* homos*xuality
Ying Wuji had been forged through hardship since childhood. Over the past three years, in his struggle for power, he had personally participated in nearly every campaign fought by Great Qin, leading charges himself on more than one occasion. He was by no means one of those pampered imperial princes unable to endure hardship.
But this accidental fall happened to strike the very wound he had received while fighting assassins two days earlier. The impact was not insignificant. The saber wound across his right shoulder and back burned fiercely, likely having split open again.
Even a man as composed, calculating, and eloquent as he found it difficult to suppress his rising anger.
She was supposed to be the one he meant to torment and take revenge upon. Yet time and again, he had instead been forced to save her and somehow, she always managed to provoke emotions within him that bordered on genuine irritation.
For one destined to become a ruler, the greatest taboo was an unstable heart, one easily stirred to anger and resentment.
With both of his legs pinned beneath her, Ying Wuji was about to throw her aside and rebuke her. But as his hand touched her slender shoulder, he suddenly felt warmth against the side of his neck.
Fresh tears.
A few drops fell one after another, each one startlingly hot.
His heart suddenly tightened. Though he had already been about to push her away, he found himself unable to summon the strength. His hands remained resting lightly upon her shoulders as he hesitated.
All Zhao Shu could think about was his earlier remark comparing her to women of the pleasure quarters. Coupled with the belief that death might soon be approaching, she had long since lost her composure.
She wanted to sit up and move away but panic, shame, and sorrow churned within her. On top of that, the poison’s attack had exhausted every last bit of her strength. Just as she tried to push herself upright, her arms failed her. She choked back a sob before collapsing against him once more.
The room was dim, and though Ying Wuji could not see clearly, he could tell from her faint breathing that something was wrong.
Hadn’t her illness already recovered?
A trace of puzzlement crossed his mind. Without thinking, he reached out and caught her.
This time, her body, still carrying the warmth and moisture of the bath, fell lower against him. Her chest rested against his, while both of his arms encircled her waist.
A faint fragrance lingered after her bath. It was unlike the sandalwood scent he habitually used. Zhao Shu disliked incense. Freshly bathed, she carried only the light, natural fragrance unique to a woman.
The slender waist beneath his hands was separated from his palms by only a thin inner robe. Its softness and smoothness became all the more apparent. As the person in his arms instinctively struggled, every movement revealed the graceful curves of her body even through the fabric.
Ying Wuji’s breathing suddenly grew heavier. He no longer felt the pain from the reopened wound on his back.
“Let go!”
Only when her weak yet stern rebuke sounded beside his ear did he abruptly realize that his hands had somehow slid to the small of her back. Indeed, they had even begun to drift lower.
After a moment’s daze, he immediately rolled over and sat upright, gently pushing her away with both hands.
This time, he recognized his own impulse with complete clarity.
“Get out! You dare use your master’s bath without permission? I’ll settle accounts with you tomorrow.” When he spoke, his voice had already become hoarse beyond recognition.
He truly must have lost his senses.
Still reeling from the lingering pain after suppressing the poison, Zhao Shu remained fearful that her identity might be exposed. Throughout the entire encounter, she had kept her face lowered and never noticed anything unusual about him.
Pulling her robe tighter around herself, she made no effort to dress properly again. With her bare legs and bare feet, she staggered across the thick carpet toward the spiral staircase.
Just as her toes stepped onto the cold stone floor, the man’s commanding voice rang out behind her. “For the next ten days, this lord will be staying at Lantai. Since you have nothing better to do, you’ll move into the tower and attend me personally. Sleep on the small couch outside.”
There was only one night attendant’s couch. It stood within the green gauze alcove of the third-floor study.
Hearing his words, Zhao Shu stopped. Clutching the hem of her robe, she stood there with difficulty, her back still facing him. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath before bowing her head slightly. “Then I’ll return to the outer courtyard first and gather my things.”
“Gather what?” Ying Wuji glanced at her back. He had intended to mention that she was still improperly dressed, but seeing how unsteady she was, he simply strode past her instead. “This lord is about to head out. Go upstairs first and make up the bed. Someone will arrange the rest of your necessities shortly.”
Zhao Shu froze for a moment. Just as she was about to refuse, she saw her little boots kicked over toward her. Remembering that the spare disguise paste and chest bindings were all with Qi Ying rather than in the outer courtyard, she gave up arguing for the moment.
“I don’t have many belongings. They’re all packed in a bundle in the western wing of the outer courtyard…”
Before she had finished speaking, the man had already strode downstairs. When even the sound of his footsteps gradually faded away, Zhao Shu could not help letting out a long sigh before collapsing onto the floor.
***
Even after reaching the outer courtyard and finding the bundle she had mentioned, Ying Wuji remained distracted, his thoughts still caught in the emotions from earlier.
He weighed the soft cloth bundle in his hand, and once again that supple waist and smooth, delicate skin surfaced in his mind.
A bundle that small could hold, at most, one change of clothes.
Cai Pi and Cai Song came forward to pay their respects. Ying Wuji glanced at the younger, slighter Cai Pi and silently compared his build with Zhao Shu’s.
Originally, he had intended to have Cai Pi lend her a set of clothes.
But when he spoke, what came out instead was, “Go to the Wardrobe Pavilion and have two sets of late-winter clothing made. Use his measurements. The fabric… should be of better quality. Have them delivered tomorrow morning.”
With that, he left Lantai.
The knife wound on his shoulder had reopened, and he did not wish anyone to know. He intended to return to his own residence, have Cheng Wu tend to it, and incidentally send a servant to deliver several bundles of official documents to Lantai.
However, by the time he reached the main courtyard, it was already late. Cheng Wu had gone into the palace to attend His Majesty.
The wound on his back grew increasingly damp with blood. It was the saber injury left by the assassin two days earlier. Though not life-threatening, it was deep enough to be troublesome. Ying Wuji had deliberately kept news of the assassination from spreading ahead of time.
Now he found himself in a difficult position.
He had found the medicine but he had no way to bandage the wound himself.
***
A quarter of an hour later, on the third floor of the lakeside tower deep within Lantai.
Zhao Shu had just finished straightening her clothes and neatly rolling up the overly long sleeves and hems. She was about to bend down to make the bed when footsteps sounded upon the spiral staircase.
Three young servants came up.
One carried a shoulder pole laden with bundles of bamboo slips. Another carried a rather large four-tiered purple sandalwood lacquered food box. The last held several sets of men’s fur-lined robes and everyday clothing.
The food box was placed upon the round table outside the bedchamber. The servant arranged eight bowls of soup and dishes before directing another to set the clothes upon the writing table outside. None of them entered the inner room before quietly retreating down the stairs again.
Drawn by the savory aroma of cooking oil and seasoned dishes, Zhao Shu lifted the curtain and stepped out from the inner chamber. Her eyes fell upon a bowl of lettuce and meat soup, one of her favorite dishes from the past. She pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze, intending to tidy the clothes laid out upon the desk instead.
At that moment, Ying Wuji came up the stairs carrying a cloth bundle. He tossed it onto the desk as well. “Eat first. You can tidy things up after you’re full.”
Almost unconsciously, Zhao Shu touched the edge of the disguise paste on her face. It still seemed securely attached, so she could not be bothered to spare it another thought. Without saying a word, she sat down and began eating the meat soup.
The cold poison had nearly claimed her life and drained every last bit of strength from her body. She was truly starving.
Her complexion remained wan and dispirited. Though she was eating, she looked as though every bite tasted like wax. She was dressed in the sleeping robe and silk trousers prepared in the wardrobe for a grown man. The sleeves and trouser legs had both been rolled up a considerable distance, exposing wrists as pale and smooth as freshly cut lotus root.
For reasons he himself could not explain, Ying Wuji realized that ever since he had seen her dressed in women’s clothing that day, each additional glance he cast upon her seemed to draw away another measure of his resentment and indignation.
Now that he had even asked her to dine with him, an unexpected warmth gradually arose within him, almost as though he were sharing a meal with an old friend.
He had never had close friends. Only dead men and subordinates.
Displaying anger, resentment, arguing with words, those were things he seemed never to have possessed from childhood onward. Especially after the tragic death of his younger sister Wuyou, he had come to understand one truth completely.
Those born to a humble maternal family, without influence or support, lived no differently from ants.
They had no right to live as they pleased.
Over the past three years, he had cast aside joy, sorrow, hatred, and anger, freezing his heart solely for the day he could return to Xianyang. Now most of his vengeance had already been achieved. His power had even surpassed everything he had once imagined. Yet the frozen emptiness within his heart brought no comfort.
It was as though he had become a beast whose blood had frozen solid, one no longer capable of stopping its relentless climb toward the highest seat of power.
Until that night atop the city walls, when he followed the direction of the crossbow bolts and saw that desolate, forlorn figure standing alone in the night wind.
The frozen blood within him had begun to flow once more.
Thinking carefully about it, although most of what bound them together was ill fate, and she often provoked only annoyance and anger in him, even that kind of emotional stirring was something exceedingly rare for him.
What was rare naturally became precious.
Having finally sorted through his thoughts, Ying Wuji finished his own dinner in just a few bites. When he turned to look at the person beside him again, he found her increasingly pleasing to the eye. He intended to go downstairs to the bathhouse on the second floor to wash briefly before changing the dressing on his wound.
As he stood up, he casually remarked, “According to the latest intelligence, Son of Heaven Mu, has been ill for three months.”
Son of Heaven Mu, was none other than the current Zhou Wang. He was also Zhao Shu’s maternal grandfather.
The moment she heard those words, Zhao Shu almost immediately set down her bowl. Her expression grew solemn as she looked up in alarm, about to question him but Ying Wuji merely waved a hand and pointed toward the bedframe inside. “After you’ve finished eating, find the medicine chest over there. Bring it downstairs in a quarter of an hour.”
Having said that, he leisurely headed for the bathhouse.
How could Zhao Shu possibly sit still after hearing such news? Restraining herself only because of his order, she endured nearly a quarter of an hour before anxiously grabbing the medicine chest and hurrying downstairs.
“My grandfather… what exactly, ” She stumbled off the final wooden step. Just as she steadied herself and looked up, she was so startled that she immediately turned sideways and lowered her eyes.
Ying Wuji stood there, lean and powerfully built, having only just stepped out of the bath. He had not even put on his bathrobe. In that fleeting glance she saw broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His shoulders, back, chest, and abdomen were covered with a lean layer of well-defined muscle, the lines smooth and balanced despite the many scars that marked his body.
Caught completely undressed, Ying Wuji was momentarily taken aback as well. It had happened at the exact instant he stepped out of the pool.
By the time he quickly pulled on a pair of silk trousers and looked back, he saw that Zhao Shu still kept her face turned aside. An impulse to tease her suddenly arose. Leaving his upper body bare, he walked over and sat upon the couch beside the pool. In a low, amused voice he said, “We’re both men. What’s there you can’t look at? Come here.”
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