Chapter 69: Jinling City (38)
Lin Zikui lay facedown, his entire body so limp he couldn’t move at all. Hearing Xiao Zhaoling’s steady breathing beside him, he thought to himself that he had fallen asleep quite quickly.
But Lin Zikui had been thoroughly exhausted as well. It felt as though half the night had already passed. He had stood through the entire morning court session during the day, then ridden on horseback through the streets in the afternoon. He had never been particularly skilled at riding; he didn’t have that sort of talent. His inner thighs had been rubbed raw and sore.
Only just now had Xiao Fu discovered how badly the saddle had chafed him. He had carefully blown on the irritated skin and applied medicine for him.
Xiao Fu had asked, “You weren’t good at riding. The saddle didn’t fit properly. Why didn’t you say anything today?” He remembered the way Lin Zikui had walked after returning from the Zhuangyuan parade—his steps had been somewhat slow. The saddle had rubbed his legs until they were red and broken, harsher even than Xiao Fu had been with him.
Lying flat on his back, one leg bent slightly, Lin Zikui shook his head. “It didn’t hurt much during the day. It was only now that it started to hurt a bit.”
Pain in places others couldn’t see—Lin Zikui had always endured it quietly. After enduring long enough, he would grow numb to it. But when the pain was under Xiao Zhaoling’s gaze, it felt completely different. He could feel it. He felt cherished, loved. Xiao Fu cared about every tiny scratch on his body. He no longer had to suffer in silence.
Because of the injury, and out of consideration for Lin Zikui’s feelings, Xiao Fu had been slow and gentle each time he moved. Yet even so, once it was over, Lin Zikui could only lie on his stomach. He didn’t even have the strength left to sit up and put on a robe.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The next morning.
At the hour of Mao (5-7am), Xiao Fu—conditioned by years of rising for court—automatically opened his eyes. He reached up to lift the bed curtain and glanced at the light outside the window. Lowering his gaze again, he looked at Lin Zikui’s peaceful sleeping face. Lin Zikui was still sleeping soundly in his arms, lying against him. His cheeks were faintly flushed. His head was tilted slightly to one side, one ear and half his cheek resting softly against Xiao Fu’s chest. Clear kiss marks remained on his neck, and beneath that, he wore nothing at all.
Xiao Fu’s throat tightened.
At this hour every day, Xiao Fu would curse the mess Yuwen Duo had left behind. Because of it, he had to attend court punctually every morning, leaving him no time to linger with Lin Lang. They had begun at the hour of Xu (7-9pm) and only rested at Zi (11-1am); altogether, he had slept less than three hours.
Reluctant to let go, Xiao Fu slowly loosened his fingers and withdrew his arm. He rose quietly from the bed, draped an outer robe over his shoulders, and stepped outside. Calling for Jin Zun, he handed him his token. “Go to the palace. Tell them I caught a chill and won’t attend court today. Let His Majesty handle matters himself.”
“Alright.” Jinzun turned and vanished in an instant. His qinggong was extraordinary; he disappeared in the blink of an eye. He went straight to the emperor’s sleeping quarters to report, faster than any ordinary messenger could have reached the palace.
The young emperor habitually rose even earlier than Xiao Fu. He would wake at dawn to read, study memorials, and examine the governance treatises left in the imperial library by former emperors, striving to learn how to become a good ruler.
That day, someone suddenly intruded into the palace grounds. By the time the person reached the emperor’s residence, Xingqing Palace, the imperial guards finally noticed something amiss and shouted, “Who dares trespass within the imperial palace?!”
Jinzun held up the token and stood calmly outside Xingqing Palace. “The Marquis sent me to see the emperor.”
“The Marquis? The Prince Regent?” The imperial guards recognized Xiao Fu’s token at a glance. But what was this child? His martial skills were so high, and he appeared to be Turkic. Did the Prince Regent keep Turkic guards at his side?
The doors of Xingqing Palace opened. The young emperor’s voice came from within. “You are one of my Imperial Father’s men. If he sent you, what was his intention?”
“The Marquis said he was feeling unwell and would not attend court today. He asked that the emperor be informed and handle matters accordingly,” Jinzun conveyed honestly.
The young emperor immediately recognized that tone—it was indeed his Imperial Father’s way of speaking. He studied Jinzun with curiosity. “Why have I never seen you at Imperial Father’s side before? Are you one of his shadow guards? You seem very familiar with the palace. Do you come often?”
“That wasn’t your concern. The message has been delivered.”
Jinzun tucked the token away and leapt from a jade pillar up to the glazed rooftop, flying off like a swallow.
Yuwen Xuan tilted his head back to watch him go. He couldn’t help thinking that his Royal Father was not only formidable in martial skill himself, but was also surrounded by experts—even a mere child was this capable.
If one day Royal Father grew dissatisfied with him and wanted his life, he would have no means of resistance.
Would Royal Father ever do such a thing?
Yuwen Xuan had diligently fulfilled his role as emperor precisely to satisfy him—to prove that no one else could do the job better. He handled state affairs personally and worked tirelessly, and indeed, he had earned praise and approval. Yet in his heart, he still feared the Prince Regent.
After delivering the message and returning, Jinzun intended to report back to the Marquis, only to find that he had gone back to bed.
Why was the Marquis sleeping in today? Normally, he always attended court.
Jinzun did not disturb him. He sat on the steps at the entrance to the courtyard and faintly heard voices from inside.
It seemed Young Master Lin had awakened as well.
Young Master Lin asked, “Is it already the hour of Chen? Why didn’t you go to court?”
The Marquis replied, “Oh, the young emperor wasn’t feeling well. There was no court today. Sleep a little longer.”
Young Master Lin believed him and even advised him, “His Majesty is still so young. If he busied himself excessively with state affairs and overworked his body and mind, illness would be inevitable. As his Royal Father, you should care for him more.”
Xiao Fu responded perfunctorily, “I know.”
Lin Zikui said, “Go to the palace this afternoon to see His Majesty.”
Xiao Fu replied in a nasal tone, “I won’t go.”
Lin Zikui spoke earnestly, trying to persuade him: “He isn’t feeling well, and with both his parents gone, if you don’t go see him, who else would…”
Xiao Fu, “You aren’t feeling well either. How could I leave you?”
Lin Zikui shook his head, hesitating. “I… I’m not unwell.”
“Didn’t it hurt here?” Xiao Fu reached out and touched him. Lin Zikui twisted away as if scalded, only then realizing that he was completely naked. The bedding was neat and clean, yet the mingled, mottled scent of the two of them still lingered.
Lin Zikui couldn’t say it hadn’t hurt—but it hadn’t been as bad as he had imagined.
Ordinarily, he had thought it would last no more than half an incense stick. Who could have known it would be repeated for the length of two full incense sticks, and Xiao Zhaoling had shown no sign of tiring?
The first time had been hard to endure. Lin Zikui had felt deeply unaccustomed to it in the water—he couldn’t find proper footing, and Xiao Fu had been able to lift him with ease. Fingers stirred through the water, blending its warmth. Lin Zikui had struggled to bear it, yet he had clenched his teeth and endured it all.
He endured for a long time; Xiao Fu endured as well—slowly.
The latter two times, Xiao Fu had lifted the young Zhuangyuan from the water and tended to him carefully. Beneath the red bridal candles and within the bed curtains, Lin Zikui had still felt as though he were in the water, like a drifting, unanchored boat, sweat soaking him through. In the hazy candlelight, their shadows had been cast upon the wall. The moment he noticed them, Lin Zikui had flushed and quickly turned his eyes away, wishing he could blow out those distant flames. Better if they were extinguished—then he wouldn’t have to see.
But he didn’t possess such formidable martial skill. When he tried to blow them out, breathless, the faint puffs turned instead into sounds he couldn’t suppress—half sob, half gasp. Realizing he had made a sound he shouldn’t have, Lin Zikui had pressed his lips tightly together in mortification. Xiao Fu had lowered his head to kiss him, and a voice had slipped from the corner of his mouth: “Does it feel good?”
Good… good… He hadn’t dared to say it.
It had felt like losing himself entirely—like a fleeting ascent to paradise. Lin Zikui hadn’t dared to cry out or shout, terrified someone might hear. He had suppressed and restrained himself the whole time. When Xiao Fu had pulled the quilt over both of them, enclosing them beneath it, Lin Zikui had felt a faint fortress-like sense of safety within the bedding. Only then had he let out a muffled sound. Xiao Zhaoling had even forced him to answer—asking whether it felt good, how about there, did he like it.
He seemed to have said he liked it…
He had also said it was good—and had even called out.
Now that he suddenly remembered it, Lin Zikui’s face burned as if on fire. He burrowed into the quilt, wrapping himself up and refusing to make a sound.
When Xiao Fu touched him, he didn’t move. “I’ll sleep another half hour. You get up first.”
“If you don’t get up, I wouldn’t either. Zikui, get up and let me see. Did the saddle sores still hurt?”
Lin Zikui: “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. Don’t look.”
“Last night you let me look. Now you wouldn’t?”
Lin Zikui: “Not anymore.”
Seeing him wrapped up so tightly, with only the crown of his head exposed, was almost comical. Xiao Fu lay half on his side, propping up his face as he stared at him. “Lin Zikui, are you a snail?”
Lin Zikui’s voice came muffled from under the covers. “Yes.”
“Then stick your head out. The weather’s so nice. Won’t this little snail peek out to take a look?”
“I’ll look later…” He needed to calm down first.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Lin Zikui made a soft sound. “I’ll be hungry in half an hour…”
“Alright then. Your stomach had better be punctual. I’ll have the kitchen prepare something. Eat when you get up.” Since Lin Zikui refused to move, Xiao Fu didn’t move either. Simply watching the top of his head and imagining what Zikui might be thinking filled him with a quiet, indescribable happiness. In truth, this feeling often rose in him when he faced Lin Zikui—a calm and gentle joy.
Xiao Zhaoling refused to go to the palace to see the young emperor, and Lin Zikui couldn’t force him. That afternoon, Xiao Fu took him around to explore the new residence: “This estate had stood empty for many years. No one ever lived beside me before. If I remembered correctly, it had originally been a princess’s residence. That princess wasn’t favored, so her estate had only been about this size. I heard she summoned a Tanhua to be her consort. Later, the princess lived to seventy before passing away, and her consort followed her soon after. The estate had been abandoned for decades until now.”
Lin Zikui nodded in understanding. “So it was a princess’s residence. No wonder the bathing pool was built so extravagantly.”
“There was more than just that one pool in this estate. And it couldn’t even be called extravagant. If you entered the palace and saw the emperor’s white jade pool—it was like an entire bathhouse built of jade. That was extravagant. But it wasn’t as good as ours. Ours was small, just enough for two people. That is sufficient.”
Xiao Fu had thought the location of this estate suitable, so he had reserved it for Lin Zikui and had it renovated. He planted the flowers and fruit trees Lin Zikui liked and set the main courtyard close to the wall nearest his own Marquis Dingbei residence.
During the renovations, Xiao Fu had also inadvertently noticed a tall and flourishing ancient osmanthus tree within the estate.
Someone had once said, “Eight hundred years ago, when Jinling was far less prosperous, Daoist Qingji personally planted two trees. Seven hundred years ago, when the former dynasty’s emperor established the imperial capital in Jinling, a young Daoist dug up one of the osmanthus trees and transplanted it to Xingzhi Temple in the outskirts of the capital. That osmanthus tree received the prayers and kneeling of countless people and now stood lush and towering, said to possess divine spirit. The two trees had grown from the same root. The one at Xingzhi Temple protected the common people. The one before you protected only the master of this residence—blessing him with a lifetime of freedom from worry, peace, and joy.”
[The End]
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Finally it’s the End!!!! Thank you everyone for tagging along all the way here! <3333
