Chapter 17#
An Old Wound#
How beautiful could a person be?
The young man was shaking with pain. Bloom after bloom of blood opened across his white robes. Three thousand strands of dark hair spilled loose over his shoulders. He was so pale and fragile he looked as though a breath of wind could carry him away. He braced against the wall and tried to rise, but his body had nothing left — in the end his head fell, defeated.
Dust had soiled the hem of his robes. It did nothing to diminish the luminous dignity of him, bright as the moon.
At the peak of his pain, he was at the peak of his beauty.
Even Li Guanghan, who had cultivated the Way of Nine Coldnesses for a hundred years and long since reached the point of seeing no difference between beautiful and plain — even he paused for just a moment.
“Shifu…”
The young man heard footsteps and hurriedly wiped at the blood at the corner of his mouth, not daring to look up.
“What happened?” Li Guanghan’s detached voice came from above.
He had come to check on Zhu Anning, and had not expected to find his eldest disciple in this state.
The pain was too great. Yin Yuheng had no strength left to parse Li Guanghan’s tone. The blood he wiped away at his lip welled back up again immediately. In the end, he gave up the futile effort.
“It’s an old wound. I’m fine, Shifu…”
This was Zhu Anning’s courtyard. Peach blossoms grew here, and when the breeze passed through, the petals fell onto Yin Yuheng’s white cloak. The young man curled against the drifting flowers and said he was fine.
…He did not look fine.
His junior disciple was still ill. Now his senior disciple was coughing up blood. A weight settled in Li Guanghan’s chest. He frowned, crouched down, and took hold of Yin Yuheng’s hand to check his pulse.
Yin Yuheng looked up — stared at Li Guanghan blankly for a long moment — and then, unexpectedly, smiled.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” Li Guanghan asked, flat as always.
“It does,” Yin Yuheng murmured. “But being this close to Shifu — I’m happy.”
Li Guanghan hadn’t anticipated that answer. He looked up, and found himself meeting Yin Yuheng’s gaze — warm, gentle, full of a longing that asked for nothing but to simply be near.
Li Guanghan stilled briefly. Then his expression returned, as it always did, to nothing at all.
The Way of Nine Coldnesses was derived from the path of detachment. It didn’t sever feeling entirely, but years of cultivation had made him grow cold by degrees. The love or hate of others — it was simply not something Li Guanghan could bring himself to hold in his heart.
Even when it came to his own eldest disciple.
All of whatever feeling remained in him had already been given — to the young boy who had once found him at his most broken, his conviction most worn thin, and saved him, and protected him.
“Your heart meridian carries an old wound. Something must have aggravated it.” Li Guanghan withdrew his fingers from Yin Yuheng’s wrist, brow knitting. “How did you get it?”
He had always thought of his eldest disciple as self-sufficient — someone who didn’t need tending to. But standing here now, he felt, for the first time, a flicker of guilt at how little attention he had paid. He hadn’t even known the boy carried an injury this serious.
And the child had never said a word.
“I was young and reckless — wandered off into the mountain forest, and a demon beast got me,” Yin Yuheng said, vaguely. “Shifu, I really am fine, you don’t need to worry…”
A demon beast? Something stirred in Li Guanghan — though he didn’t pursue the thought.
Something cold was slipped between Yin Yuheng’s lips. A pill. The pain subsided considerably at once.
“I brought those for Anning. Have a few.” Li Guanghan sighed. “An old wound to the heart meridian is difficult to heal. It needs slow and careful recovery.”
“Mm.” Yin Yuheng smiled.
Li Guanghan reached out — he had half-intended to carry Yin Yuheng inside — and then stopped himself.
He remembered that Zhu Anning was still ill. Still lying in the bed inside.
Li Guanghan hesitated for one moment. Then he stood, and said: “Don’t push yourself. Have the novice help you to your room.”
Yin Yuheng said “mm” again, quiet and low.
Li Guanghan looked at him once more, then pushed the door open and went inside.
“Shifu — on the table, I left you—” Yin Yuheng suddenly remembered, and called out sharply.
His voice faltered. He realized Li Guanghan had already closed the door without looking back.
“…qilin horn.”
The last few words slipped out into the empty air. Yin Yuheng leaned against the wall and stared at nothing, a faint shadow passing through his eyes.
“Your Highness!” The young novice came rushing over, face tight with worry. He helped Yin Yuheng up. “How did you fall so ill so suddenly — come, quickly, I’ll take you to the Wenhua Pool!”
The Wenhua Pool was a spiritual spring, known for its properties of nurturing the meridians and healing the body. Since Zhu Anning had come to the Guoshi Manor, Li Guanghan had been taking him there often.
Yin Yuheng managed a few steps and gave a wry smile. “No need. I genuinely don’t have the strength.”
The novice looked at him with mounting distress. “The National Preceptor should have taken you himself. Even if Young Master Zhu is ill — you’re injured too. How could he just leave you like this? You’re both his disciples. How can he treat you so differently?”
The boy looked at the alarming bloodstains covering Yin Yuheng and let a note of grievance creep into his voice.
Yin Yuheng had been a disciple of the Guoshi Manor for years, always treating everyone with warmth and grace. Every person in the manor — without exception — liked and admired him. Seeing him like this, the novice felt the unfairness of it keenly.
“Watch what you say.” Yin Yuheng frowned, his tone weary rather than sharp. “Shidi is hurt — of course Shifu is worried about him. I’m not in any real danger; there’s no need to trouble Shifu…”
“You call this not in danger?” the novice said, distressed.
Yin Yuheng went quiet. After a moment, he said simply: “I really am fine… come on, take me out.”
The novice was at once upset and powerless to do otherwise. He helped Yin Yuheng out through the gate.
…
A carriage was waiting at the entrance to the Guoshi Manor.
The novice let out a breath of relief as he helped Yin Yuheng out. Someone jumped down from the carriage and crossed the distance in a few quick strides, pulling Yin Yuheng into his arms.
Yin Yuheng blinked, startled. “Lu Yan? What are you doing here—”
“I’ve been waiting this whole time!” Lu Yan’s expression was dark. He shot a look at the Guoshi Manor with the air of someone viewing a natural disaster. “What happened?”
“I—”
Lu Yan didn’t wait for an explanation. He picked Yin Yuheng up and deposited him inside the carriage.
Yin Yuheng: “…”
Lu Yan peeled the bloodied cloak from his shoulders, pressed a warming brazier into his arms, and said, with a face like stone: “Now tell me.”
Yin Yuheng gave a small cough. “My old wound flared. I’ve already taken medicine. No need to worry.”
Lu Yan produced a small jade flask — ginseng and medicinal herbs — through gritted teeth. “Nothing good ever happens to you when you go to that manor!”
Yin Yuheng blinked, the picture of innocence.
Lu Yan was seething. He looked like he wanted to say something sharp, jaw tight — in that moment, he looked, if anything, even colder than Li Guanghan.
So this is what Lu Yan looks like when he’s stern, Yin Yuheng thought, with some curiosity. Unable to resist, he reached out and poked Lu Yan’s cheek lightly with one finger.
Lu Yan: “…”
Yin Yuheng let out a soft laugh, leaned back, and closed his eyes to rest.
…
“Heng-ge,” Xiao Bai said, subdued.
Yin Yuheng had lost a lot of blood and was drifting toward sleep, his response lazy. “Mm?”
“Li Guanghan just… walked away like that. He’s really something.”
“It’s not like this is the first time—” Yin Yuheng said, unbothered. “This is why I genuinely don’t like the cold and beautiful type. Acting opposite him is always a letdown.”
“Though after holding in that mouthful of blood for so long, it would’ve been a waste not to put on a scene.”
Xiao Bai: “…”
Yin Yuheng suddenly thought of something. “After the blood-slave business with Shidi is done, that storyline with Shifu and Shidi should wind down for a while, right?”
Xiao Bai scanned through the plot. “Mm — their scenes will thin out after that.”
“No plot restrictions,” Yin Yuheng said, a smile in his voice. “So I get to improvise freely?”
“…” The moment Xiao Bai saw that expression, a shiver ran through it.
“There are a few things I can start moving on,” Yin Yuheng murmured, “while I have the time.”
…
The moment he was back at the Eastern Palace, rest forgotten, Yin Yuheng summoned his staff for a meeting.
Crown Prince business couldn’t be held back for Lu Yan. By the time Yin Yuheng emerged, Lu Yan was sitting in meditation.
“Still angry?” Yin Yuheng walked over and said gently.
Lu Yan opened his eyes and declined to speak.
“I can’t help it — this is my role, and I have to play it. As the Crown Prince Regent, I’m not allowed the luxury of idleness.” Yin Yuheng sat down beside him, chin in hand, smiling. “I really am fine now — see, I’m not even coughing blood anymore.”
Lu Yan kept his face set.
Yin Yuheng leaned closer. “I just gave two orders. Do you want to know what they were?”
Lu Yan: “…”
They were very close. Lu Yan could see the fine detail of Yin Yuheng’s lashes, and in the smiling eyes, his own reflection looking back at him.
“First — I had someone start looking into a cure for a leg condition.”
Lu Yan’s brow furrowed. He spoke at last. “A leg condition?”
“Shen Liyuan has had trouble with his legs for years. I’m going to try to help.” Yin Yuheng smiled.
“I don’t think he’s a good person,” Lu Yan said flatly.
“He did give me the qilin horn. Returning the favor is only right.” Yin Yuheng’s tone was mild.
Shen Liyuan was, of course, not a good person. During their meeting, Yin Yuheng had noticed immediately that Shen Liyuan’s wrist bore a silver bracelet — identical to the one Zhu Anning wore.
He was roughly eighty percent certain that Shen Liyuan was the one pulling Zhu Anning’s strings.
You dealt with one problem at a time. Yin Yuheng hadn’t intended to involve himself in Shen Liyuan’s affairs this early — but Shen Liyuan had walked directly into his path.
“I saw him too that day,” Lu Yan said, frowning. “His leg condition struck me as unusual. It may not be easy to treat.”
“Worth trying, though.” Yin Yuheng shifted closer. “Want to know the second thing?”
“…”
Yin Yuheng’s quiet laugh was warm against Lu Yan’s ear. “Second — I had them look into the current state of affairs in the Demon Clan.”
Lu Yan went very still.
“Shao Jun Lu.” Yin Yuheng’s voice dropped low and amused. “Do you miss home?”
Lu Yan stared at him.
“The Demon Clan is in chaos — factions rising on all sides. But Ah Yan — you are the rightful Shao Jun. Don’t you want to fight for what’s yours?” Yin Yuheng’s voice was light, yet it carried a strange pull.
Lu Yan’s fingers curled, involuntarily.
“You’re arranging for people to get involved in Demon Clan affairs — you want to help me?”
“Mm. I want to help you.” Yin Yuheng’s eyes softened. “You’re my friend. I want to be good to you.”
“…”
Lu Yan thought of his time as Shao Jun — how many had fawned over him, sworn undying loyalty. Yet when he fell and was hunted across a thousand li, not one of them had extended a hand.
But when he had had nothing, someone had reached out to him. Brought him in from the cold. And said —
I want to be good to you.
Lu Yan’s fingers released and then tightened again. His eyes stung. He opened his mouth to speak — and the person in front of him suddenly fell forward.
Lu Yan caught him on instinct.
Yin Yuheng’s vision had gone dark. He slumped against Lu Yan’s chest, and in his fading consciousness heard the other man’s voice, tight with anger:
“Yin Yuheng — and you said you were fine?!”