as if it did not exist. Even when he poured his heart out, Qin Duan showed no reaction. He truly feared that if Qin Duan continued like this, his health would suffer.
Qin Duan was equally heavy-hearted. Princess Isha had returned home with the King of Sulai, but the Sulai envoys who remained in Daxing had informed Princess Isha that the marriage arrangement between him and Xie Zhengming had been canceled. Yesterday, he had actually received a gift delivered to him by the Sulai envoy on behalf of Princess Isha.
At the time, Xie Zhengming had scrutinized it with suspicion, but seeing it was merely an agate paperweight, he had little to say, though he handed it to Qin Duan with a sullen look. The envoy had repeatedly conveyed Princess Isha’s message, hoping he would use it when practicing calligraphy or painting, and not let her feelings go unrequited.
Qin Duan had placed the paperweight in his study in the West Courtyard. One evening, however, this crystal-clear agate paperweight, illuminated by the candlelight, reflected rows of tiny characters onto the white paper:
“If you have the intention, come to Sulai to meet. The envoy can assist.”
At the time, Qin Duan put the paperweight away to avoid any groundless suspicion from Xie Zhengming. Yet, the thought had taken root in his heart.
If he truly went to the Sulai royal family, Emperor Jian’an would no longer be able to threaten him. But if that happened, he and Xie Zhengming would truly have no connection in this life.
However, over the past two months, Xie Zhengming had been so relentlessly persistent that he found it impossible to escape the Prince’s estate. Now, less than half a year remained before the time the Emperor had bestowed a marriage between Xie Zhengming and Princess Yan Ning in his previous life. Recently, the palace had frequently sent people to the estate to “inquire,” supposedly to check on Xie Zhengming, but the focus of every conversation seemed to be him.
Qin Duan was worried. In this lifetime, many things were already different from the past: in the previous life, he hadn’t visited the temple fair with Xie Zhengming, hadn’t persuaded him to memorialize the Emperor to dispatch envoys, and they certainly hadn’t set a wedding date… He did not know if the Emperor would bestow the marriage upon Xie Zhengming just as in the previous life, or if he would move against him even sooner.
He had long since realized in his previous life that Princess Yan Ning was merely a tool for Emperor Jian’an to sow discord between him and Xie Zhengming. It just so happened that Princess Yan Ning truly loved Xie Zhengming and viewed him with the same hatred as a thorn in her side.
Living once more, Qin Duan did not wish to endure the torture of his past life again. Perhaps heading to Sulai was currently his best choice.
Seeing Qin Duan remaining silent, Xie Zhengming sighed and said:
“Duan’er, I must enter the palace tomorrow. The Emperor is hosting a banquet for the Dragon Boat Festival, and there is no avoiding the drinking. I, when I return, I want to drink the hangover soup you make.”
The pleading in Xie Zhengming’s words was evident. Seeing such a humble and cautious Xie Zhengming caused Qin Duan’s eyes to sting, and his heart to ache in sympathy.
He did not answer; he neither agreed nor refused. Xie Zhengming felt a pang of disappointment but forced a smile, pointing to the mandarin ducks in the water in the distance, and said:
“Duan’er, look, spring has arrived, and the mandarin ducks are in pairs, too.”
Qin Duan looked at the mandarin ducks playing together in the water, but suddenly, lacking any interest, he turned his horse’s head and said softly:
“It is said: ‘If we could be the mandarin ducks of the pond, I would not envy the gods.’ Heh… yet who knows, when we meet next year, it may not be the same pair.”
Mandarin ducks were not birds of steadfast devotion; coming together for affection was merely for the sake of bearing offspring. As for himself, being a man, he could not even bear children for Xie Zhengming, it was no surprise that he would be discarded like an old shoe.
Inside the imperial palace, the young Emperor was physically and mentally exhausted. Zi Ying’s health was deteriorating for reasons unknown; no matter how many restorative prescriptions the imperial physicians administered, none were effective. Even the Head of the Imperial Medical Academy, after checking Zi Ying’s pulse, could only say that Zi Ying’s pulse was strange, yet he could provide no diagnosis.
In the palace, the attendants even rumored that Grand Eunuch Zi Ying was dying. When these words reached the Emperor’s ears, it was like a thunderclap, and he immediately issued a decree to investigate the source of the rumors. Yet, in the end, the investigation led to the Imperial Medical Academy itself.
Though the physician was punished, it did little to ease the gnawing fear in the Emperor’s heart. How he wished that these words were merely the idle gossip of some ignorant attendant, but unfortunately, they had come from the imperial physician.