The familiar face suddenly loomed larger. The momentary loss of physical balance and the abrupt interrogation made Fu Liao feel as though his heart had skipped a beat.
Then came the hurried, ragged breathing born of an instinctual desire to survive, welling up before his mind could even process the situation.
Plunged into an icy abyss, Fu Liao had thought himself beyond salvation, only for Xi Lingjian’s words to tumble out as an unexpected request for guidance.
The oppressive aura pinning him down suddenly dissipated.
The terror vanished right along with it, while the warmth of the arm wrapping around his waist and the solid chest seemed ready to thaw his chilled hands and feet.
Glancing sideways slightly, Fu Liao caught sight of Xi Lingjian’s high bridge of nose and furrowed brow, tinged with a faint trace of displeasure.
Though the man was serious, Fu Liao felt he wasn’t quite as terrifying as the rumors made him out to be.
Instead, he looked rather like… someone whose demands weren’t being met and who was harboring a grievance?
A smile slipped out unbidden.
True enough, a person like Xi Lingjian had likely never experienced such friendly, warm affection in his life.
He didn’t even know what such an intimate gesture was supposed to represent.
The slightly cool tip of a nose brushed against his cheek, tickling the spot and making him acutely aware of the textural differences between their skin, as well as the faint warmth and softness generated by the friction.
Unable to help himself, Fu Liao closed the eye that had been brushed against, leaving his drooping eyelid fully exposed to Xi Lingjian’s view.
Along with the gentle smile curving the corners of his lips.
“Naturally, he does not like it.”
With his head tilted slightly, the long, cascading strands of hair folded softly against the crook of Xi Lingjian’s shoulder, bouncing back like a polite return visit to lightly tease the edge of Xi Lingjian’s jawline.
It tickled.
Prompting Xi Lingjian’s arm to tighten its hold by a fraction.
Noticing the pressure, Fu Liao could not help a quiet chuckle.
“Ji Liandu has never cared for empty flattery, and trying to win favor with those high-ranking officials was already a helpless compromise for him,” Fu Liao said. “Your Highness’s actions are far too intimate; they will be misconstrued as improper hints, and naturally, Ji Liandu will lump Your Highness together with those people.”
As he spoke, he gently placed both hands over his arms without any forceful intent to push him away.
Xi Lingjian narrowed his eyes. “Can those people be mentioned in the same breath as me?”
A smile touched Fu Liao’s lips, as though he were dealing with a slightly aggrieved child.
“Of course not,” he replied. “Which is all the more reason to help Ji Liandu see things clearly.”
“Furthermore, using that much force will only make him feel that Your Highness is far too overbearing,” Fu Liao continued. “When Ji Liandu returns to the manor next, he will undoubtedly harbor resentment toward Your Highness. If Your Highness wishes to avoid excessive antagonism from him, you must mind your expression as well.”
Under normal circumstances, Ji Liandu would throw a furious tantrum at this point, and Xi Lingjian would respond with a cold scoff.
The underlying meaning would essentially be: Look, I am the only one who can protect you, so don’t even think about running away anywhere else.
Naturally, Ji Liandu would take that as mockery of his own uselessness, sparking a fierce urge to rebel.
Xi Lingjian cast a sideways glance at the hands resting against his arms.
Cool to the touch, like blocks of ice used to cool the air in midsummer. A single brush already felt pleasant, and if one grew accustomed to the touch, yearning for it day and night would surely follow.
To make them last, one couldn’t simply smother them in a tight grip.
After all, they were terribly fragile, liable to vanish entirely at any moment.
Xi Lingjian’s long eyelashes fluttered slightly.
“Your Highness must not treat others in this manner either, or it will cause Ji Liandu to misunderstand.”
Fu Liao spoke with utmost solemnity, as though afraid Xi Lingjian might forget the advice. “Such actions should be reserved solely for the one who holds your heart.”
Xi Lingjian let out a slow exhale.
The moment Ji Liandu entered the conversation, the man seemed to lose all fear completely.
Turning an otherwise tense and hostile confrontation into a lecture like this made it impossible to salvage the atmosphere.
Fu Liao felt the strength in Xi Lingjian’s arms gradually slacken.
“May I step down now?” he asked. “Your Highness’s leg is still injured. What would happen if it worsened?”
Fu Liao’s thoughts drifted back to the actinidia fruit he had failed to deliver that day.
Xi Lingjian was equally inept at accepting human kindness, perpetually on guard against ulterior motives in everyone around him.
For it to simply vanish like that was rather a shame.
Lowering his gaze slightly, his eyes happened to land right beneath Xi Lingjian’s line of sight.
“It might actually be better if it stayed injured,” Xi Lingjian remarked.
Fu Liao paused, instantly recalling the man’s excuse to delay his military campaign—the injury on his leg.
As long as it remained unhealed, he had a valid pretext to stall.
“Since Your Highness wishes to avoid going, why not simply have the court dispatch an imperial envoy instead?” Fu Liao asked.
Since the Emperor demanded the pacification of Shangmu State, a peaceful assimilation was certainly an option.
Besides, the division of Northern Chu had stemmed from the Old Party heavily oppressing the New Party, but now the New Party held absolute supremacy. As long as terms were properly negotiated, the possibility of a peaceful surrender wasn’t zero.
Hearing this, Xi Lingjian offered a cold scoff.
“They were sent, only to be eaten by mountain tigers, waylaid and slaughtered by highway bandits, or drowned in rivers. If the Heir Apparent wishes to go, you may pick one.”
Fu Liao fell silent for a long moment.
“Though I know Your Highness has matters well in hand…” His brow furrowed slightly before smoothing out again. “Still, Your Highness must take better care of your own health.”
Unlike himself, who felt breathless after walking a couple of steps and had felt his heart and lungs practically heave upward from the bouncing in the saddle that day.
Still, the underlying sensation hadn’t been bad at all—merely too tense, followed quickly by the rain which prevented him from properly processing the experience.
Unconsciously, Fu Liao pressed a hand against his chest, clutching the left side of his silk garments tightly as he tried to summon back the memory of that day’s feeling.
What ultimately remained in his memory was Xi Lingjian pressed firmly against him, the two of them fusing together amidst the chilly rain to create a patch of warmth.
Even the uncomfortable jolting could not disrupt it; he had clearly heard Xi Lingjian’s heartbeat.
Along with his own.
Though erratic, it carried the exact same steady strength.
Like Xi Lingjian’s reassuring deep voice, like the decisive thud of his boots striking the ground.
Realizing that Xi Lingjian’s grip had finally loosened, Fu Liao assumed he had been spacing out for too long and made a hurried move to stand.
“Your Highness has a court session tomorrow, I will not disturb you any longer.” Fu Liao bowed slightly in a parting salute. “When Your Highness has leisure another day, we can discuss the concurrent appointment further.”
Xi Lingjian’s arms suddenly felt empty, leaving behind only creased fabric on his robes to testify that the warmth had truly existed just moments before.
“Tomorrow will do,” he said.
Fu Liao hesitated briefly, looking somewhat reluctant.
Xi Lingjian let out a low chuckle. “Is the Heir Apparent unwilling? I would imagine the Heir Apparent would rather not return to the estate at all.”
With a wry smile, Fu Liao admitted, “Your Highness is truly all-knowing.”
Upon returning to the estate this morning, Fu Pengfu had somehow caught wind of rumors—albeit incomplete ones—only learning that his son had managed to win the Emperor’s favor.
He had dragged Fu Yusu and Fu Yanhou along with him, cornering him the moment he arrived to harp on about it endlessly.
Fu Yusu had remained relatively subdued, but Fu Yanhou’s face was a mask of open disgust, barely bothering to conceal his aversion or maintain pretense. After arguing with his father a couple of times, he simply turned and left.
Fu Pengfu had no clear idea what he was even praising him for; from what Fu Liao gathered listening to him rant for a while, his father seemed convinced he had cut a majestic figure on horseback during the duel, which was why the Emperor had noticed him and bestowed an official post upon him.
Not until Fu Yusu mentioned that he had won the Emperor over through “eloquence” and been appointed to a strictly “civil post” like Rectifier of Texts did Fu Pengfu snap out of his reverie.
Followed instantly by a towering rage, cursing him for sweet-talking deceit, willingly plunging into bed with the Old Party, and shamelessly accepting a civil appointment.
Even Fu Liao had been startled for a moment by that instantaneous mood swing, needing Fu Yusu to spend quite some time soothing his father down.
Even while mediating, Fu Yusu hadn’t forgotten to remind Fu Liao that their father utterly despised the literary sort, warning him never to provoke him further.
Nodding in agreement, Fu Liao had grabbed an excuse to retreat to his room first.
While Fu Pengfu’s behavior was undoubtedly bizarre, the person who had meticulously poked at every single one of his father’s temper triggers in rapid succession was none other than Fu Yusu.
Recalling this, Fu Liao could not help casting a glance toward Xi Lingjian.
Did he know about this?
Yet the next second, he realized how muddled his own thinking was.
Why would he ever imagine Xi Lingjian would brief him on such matters?
Still, he genuinely had zero desire to linger at the Marquis of Mingliu estate any longer.
With the expression Fu Pengfu was wearing, it was clear the man wasn’t finished with him, and he preferred to steer clear entirely.
“Then I shall come to trouble Your Highness once more after you return from court tomorrow.”
Unaware of it himself, the expression on Fu Liao’s face had relaxed considerably, resembling a stream breaking through early spring ice—a sight pleasant enough to gladden anyone’s mood.
Xi Lingjian was the one enjoying that view.
“I will see the Heir Apparent out,” he said.
Fu Liao paused, offering no immediate response.
On the very first day he met Xi Lingjian, he had offered to escort him out of the estate as well, an offer Xi Lingjian had ignored.
Though back then, it had mostly been a polite brush-off intended to deny him any room to negotiate.
At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, assuming Xi Lingjian was simply being heavily guarded against him, which was entirely normal.
Yet now, his relationship with Xi Lingjian… probably still wasn’t close enough to warrant the Regent condescending to see him out to the gates.
He didn’t suspect Xi Lingjian of harboring any sinister plots; he simply felt it was improper.
If the man genuinely agreed, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but the mere thought of it made him want to retreat.
“There is no need,” he ultimately declined. “Your Highness should rest early; just have a servant guide me.”
A flicker of stiffness crossed Xi Lingjian’s face as he rubbed his thumb ring.
Giving Fu Liao a deep, unreadable look, he said, “Then I will have Yin Ruche see you out.”
Fu Liao acknowledged the instruction. As he stepped out of the room alongside Xi Lingjian, the latter murmured a few brief instructions to Yin Ruche.
“This way, Heir Apparent.” Maintaining a strictly professional demeanor, Yin Ruche prepared to lead the way.
The chill of the early spring morning breeze turned biting by nightfall, causing Fu Liao to shiver involuntarily.
It seemed the Regent’s manor was indeed much warmer.
Especially Xi Lingjian’s study.
His hands, battered by the cold wind, slowly regained warmth, as though covered by the living heat of another person.
(“Right.”)
Just as Fu Liao was about to walk away, a sudden thought struck him, and he turned back. “If Ji Liandu is brought back, Your Highness must exercise caution in handling him.”
Judging by the efficiency of Xi Lingjian and Mi Yin, capturing Ji Liandu back shouldn’t take long it might even happen while he was asleep tonight.
“His resistance is to be expected; these things cannot be rushed,” he added.
Slightly towering over him, Xi Lingjian looked down from his height and let out a long exhale.
Realizing the man was growing impatient, Fu Liao quickly turned on his heel and prepared to leave.
(“Oh, and.”)
Xi Lingjian spoke up abruptly.
Halting his steps, Fu Liao turned back to look at him with his familiar expression of ready attentiveness.
Every time, he remained so composed, carrying that hint of inquiry as though perpetually prepared to listen to whatever he had to say.
“Extremely sour.” Xi Lingjian’s outer brow twitched slightly, his face dropping back into a blank mask.
Fu Liao froze.
“The actinidia fruit,” Xi Lingjian said. “Sour enough to kill.”