In the afternoon, Jiang Wu laid back on his bed, his lifeless eyes making him look like a mannequin.
From morning until afternoon, he hadn’t taken a single sip of water, let alone eaten anything. Qi Hanmiao was pained and said, “I’ll report to The Great Empress Dowager. We’ll stay a few more days.”
Yin Wuzhi replied, “We should return to the palace as soon as possible.”
The sooner they returned, the sooner the matter with Yao Ji could be resolved. Until it was dealt with, he would feel uneasy.
Seeing no objections from Jiang Wu, Qi Hanmiao nodded and agreed. “I’ll go fetch His Majesty some fresh food.”
After he left, Yin Wuzhi carried Jiang Wu back outside. After just one night, the peach blossoms in the courtyard had bloomed even more. Yin Wuzhi remarked, “It’s overcast; it’ll probably rain tonight.”
Jiang Wu remained motionless. Yin Wuzhi lifted his chin and said, “Look, there are dark clouds in the sky.”
Jiang Wu’s eyelashes trembled slightly, finally showing some response.
Just as Yin Wuzhi had said, the sky had grown gloomy. The clouds were not all the same shade; some were darker, some lighter, and a large patch in the distance was being blown toward them by the wind.
Since entering the palace, Yin Wuzhi had noticed Jiang Wu’s habit of gazing at the sky. If left undisturbed, he could sit still under the eaves for hours, simply watching.
Yin Wuzhi patted his head and said, “Your Majesty, if something is troubling you, you can tell me.”
Jiang Wu didn’t feel troubled; he was simply melancholy. After all, melancholy didn’t need a reason—it was just a part of him.
Yin Wuzhi crouched down in front of him and asked, “Is it because I held you too tightly yesterday and made you uncomfortable?”
It’s not like that. Although a Pessimist might instinctively seek a more comfortable posture, in most cases, they can passively accept their discomfort. Comfort doesn’t bring them joy, and discomfort doesn’t cause them annoyance.
Yin Wuzhi took out a box of rouge and asked, “Does Your Majesty still want this?”
The intricate hollowed-out design swayed before Jiang Wu’s eyes, but it failed to elicit the slightest interest.
He unconsciously recalled Yin Wuzhi’s lips tinted with rouge and the sensation of being kissed by him. Jiang Wu could admit it felt pleasant, even to the point of being enjoyable. But honestly, if it didn’t happen, it wouldn’t make much of a difference to him.
Curiosity about what peaches might taste like flitted across his mind, but he figured not eating one wouldn’t matter much either.
If he were to die and return to a wandering spirit, he wouldn’t feel regret.
Yin Wuzhi put the box away, gazing at him for a while before pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside him. He leaned over and kissed Jiang Wu’s cheek. “Your Majesty.”
He kissed him again. “Your Majesty.”
From his cheek to his lips, Yin Wuzhi pressed on. “Your Majesty, look at your official.”
In the end, he had to reach out and turn Jiang Wu’s head to face him. The crystal-clear eyes were once again void of spirit, as lifeless and empty as if yesterday’s tenderness had been a mere dream.
In Jiang Wu’s heart, Yin Wuzhi remained someone inconsequential.
“Your Majesty…” Yin Wuzhi opened his mouth, trying to say something persuasive, but found he couldn’t think of a single thing that might stir the emperor.
Jiang Wu seldom felt strongly about anything, whether people or objects. Yesterday, Yin Wuzhi had clearly sensed Jiang Wu’s fondness and budding feelings toward him, but in just one night, all those ripples of emotion had vanished.
“We’ll return tomorrow,” Yin Wuzhi said. “Let’s prepare a hot bath for now and rest well.”
By dinnertime, Jiang Wu finally felt a pang of hunger. He managed to eat a few bites of tofu pudding, and Yin Wuzhi immediately ordered hot water to be prepared. As there was no warm pool in the temple, they brought a large wooden tub into the room and filled it with steaming water.
Jiang Wu was undressed and eased into the tub.
He stretched his legs in the spacious tub and slowly slid down. Yin Wuzhi caught his head with one hand, saying, “It’s too small for floating. Be careful not to drown.”
Yin Wuzhi placed a wooden headrest under Jiang Wu’s head, carefully gathering his long hair. “My father often helped my mother arrange her hair. When we were in the southern territories, he even crafted a custom long wooden tub for her. It had a wooden headrest, just like this.”
Jiang Wu had heard about how close King Dingnan and his wife were. Perhaps it was because of his father’s devotion that Yin Wuzhi had grown into such an obsessive person.
Jiang Wu ignored him, but Yin Wuzhi didn’t mind. He rolled up his sleeves and began wiping Jiang Wu’s body with a towel. “You’re just not used to being human. Once you get accustomed to it, you’ll see its perks. From now on, I’ll always stay by your side, just like my father stayed by my mother’s side.”
Yin Wuzhi’s gaze rested on Jiang Wu, who merely lowered his lashes, watching his servant’s hands submerged in the water.
Yin Wuzhi’s hands were elegant, looking especially pale under the water, their tone complementing the color of his knees.
The hot water had turned them slightly pink.
Yin Wuzhi spoke softly, “Even your horns need proper cleaning.”
Jiang Wu: “?”
Jiang Wu: “!”
“Yin Wuzhi.”
Yin Wuzhi raised his eyes. “Your Majesty, you’re finally acknowledging me.”
Jiang Wu wanted to rise, but the tub was just the right size for him to stretch out his legs. It trapped him there, and getting up required grabbing onto the tub’s edge.
Too lazy for that, he simply ordered, “Don’t move.”
This emperor, as limp and idle as a pile of dough, had an irritable temper despite his lethargy. But Yin Wuzhi didn’t listen.
“Yin Wuzhi.”
Jiang Wu wiggled his toes, trying to push himself up, only for Yin Wuzhi to grasp his ankle and pull him back down.
Jiang Wu: “…”
“What does Your Majesty take me for?”
Jiang Wu straightened one leg while curling the other. Then, abruptly, he kicked back, scowling. “Yin Wuzhi.”
“Yin Wuzhi, to Your Majesty, what am I?”
“Yin Wu—” Jiang Wu’s words were interrupted by a soft, stifled whimper, his tearful eyes glancing up. Yin Wuzhi pressed, “What am I?”
A familiar tremor rippled through Jiang Wu’s body as he struggled to articulate. His knees brushed together, then parted, his crystalline eyes shrouded in mist and tinged with confusion. “What… do you want?”
Shadows loomed over him as Yin Wuzhi gazed down. “I wish to spend my life with Your Majesty, to grow old together.”
“You want to be empress,” Jiang Wu muttered, his fingertips brushing the wooden edge of the tub as he stammered, “You’re not even… a wom—mmph.”
Fifteen minutes later, the limp emperor was back in bed.
His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, began to flutter shut.
Jiang Wu realized he still didn’t understand human nature. He had assumed only regular activities caused fatigue. Now he knew that being “overly active” led to an even deeper exhaustion.
Yin Wuzhi leaned over him, gently kissing his cheek. “Your Majesty, sleepy again?”
“Hmph.”
At last, Yin Wuzhi caught a faint flicker of vitality in Jiang Wu’s expression. Smoothing down Jiang Wu’s damp hair, he said with satisfaction, “Your Majesty, you’ve agreed to let me be your empress.”
Jiang Wu let out a soft huff through his nose.
“It’s fine if you don’t agree.” Yin Wuzhi smiled. “As long as I can stay by your side, I don’t care about titles.”
Half-asleep, Jiang Wu thought to himself, Yin Wuzhi had stayed by his side for so long and never really demanded much. Even when others mocked him about Noble Consort Jiao, he endured without forcing Jiang Wu to take a stand.
…Loving someone as much as Yin Wuzhi did must be exhausting.
An hour later, Jiang Wu no longer felt that way.
Now he thought he was the one who was truly exhausted.
He drifted off to sleep but was soon startled awake by the commotion outside. Just as Yin Wuzhi had predicted, rain had started to pour, accompanied by loud thunderclaps. The storm raged fiercely in the mountains. Beside him, Yin Wuzhi rose from the bed.
Jiang Wu remained still as Yin Wuzhi strained his ears to listen.
Amid the thunder and lightning, fragmented shouts could be heard: “Assassins—!”
This was followed by the clash of swords.
Yin Wuzhi quickly threw on some clothes. He glanced at Jiang Wu, took a step toward the door, but hesitated and stopped.
Jiang Wu understood—Yin Wuzhi was likely worried about the King Dingnan. If assassins had infiltrated the temple, the best-case scenario was that they had slipped in unnoticed by the guards. The worst-case scenario was that King Dingnan and Marquis Wu might already be injured.
With the stormy weather, nearly a month of peace, and the plan to return to the palace the following day, it was no surprise that people might have let their guard down tonight.
The assassins had chosen their timing well.
Yin Wuzhi paced back and forth, his breathing quick and erratic.
The small courtyard where they stayed remained quiet, indicating that most of the commotion seemed concentrated near the Great Empress Dowager’s quarters. However, the sound of heavily armed soldiers approaching the courtyard grew louder, likely sent by the Great Empress Dowager upon noticing something amiss, to protect Jiang Wu.
Yin Wuzhi quickly stepped outside to inquire about the situation. But just as he exited the room, a dark figure lunged at him. Unarmed, Yin Wuzhi dodged the attack by tilting his head.
Several more figures rushed forward, swiftly engaging the attacker in battle.
Jiang Wu’s secret guards wore masks, while the assassins were veiled in black cloth, making it easy to distinguish between the two sides.
However, more and more veiled figures began to appear.
The soldiers who had just arrived joined the fight as well.
The downpour hammered loudly, almost deafening. Yin Wuzhi retreated into the room and returned to the bedside. From the moment he stepped out and encountered the assassin to the moment he returned, less than a quarter of an hour had passed. Yet the person on the bed had vanished.
Jiang Wu was being carried away through the torrential rain.
He was utterly exhausted, his mind filled with complaints.
These assassins were unbelievably inept. If they wanted to abduct him, they should have entered through the window. The moment Yin Wuzhi stepped out, one of them had been standing outside the window, dithering. Jiang Wu had to put on his outer robe and personally open the window for them.
Zhao Cheng, carrying him, was also feeling conflicted and bewildered.
He had dealt with Jiang Wu in the past and knew the emperor was a martial arts master. His original plan had been to toss some incense into the room to knock him unconscious before making his move. Unexpectedly, Jiang Wu, in his dazed state, had opened the window himself and practically bumped into him.
It seemed that Gu Yan hadn’t betrayed him after all—Jiang Wu, now afflicted with this “puppet drowsiness syndrome,” was truly as fragile as a newborn.
Zhao Cheng wiped the rain from his face. Meanwhile, Jiang Wu, jostled and swayed, felt dizzy and soon drifted back into sleep.
When he woke again, the pounding rain had suddenly faded into the distance.
A voice said, “Seal the entrance. I don’t want to see anyone else’s footprints here.”
Jiang Wu was unceremoniously tossed onto the ground. Limp like a noodle, he sprawled there, content and motionless.
His clothes were soaked through, and since he’d only donned an outer robe earlier, being thrown onto the ground left his pale legs partially exposed.
Zhao Cheng stared at those stark white legs for a moment, then grabbed Jiang Wu and dumped him into the hot spring in the cavern.
Caught off guard, Jiang Wu inhaled a mouthful of water. He wanted to cough, but more water flooded his nose, forcing his mouth open. An inexplicable exhilaration filled him.
Finally, he thought. Death is finally coming.
Whoever this assassin was, when he returned as a wandering soul to meet Yin Wuzhi, he would be sure to thank the assassin’s entire family.
At the spring’s edge, Zhao Cheng, in the middle of changing clothes, looked at Jiang Wu with a peculiar expression.
This… puppet drowsiness syndrome, it seemed, truly stripped people of their will to survive.
Forgetting his half-changed state, Zhao Cheng lunged to grab Jiang Wu. But Jiang Wu, having drifted from one side of the pool to the other, slipped through his fingers. Forced to jump in, Zhao Cheng hauled Jiang Wu out of the water.
Jiang Wu’s face had turned pale blue from suffocation.
Zhao Cheng’s brow twitched violently as he placed Jiang Wu on the edge of the pool, supported his back, and used his inner strength to expel the water from his lungs.
Just as Jiang Wu felt his soul leaving his body, he was abruptly yanked back, coughing and spluttering as he vomited up mouthfuls of water.
“Someone, fetch the Doctor!” Zhao Cheng barked, holding Jiang Wu in his arms with a grim expression. “And bring some clean clothes. Don’t let him catch a chill.”
Looking down at Jiang Wu, Zhao Cheng’s face grew even darker.
His initial plan had been to capture Jiang Wu, use him to exchange for his mother, and humiliate him in the process. But now…
The more Zhao Cheng thought about it, the angrier he became, the veins bulging on his forehead.
Jiang Wu hadn’t expected to survive even in the hands of an assassin. Too tired to care anymore, he decided to sleep again.
When Gu Yan arrived, Jiang Wu had already been dressed in clean clothes and was lying on Zhao Cheng’s bed. Zhao Cheng stood by the bedside, hands clasped behind his back, glaring intently at him.
Gu Yan’s gaze darkened as he bowed. “Your Highness.”
“He’s asleep,” Zhao Cheng said, his twisted expression filled with impotent rage. “He actually fell asleep under my care, the crown prince of an enemy nation.”
Gu Yan stepped forward, glanced at Jiang Wu, and said, stabbing the knife deeper: “He’s sleeping soundly too.”
