The cloud-brocade dragon-patterned curtain descended lazily, sealing off a secluded world. Taking this quite naturally as Xie Chen’s response, Nan Rongchen twitched his finger beneath the silk-threaded quilt, causing an exquisite plum-blossom dart to slide smoothly into his palm.
He must have truly lost his mind to actually petition Xie Chen like a commoner. “If you cannot do it, get out.”
With his injuries this severe, the best course of action was naturally to plunge another blade into himself. Passing out would not only spare him a spell of pain, but also help him evade the nauseating hypocrisy of false pleasantries.
One could not rack up hatred points all in a single day, after all.
Should his hand slip too heavily and he unfortunately perish, then that would simply be a matter of fate and timing.
The subtle movement beneath the brocade quilt did not escape Xie Chen’s notice. Pinning Nan Rongchen’s wrist down through the bright-yellow brocade quilt, he parted his lips with a suppressed trace of anger: “As you wish.”
Seeing that peach-blossom eye, which always curled into an obnoxious arc, now slightly narrowed, and noting that the Wu god still had his moments of displeasure, Nan Rongchen felt his mood improve for no particular reason, prompting him to maliciously provoke: “What, are you afraid that Gu will die?”
“You treat Gu so well that Gu might truly fall for you.”
“Xie Chen.”
The sudden rumble of spring thunder swallowed his words. Unable to glimpse the scenery outside the window, the only thing within his field of vision was a sweep of red robes, faintly patterned with silver-white threads just like the wind-whipped prayer flags of the Wu temple.
“This deity said before, self-harm is forbidden.”
A sentence of seemingly genuine yet deceptive emptiness recalled Nan Rongchen to consciousness. The plum-blossom dart in his palm had vanished without a trace. Frowning in displeasure, his eyes snapped open to meet Xie Chen’s heterochromatic eyes that had now revealed their true form.
One black, one crimson, paired with that mane of snowy hair and scarlet robes, he looked far more like a bewitching, seductive ghost than anything associated with the word god.
“This humble believer has been wedded to my husband for many years, yet our affinity for descendants is thin, and we have failed to produce a child. I beseech the Wu god to bestow a child upon us.”
“I beseech the Wu god to protect my aging mother so her chronic illness may heal and she may live a hundred years.”
“I beseech the Wu god to ensure my younger brother’s safe return.”
Several prayers echoed around him. Nan Rongchen turned his head to look: outside the pale-gold curtains, four pale-gold stone pillars supported the vaulted ceiling, and a woman in plain clothes was kneeling on a round rush mat, eyes closed in devout prayer.
“This humble believer does not know what wrong she has committed to suffer the punishment of childlessness. If I can successfully bear a child, this humble believer is willing to trade half her remaining life.”
Within Lin Yue’s borders, the only statue ordinary people could so openly worship was that of the Wu god.
It seemed he was currently inside the Wu temple. Propping himself up with a hand to rise from the couch, Nan Rongchen found himself completely unable to move. Looking down, he saw he was left wearing only two layers of inner garments.
Offering no struggle, he lay back down obediently, letting his gaze drift aimlessly across the top of the canopy. “So, this is the punishment inflicted by the Wu god?”
Xie Chen was never a proper medical immortal. In truth, within the Nine Provinces, he had never laid eyes on any other immortals; perhaps due to living for too long, or having scrambled his brains during some tribulation, he could not even remember his own origins.
Nan Rongchen’s injuries remained just as thorny as before. Although Xie Chen could alleviate the pain at the wound site, it was merely superficial and unable to fully heal him, forcing him to rely on mortal methods of gradual recuperation.
Yet how could Nan Rongchen possibly be an obedient sort? Tweaking that feather-light plum-blossom dart, he circled a red glow around it. “It deserves to be punished.”
The intention was glaringly obvious, as he wanted to destroy the plum-blossom dart. But obtaining it had not been easy, and Nan Rongchen liked it quite a deal, so he softened his tone: “With the Wu god here, how could Gu ever self-harm?”
“I simply wanted to catch a glimpse of you. Why take it out on the plum-blossom dart?”
This kind of shameless display of weakness was a trick he had pulled countless times in his youth before the Empress Dowager and Xiao Yuanqing; it was a skill truly perfected through practice.
Xie Chen laughed out of sheer exasperation while finding it rather novel. Nan Rongchen would scarcely offer a single soft word even when faced with blades and axes, yet he had suddenly grown so docile now.
Twirling the cold-gleaming dart body between two fingers, he played along with Nan Rongchen’s words: “If you want to see me, simply go to the Court of Judicial Review. That way, my scheming for you over the past two days won’t go to waste.”
Xie Chen counted at best as a peripheral character in the protagonist’s camp; Nan Rongchen had never intended to linger in prolonged negotiations with him, much less care what he had been up to at the Court of Judicial Review. Now that the plum-blossom dart was safely back in his possession, not turning hostile immediately was already showing restraint.
The woman’s petitions outside had shifted from begging for children to repentance. Taking the opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere, Nan Rongchen asked: “How does the Wu god usually respond to believers’ wishes on ordinary days?”
True to form, Xie Chen answered everything asked, since it was rare for anyone to pose such questions to him: “It is no different from you reviewing memorials. Within the ledger of fates, responses are granted as affinity dictates.”
The immobilization spell binding Nan Rongchen had lifted at some point. Setting aside everything else, the Wu god’s pain-relieving methods were remarkably effective.
Parting the pale-gold cloud gauze, he stepped barefoot onto the white-jade floor, crossed the swirling mists, and came to a halt among the indigo talisman papers drifting aimlessly through the air.
A single talisman paper drifted down into his palm, densely scrawled with the woman’s bitter hardships.
Since Xie Chen was not stopping him, there was no need to stand on ceremony. Following Xie Chen’s usual protocol, he picked up a brush and penned a reply: Childlessness is not your fault. Go to Miaoyu Pavilion at noon tomorrow; I grant you a hundred pieces of gold and a letter of divorce, so you may go forth and live freely.
The moment his brush finished the stroke, that talisman paper wedged itself between the woman’s pressed palms. He crossed his arms and watched her expression transform from shock to joy, followed by her continuous chanting: “The Wu god is above! Receive this humble believer’s three prostrations. This humble believer will obey the Wu god in all things!”
That trace of a faint smile on Nan Rongchen’s lips caught Xie Chen’s eye, stirring a hitherto unfelt tingle deep within his chest: “To sever a marriage is better than to demolish a temple. His Majesty possesses a truly ruthless heart.”
As he spoke, his gaze dropped to Nan Rongchen’s bare feet, which were already slightly reddened, likely from the chill of the floor. With a slight flick of his hand, a green felt carpet rolled out across the entire floor, its soft plush wrapping snugly around the skin.
“If you trace it back properly, you are an accomplice as well.” Noticing Xie Chen’s attentiveness, Nan Rongchen cast an evaluating glance over the excessively plain, pristine, and rather empty hall, before bestowing a few charitable remarks: “Besides, this woman ought to have been delivered from her sea of suffering long ago; she was merely lacking an opportunity.”
Xie Chen gathered his robes and materialized beside Nan Rongchen: “What makes you so certain? The ledger of fates records no such thing.”
Nan Rongchen watched the woman carefully stash the talisman paper away and depart with her incense basket: “For all her talking, she uttered merely three sentences pleading for children, while the rest were accusations of her husband’s mistreatment.”
“The Wu god is nothing special either.”
Xie Chen had no counter to that. He was well aware he was not omnipotent, especially when it came to Nan Rongchen, whom he could neither fully heal nor see through to his thoughts and desires.
The one bound to him by the ninefold fate contract genuinely harbored a deep, bone-deep grudge against him, using him by tormenting his contract master.
Nan Rongchen was to him much like the porcelain pearl brought by the Xixia envoy at the banquet: its layers intertwined, yet all one could see was the exterior.
A thousand trials of the floating world paled against the person right before his eyes.
At that moment, catching a hint of lingering resentment in Nan Rongchen’s tone, a natural urge to offer compensation welled up within him: “This deity grants you one more wish.”
Nan Rongchen raised his eyes to look at Xie Chen. Setting aside sincerity for a moment, across both lifetimes he had prostrated himself before this statue in the Wu temple dozens of times, crafted entirely of jade, solemn and sacred, yet he had never received half a shred of protection.
Even his final wish, to die comfortably in the snow outside the Wu temple, had failed to come true.
Staring at that single crimson pupil for a long while, he reached out and tapped the tip of his finger against Xie Chen’s eye corner: “Very well, I want this.”
He had almost forgotten. Xie Chen was also here to ensure that this sharp-edged blade of conquest remained sufficiently obedient and useful.
A foolish thing overestimating its own strength.
Though Xie Chen could not fathom why Nan Rongchen had suddenly fixated on this, he was at least glad to know what this ungrateful little wolf explicitly wanted.
Reaching up toward his eye, his fingertips brushed against Nan Rongchen’s withdrawing finger. Pondering whether he should add a cloak for Nan Rongchen later, he exerted a slight, three-fingered pressure, as delicate as if he were toying with that plum-blossom dart.
A moment later, an entirely crimson eyeball edged in white was pinched between his fingertips. Giving it a brief thought, he thoughtfully cast a spell to wash away the bloodstains, then pulled Nan Rongchen’s hand over and placed it directly into his palm.
Curving his remaining peach-blossom eye, he remarked: “No wonder you like it. This sort of scarlet color is indeed rarely seen.”
Nan Rongchen’s defiant smirk froze at the corner of his mouth. Stunned, he watched the half of Xie Chen’s face smeared with a trail of blood, while that eyeball transformed into a glassy texture, rolling around his palm with a cool, smooth tactile sensation.
It wasn’t until Xie Chen offered a teasing remark asking if he was scared now that he snapped back to his senses, curling his four fingers inward to claim that glassy eyeball as his own.
Seeing his reaction and realizing his current appearance was perhaps somewhat unpresentable, Xie Chen cleared the blood off his face with a spell, then looked back up at the various luminous pearls embedded in the vaulted ceiling. Selecting a red one that looked pleasant enough to the eye, he quite casually shoved it straight into his empty eye socket.
Watching this entire sequence of actions with his own eyes, Nan Rongchen flicked his sleeve and departed, returning to recline upon the couch of unknown material. Through the pale-gold gauze curtains, he threw his habitual psychological script right back at him without modification: “Gu is tired. Everything else can be discussed tomorrow.”
Within the Zichen Palace, the Empress Dowager was still adorned with pearls and hair ornaments, her well-maintained hair catching a lustrous sheen from the candlelight. She retained her usual gentle yet commanding and proper demeanor.
Yet beneath her eyes lay a weariness that powder could not conceal, though her hand tightly gripped the one protruding from the brocade quilt: “Imperial Physician Zhang, is His Majesty truly unharmed?”
“Reporting to Her Majesty, His Majesty has been plagued by excessive worry of late,” Imperial Physician Zhang stammered for a long time before managing to connect his words, “coupled with leaving behind old root ailments on the battlefield, and now sustaining a severe injury to his heart meridian in the great hall. Physical weakness is only to be expected; it is truly ill-advised to continue overusing that…”
“This mourning mother knows.” Interrupting his words with a gaze full of worry toward the Son of Heaven on the couch, the Empress Dowager asked: “When will His Majesty wake up?”
“Reporting to Her Majesty, although His Majesty is out of mortal danger, his pulse is floating and erratic. The earliest he can wake, I fear, will be tomorrow.”
Accepting the ginseng soup handed over by Xue Tang, the Empress Dowager forced herself to swallow two sips under her urging: “Very well, go down and brew the medicine. There must be no mistakes.”
“Lord Xiao should also return first. Fortunately, Grand Tutor Zhou remains in the capital to hold down the court.”
The Son of Heaven lay upon a couch piled high with brocades, his cascade of raven hair spilling across the pillow, rendering his face and neck even more deathly pale. The bloodstain at the corner of his lips had been wiped clean by the servants, leaving his entire person draped in an aura of utter lifelessness.
Even in death, a beauty would merely look like a seductive ghost.
Ever since successfully entering the Zichen Palace, Xiao Yuanqing had been unable to detect a single spark of vitality from the flesh-and-blood form upon the couch.
Even the concentric knot Nan Rongchen had once handed to him remained hidden beneath the pillow, completely out of sight.
Bowing to the Empress Dowager, he stated: “This subject takes his leave.”
Stepping out of the bedchamber under the guidance of a young eunuch, he still had not shaken off the suffocating oppression. Seeking self-deception, he desperately searched for a reason to explain this anxiety: just what on earth was Nan Rongchen plotting?
At that very moment, Nan Rongchen himself was fast asleep without even a dream, entirely devoid of free time to plot anything. Upon waking up the following day, he immediately accepted a bowl of fragrant, steaming jade porridge handed to him by Xie Chen.
Cupping the jade bowl in his hands, his gaze involuntarily drifted to Xie Chen’s makeshift crimson pupil, finally reaching a definitive conclusion: Xie Chen was truly going to extraordinary lengths to deceive him.
“Send Gu back.”
With the air of someone willing to shoulder any burden, Xie Chen replied: “A clone remains in the Zichen Palace. There is no need to rush this moment.”
Swallowing the spoonful of porridge, Nan Rongchen found its flavor indistinguishable from Xie Chen’s blood: “But Gu has urgent matters, urgently needing to go to Miaoyu Pavilion with my beloved minister to enjoy the music.”