Chapter 22#

Whispers#

Yin Yuheng made it to the gate one step at a time.

The night was heavy. He didn’t call out to disturb the little servant. He walked two steps, rested, walked two more — his face hidden in the dark, expressionless, cold as a figure carved from ice.

Snow fell on his shoulders and drifted into the wound at his chest, then dissolved into red.

Xiao Bai’s voice was thick. “Heng-ge, just hold on — we’re going home…”

Yin Yuheng’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Home? Crawl home, you mean?”

Xiao Bai choked.

“Commander Qin and Eunuch De were both drawn away,” Yin Yuheng said, voice low. “Only someone with deep roots and long reach could manage that.”

“It’s Shen Liyuan!” Xiao Bai said, grief and fury tangled together. “He’s waiting outside right now!”

Yin Yuheng stumbled forward and pushed the gate open, leaning against it to breathe.

Before him was a darkness that nothing could penetrate. Tonight was truly lightless — no moon, no stars.

Yin Yuheng let out a scornful laugh.

“He wants to watch me crawl to him? Shen Liyuan isn’t worth it.”

“But what do we do?” Xiao Bai fretted.

What indeed.

The cold wind came from behind, carrying snow with it in a howling rush.

He was still standing there when a point of light pierced the darkness ahead.

Like a shooting star across the night sky, it came straight toward him.

A small paper lantern. Its warm yellow glow lit a small patch of the world — and the face of the person holding it.

“…Lu Yan?”

Before Yin Yuheng could react, he was pulled into someone’s arms.

“Yin Yuheng, what the hell happened to you?!”

Lu Yan was barely holding himself together. The arms around Yin Yuheng trembled and didn’t dare tighten.

Caught off guard by the sheer panic in Lu Yan’s voice, Yin Yuheng blinked — and finally came back to himself. He smiled. “What are you so worried about? I’m fine.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he found Lu Yan looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“…Truly, I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.” Yin Yuheng pressed on. “I just lost a little blood.”

“Why are you losing blood? You came to see your teacher and Shidi, not to walk into a den of wolves — so why are you losing blood?”

Lu Yan seized Yin Yuheng’s wrist and probed his spiritual veins. Within moments, cold sweat had broken out on his forehead.

“…Yin Yuheng.” Lu Yan’s voice was unsteady, his eyes stricken. “You — you—”

Yin Yuheng tried to take his wrist back. Lu Yan held too tight. He failed.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Yin Yuheng said, with what patience he had left. “Let go.”

Lu Yan drew a long breath. His eyes were red. “You’re fine? Do you have any idea how serious damage to your spiritual core is? Yin Yuheng — have you lost your mind?!”

“…” Yin Yuheng blinked.

Lu Yan’s lips were shaking. He couldn’t find words for a long moment.

“What do you think you are? What do you think your future is worth? Do you know — you are the most gifted person I have ever seen. Even the highest-blooded great demons can’t compare to you.”

“You should be soaring to the heights. Shining alongside the sun and moon. You should be the most brilliant, the most luminous — walking the longest road, climbing the highest peak. How can you allow yourself to be hurt this way? How can you throw away your own future?”

“Yin Yuheng — how can you stand there and say you’re fine?!”

The torrent of words hit like a wave. Yin Yuheng was stunned into silence.

Aside from his older brother, no one had ever spoken to him like that — with this much heat, this much urgency. But listening to the grief and desperation underneath Lu Yan’s anger, he found he couldn’t summon any resentment.

Strangely, even the pain in his chest had dulled.

Behind him, snow was still falling through the Guoshi Manor’s open gate. But beyond the threshold, spring had arrived — grass growing, birds calling. The spring warmth poured into the hollow inside him and melted something frozen there.

“…I’m sorry,” Yin Yuheng said — and he genuinely didn’t know why he was apologizing. He reached up and touched Lu Yan’s face lightly. “Ah Yan. Don’t be angry.”

Lu Yan’s lips trembled again. The hatred in his eyes blazed.

“Don’t apologize,” Lu Yan said, holding him tighter. “The Guoshi Manor is what’s wrong.”

I want so badly — I want to burn it down.

Almost as though he knew what Lu Yan was thinking, Yin Yuheng said quietly: “Don’t do anything rash, Ah Yan.”

“…I know.” Lu Yan looked up at the Guoshi Manor gates through clenched teeth. “Yuheng — I’m going to work harder. One day…”

One day I’ll be strong enough to protect you. To make sure no one can hurt you again. Instead of standing here, watching you hurt, unable to do a thing.

He let the sentence go unfinished. After a silence, he said: “Yuheng — they’re not good to you at all. Will you stop coming here?”

“…” Yin Yuheng didn’t answer.

Getting no response, Lu Yan’s eyes darkened. He said, quietly resigned: “I forgot. You love Li Guanghan. Enough to give everything.”

He pressed his lips together and said no more. He picked Yin Yuheng up without a word, and smiled at himself, bitterly.

There was no logic to love. No matter how many times someone walked into a wall headfirst, a willing heart couldn’t be argued with.

Yin Yuheng loved Li Guanghan. What could he do about that?

Something strange was burning in his chest, eating at him.

If only…

If only it weren’t Li Guanghan that Yin Yuheng loved.

If only Yin Yuheng’s gaze would fall on him instead.

Was this jealousy?

Then an arm hooked around his neck. Lu Yan looked down to find Yin Yuheng staring at him, unblinking.

The look in his eyes was serious and intent — deep in a way that wasn’t his usual warmth. Meeting that gaze, Lu Yan felt, strangely, that this version of Yin Yuheng was more real.

“—Lu Yan.” Yin Yuheng said the name quietly.

“You were right. I’m genuinely in a lot of pain. When I said I was fine… of course I wasn’t.”

Lu Yan’s breath faltered.

“But it’s all right. I don’t mind.” Yin Yuheng’s voice dropped. “Only — Lu Yan. If one day you made me hurt this much…”

“That’s impossible,” Lu Yan said at once.

Yin Yuheng lowered his gaze and laughed, soft and brief.

Remember what you said today.

Li Guanghan, Zhu Anning — what are they to me, really? I’m a skilled actor playing out emotions I don’t feel. I watch their scheming with cold eyes, privately contemptuous, quietly planning.

But you, Lu Yan, are different.

Different from all of them. Your nature is nothing like the person in the plot. You keep doing things I don’t expect.

You’re a variable.

Tonight you walked through the dark toward me holding a lantern. I have kept what you said.

If the day comes when you betray me — the way the plot intends —

I will truly hate you.

…

In the darkness at a distance, Shen Liyuan watched Yin Yuheng carried away. His eyes had gone bloodshot. His nails had broken skin.

“Who was that?”

His voice was unhinged, saturated with fury.

The attendant dropped to his knees, trembling too hard to speak.

“Who is he? I want him dead. Dead!”

Shen Liyuan stared at Lu Yan’s retreating back with eyes that could devour.

The attendant couldn’t bring himself to answer, on the verge of tears.

“His name is Lu Yan.” A clear, cold voice sounded close by. Shen Liyuan spun around.

Not far away, a figure had appeared without warning — elegantly dressed, carrying the air of old money. Anyone who knew Yin Yuheng would have recognized him: Shen Fengxiu, master of Yuanming Pavilion, Yin Yuheng’s old friend.

“Cousin.” Shen Liyuan forced his murderous impulse down and addressed him.

Shen Fengxiu gave him a sidelong look, expressionless. “Having an episode again? Honestly — you’re like a mad dog.”

Shen Liyuan smiled, dark and unpleasant. “A mad dog? Better than you, Cousin — spending your days watching Yuheng from a distance and never finding the nerve to say a word.”

Shen Fengxiu clicked his tongue. “Your mind really is in the gutter. Can’t you imagine that genuine friendship exists?”

“Do you think I believe that?” Shen Liyuan said coldly.

“Don’t call me Cousin.” Shen Fengxiu’s voice went flat. “You and the whole Shen family make me sick. What are you doing in Chaoge? What are you scheming?”

“…Just visiting.” Shen Liyuan was deranged but not stupid. He knew he was no match for Shen Fengxiu and swallowed his impulse to act. He turned and snapped at the attendant: “We’re leaving.”

The attendant scrambled upright, shaking, and pushed the wheelchair away.

Shen Fengxiu watched them go and exhaled through his nose. Then he looked toward the direction Yin Yuheng and Lu Yan had gone — remembered the look on Lu Yan’s face when he’d caught Yin Yuheng, all raw distress — and an idea took quiet shape.

Shen Liyuan, heading away from the Guoshi Manor, also had an idea.

His hands were a ruin — bitten and clawed at until the blood ran freely. He rubbed the wounds, his expression cold with intent.

“Lu Yan…”

So. Another one had appeared.

No matter. He had found a way to make Li Guanghan turn away from Yin Yuheng. He had arranged for Zhu Anning to bring suffering down on him. He could find a way to remove Lu Yan too.

When betrayal comes from every direction, my Highness — will you still hold on? You’ve already been shattered by Li Guanghan. And when you discover that everything you suffered was a deliberate trap set by your own junior brother — how desperate will you feel then?

Your pain is my medicine.

Shen Liyuan smiled his sick smile. It was time, he thought, to reveal a piece of the truth.

…

Back in the palace, Lu Yan had Yin Yuheng pinned to the bed.

“Four medicines in total. One topical, three oral. The oral medicines are timed differently — I’ll remind you. The second one is bitter, so I’ve prepared some candied fruit to go with it.”

“No running or moving for the next two days. Diet must be bland — I’ve prepared medicinal congee.”

“The tea you normally drink has a cooling property. Switch it out. I’ve made nourishing herbal tea for you.”

“Stop wearing such thin layers. And most importantly — go to the Guoshi Manor less.”

“Sleep early, rise early, maintain your cultivation schedule. I’ll keep watch.”

Yin Yuheng sat on the bed, leaning against Lu Yan’s side, listening in a daze.

His robe had been half-removed to expose the wound at his chest. Lu Yan cleaned and dressed it with a furrowed brow, his lips pale with distress.

Warm candlelight. Gauze curtains. Half-bared skin. The scene should have had a certain quality to it — but Lu Yan’s detailed instructions had scrubbed the atmosphere entirely clean.

When the dressing was finally done, Yin Yuheng shifted and settled against Lu Yan’s chest, languid and amused. “Shao Jun Lu — you’re quite practiced at taking care of people. Have you had experience before?”

Lu Yan didn’t catch the implication. He settled Yin Yuheng more securely against him and said, perfectly earnest: “Stop moving. You’ll disturb the wound.”

Yin Yuheng blinked. “Shao Jun Lu… you really are good to me.”

“Good to you?” Lu Yan murmured. “You’d have to have been through a great deal of bitterness to call something this small sweet.”

It’s all Li Guanghan’s fault.

Yin Yuheng: “…”

…

Even while playing out this anguished entanglement with Li Guanghan, Yin Yuheng had not forgotten that he was a person with real responsibilities.

With the Emperor and his elder brother both in seclusion, the duties of the Crown Prince fell entirely to him.

He had been involved in governance for years. He had sorted out the court from top to bottom, established his authority, and by now no one was inclined to cause him trouble — but that was no reason to slacken. Maintaining an equilibrium was difficult. Disrupting it was easy. A single small lapse could have serious consequences. The higher the position, the more that had to be held in mind.

Yin Yuheng did not joke about matters of state.

He took his medicine and slept a few hours before dawn. Under Lu Yan’s reproachful gaze, he got up, dressed, and attended morning court as usual.

He had chosen a particularly vivid red ceremonial robe to offset his pallor.

Nothing of great consequence arose that day — except that several separate officials reported rumors that the practice of creating blood slaves had reportedly re-emerged in certain regions.

Coming from more than one source, it was not idle rumor.

Yin Yuheng had first become involved in court affairs at thirteen years old, and the case he had handled then was a blood slave operation in Yuanzhou. Everyone in the court knew it was the one matter that could make him lose composure in public. His expression darkened visibly. He ordered a thorough investigation.

With the blood slave case reopened, the news spread quickly — through the court, through the city, and even into the Guoshi Manor.

Zhu Anning lay in bed. Through the door, he could faintly hear the novices talking amongst themselves.

“Have you heard? Apparently there are reports again about people making blood slaves…”

The moment he heard those two words, Zhu Anning’s expression changed.