His thumb stroked back and forth over those alluring, spring-flower-like lips that were so beguiling.
“Huaiqiang,” Bai Rong’s soft, tender voice rang out from outside the door, “may I come in?”
“Come in.”
The man’s calm, serene voice came from inside the room.
Bai Rong pushed open the door and entered, his eyes immediately falling upon Xie Huaiqiang, who was sitting before the writing desk, intently reviewing documents with his head bowed.
Catching a glimpse of the person lying on the bed out of the corner of his eye, Bai Rong quickly turned his gaze over there, his dark pupils constricting sharply.
Narrowing his eyes, Bai Rong withdrew his gaze and walked over to Xie Huaiqiang, asking with an air of casual small talk, “Why is Your Majesty here?” He added, “Wasn’t he being punished by Madam with forced kneeling in the ancestral hall?”
Without even lifting his head, Xie Huaiqiang replied, “He fainted halfway through. His constitution is frail, and we cannot afford any accidents right now.” Pausing slightly, he asked, “What brings you to see me?”
A tender, caring tone colored Bai Rong’s soft voice: “Huaiqiang is burdened with countless affairs of state and works tirelessly for the country; he needs to nourish his body. I’ve brewed a bowl of ginseng soup for Huaiqiang to build up his strength.”
Hearing Bai Rong’s words, Xie Huaiqiang finally lifted his eyelids to look.
At that moment, Bai Rong was holding a bowl of ginseng soup.
He presented the soup bowl right before Xie Huaiqiang. “This ginseng is already a century old, and it’s even the rarest type of fire ginseng, extremely nourishing. My Lord, you should drink it while it’s hot; once it cools down, it won’t be as effective.”
Xie Huaiqiang withdrew his gaze from the soup bowl and looked at Bai Rong, who was gazing at him with lingering affection.
Bai Rong’s appearance ranked among the finest in the Great Zhou, and his talent was naturally second to none. He had captivated countless young maidens’ hearts, and no small number of young lords were infatuated with him as well.
His father was the Commander of the Imperial Guard, and his brothers and relatives all held official posts in the imperial court. Without requiring Xie Huaiqiang to deliberately woo them, they already fell naturally under his command.
Xie Huaiqiang accepted the soup bowl from Bai Rong’s hands and lowered his head to sip from it.
An exceptionally cautious and probing question rang out in his ear: “Huaiqiang, may I stay here tonight?”
The meaning could not have been clearer.
After uttering those words, Bai Rong nervously bit his lower lip, his fingers unable to stop twisting his sleeve as he awaited the reply from the man before him.
Xie Huaiqiang slowly set down the soup bowl in his hand. “You may.”
Bai Rong was instantly overjoyed. He hastily offered, “I’ll go wake the Emperor and have him move to the side chamber.”
“He is running a fever and cannot be woken,” Xie Huaiqiang stated flatly.
Bai Rong hesitated for a moment. As realization dawned upon him, the smile on his lips became impossible to suppress: “Then I must trouble My Lord to condescend and come to Rong’er’s room instead.”
Never had Bai Rong expected Xie Huaiqiang to agree so readily to share intimacy with him; his joy could not possibly have been greater.
As Xie Huaiqiang stood up and left the bedchamber, he instructed the servant waiting by the door, “Keep an eye on the person inside. If the fever becomes too severe, go fetch a physician.”
The servant respectfully answered, “Yes, Your Highness.”
Bai Rong’s bedchamber was arranged in the main courtyard, not far from Xie Huaiqiang’s own bedroom.
The moment Xie Huaiqiang stepped into the bedchamber, he was greeted by an overwhelming, rich fragrance of dark agarwood. Wisps of blue smoke were still curling upward from the incense burner on the small side table, and Bai Rong himself wore this exact scent.
Xie Huaiqiang did not find the scent offensive, yet his mind involuntarily conjured up another kind of fragrance, the scent of ambergris.
Bai Rong stepped before Xie Huaiqiang, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he spoke with coy, bashful shyness, “Huaiqiang, let us rest. I will help you undress.”
Xie Huaiqiang offered no verbal response; he merely raised both arms, his intention self-evident.
Bai Rong hurriedly reached out, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of Xie Huaiqiang’s waist sash to untie it. At that very moment, urgent knocking shattered the silence outside the door: “Your Highness, this is terrible! The Emperor has coughed up a mouthful of blood.”
It was the servant whom Xie Huaiqiang had just instructed to watch over Wen Chu.
Xie Huaiqiang’s brows knitted tightly together. “He truly gives people no peace.”
With that, he pushed Bai Rong aside and strode away.
Left behind in the empty room, Bai Rong stamped his foot in furious frustration, venomous and sharp gleams shooting from his eyes: “A puppet emperor, from this day forward, I, Bai Rong, and you are irreconcilable enemies.”
Sunlight pierced through the clouds and streamed into the room.
Wen Chu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and slowly, he opened his phoenix-like eyes.
Past noon already; he had slept for such a long time again.
Something was resting on his forehead. Reaching up, Wen Chu removed it and lowered his gaze to see a damp square handkerchief.
Wen Chu stared blankly at the handkerchief in his hand for a moment. “It seems I’ve fallen ill once more.”
“You have been unconscious from high fever for three days.” The man’s characteristically deep and cold voice sounded beside him.
Wen Chu was startled. He knew he had slept for a very long time, but he never imagined it had been this long. He quickly sat up and looked toward the source of the voice: Xie Huaiqiang was sitting by the writing desk, head bowed as he handled state affairs. Then Wen Chu shifted his gaze, sweeping it around the room to confirm that he was indeed inside Xie Huaiqiang’s bedroom.
The interior furnishings had not changed in the slightest since his visit several years ago.
When Wen Chu was a youth, he had been very attached to Xie Huaiqiang, and thus he had visited his estate on more than one occasion.
At that time, Xie Huaiqiang treated him like an elder brother: holding an umbrella for him on rainy days, draping a cloak over his shoulders in the cold. Because Wen Chu’s health was poor and he would suffer from coughing fits during seasonal changes, Xie Huaiqiang would brew water with honey and pears for him to drink to suppress the cough.
When he visited the estate to play and encountered stormy weather preventing his return to the palace, Xie Huaiqiang would surrender his own plush, soft bed for him to sleep in. Fearing that Wen Chu would be frightened by thunder and lightning while sleeping alone, Xie Huaiqiang would lay down a pallet on the floor and keep him company through the night.
Slender, pale fingertips grazed the soft mattress. “Why am I here?”
“You fainted in the ancestral hall, and after a servant discovered you, you were brought here.” Xie Huaiqiang set down his writing brush, his deep gaze locking onto Wen Chu’s handsome yet sickly face. “The carriage is waiting outside the main gate.”
Indeed, it was time for him to return. Wen Chu sat up on the edge of the bed. “I want to take Yu’er back with me.”
Since Yu’er was not in the imperial palace, he had to be here, he was simply being barred from seeing the child.
With unwavering, unshakable firmness in his tone, Xie Huaiqiang replied, “No.”
“Why?” Wen Chu’s eyes flickered, his emotions swelling with uncontrollable agitation. “I have already submitted to your every whim and manipulation; moreover, you no longer have any need to use Yu’er to threaten me.”
Lifting his eyelids slightly, Xie Huaiqiang offered a cold, derisive smirk. “This is your punishment, punishment for conspiring with Yuwen Jie to plot against this Prince. When one does wrong, one must bear the consequences.”
Wen Chu had always been left helpless before Xie Huaiqiang’s deliberate torment. Falling silent for a moment, he asked, “What must I do for you to return Yu’er to me? I am willing to do anything!”
Gazing at Xie Huaiqiang with damp, glistening eyes, his voice carried a tone of desperate pleading.
Xie Huaiqiang studied Wen Chu with a fixed, steady gaze for a moment before looking away. “Kneel.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Wen Chu dropped to his knees before him.
He understood all too well that the man simply wished to humiliate him; he would comply.
Before Xie Huaiqiang could even speak further, Wen Chu lowered his head and pressed his forehead against the floor in a sharp kowtow.
Seeing this, Xie Huaiqiang smiled casually, though his gaze turned chillingly glacial to the extreme. “Very well. If you willingly share a passionate kiss with a servant in this estate, this Prince will allow you to take Yu’er away.”
With that, he let out a cold shout toward the doors: “Someone come in.”
At the command, the servant waiting outside hurried into the room, bowing respectfully to Xie Huaiqiang. “Does Your Highness have any instructions for this slave?”