Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Out of reach.

Chapter 4.

Yin Chengyu averted his eyes, deliberately dodging his gaze.

In his past life, he’d always found Xue Shu’s stare far too deep, too heavy—laden with murky emotions he couldn’t decipher. Every time those eyes pinned him down, it was as if he owed the man a debt from eight lifetimes ago.

Annoying.

Now, though? Xue Shu’s gaze was a lot more straightforward, stripped of all that brooding sentiment. It practically screamed: Reward me.

For this little bit of effort? Bold of him to even ask.

Yin Chengyu sneered inwardly and shifted his attention to the group of people hurriedly approaching in the distance.

At last, that dusty old priest, Wangchen, had arrived.

Clad in ceremonial robes and gripping a peachwood sword, he looked the part of an enlightened master.

"Where is the demon fox? I’ve come to—"

His grand declaration cut off midway as his eyes landed on the fox’s lifeless body. His jaw dropped, and his expression turned downright ridiculous.

Yin Chengyu glanced at him, then let his gaze slide toward Yin Chengjing, who stood among the crowd with a darkened expression. A flicker of amusement tugged at the corner of his lips.

Before anyone could recover, Yin Chengyu’s indifferent mask morphed into one of earnest concern. He strode quickly toward the emperor, who was still slumped on the ground, and helped him up with impeccable decorum.

Turning to the dumbstruck priest, his tone was gentle yet firm: “The demon fox has already been dealt with. No need to trouble yourself further, Daoist.”

Without missing a beat, he looked to the eunuch beside him. “High Eunuch Gao, have the emperor’s palanquin brought here. Commander Gong, send your men to search the area thoroughly. I suspect there’s more to this than meets the eye—don’t let any troublemakers slip away.”

The orders rolled out smoothly, his composure unshaken, every word steeped in calm authority. The filial act was flawless, enough to rouse the sluggish crowd into action.

The imperial guards scattered, their search meticulous. Court officials, disheveled and desperate to curry favor, scrambled forward to fuss over the emperor’s well-being, pledging their loyalty with fervent voices.

In the center of it all, the emperor’s face was an unsettling mix of anger and humiliation. He’d nearly been attacked, humiliated before his court—and while his nerves were still frayed, he wasn’t about to leave without reclaiming some dignity.

“Is the demon fox truly dead?” The emperor straightened, trying to project authority as he stepped toward the carcass.

But the moment he caught sight of the blood-soaked scene, his steps faltered. He hesitated, stopping just shy of the body, glaring down at it as if the gore alone had insulted him.

“It is, Your Majesty,” Xue Shu’s calm voice broke the silence.

The crowd’s attention shifted toward him, and the emperor followed suit, his gaze narrowing on the man’s bloodied attire.

“You’re with the Eastern Depot?” the emperor asked offhandedly. “For slaying the fox and protecting the throne, you deserve a reward.”

The head of the Eastern Depot, Gao Yuan, perked up instantly, ready to claim credit.

But before he could speak, Xue Shu replied, unyielding and composed: “Your Majesty, I serve the Western Depot. Protecting you is my duty—it is no cause for reward.”

He paused, as if deliberating, then added, “Besides… it wasn’t a demon fox. Just a wild wolf.”

Gao Yuan’s smile froze. He stared at Xue Shu, the realization hitting him like a blow.

The Western Depot, suppressed by the Eastern Depot for years, hadn’t produced anyone noteworthy in ages. Yet here was this blood-soaked enigma, radiating presence.

“A wild wolf?”

The emperor’s face twisted in disbelief as he eyed the carcass.

The creature was far larger than any ordinary fox—bigger even than most wolves. Its features were bizarre, with crimson eyes glaring lifelessly and grotesque fangs jutting beyond its lips. Its warped, monstrous form defied easy categorization.

It didn’t look like a fox. But it sure as hell didn’t look like a wolf either.

Only a legendary demon fox could grow into something this grotesque.

“The green glow on this fox is gone,” Yin Chengyu said sharply, stepping forward at just the right moment. He crouched down, swept his hand over the corpse, and grinned when he saw the red stain on his fingertips. Spreading his palm to show everyone, he sneered, “This red? It’s painted on.”

His palm bore smudges of uneven red dye.

Yin Chengyu brought his hand closer to his nose, sniffed once, and declared with certainty, “Ochre. As for that red mist and green ghost fire earlier, I’ve seen similar tricks in the markets.”

“Someone actually dared to play tricks in my palace!” Emperor Longfeng thundered, his eyes narrowing dangerously as they fixed on Commander Gong Hongfei of the Jinyiwei. “Are the Imperial Guards a bunch of useless fools? How did this go unnoticed?”

“Sire, please calm your anger!” Gong Hongfei paled, cursing his luck as the emperor’s fury turned his way. Bowing low, he hastened to confess.

Who could have imagined someone would have the audacity to stage such a farce in the forbidden palace?

“Father, please temper your wrath. This matter likely cannot be pinned entirely on Commander Gong.” Yin Chengyu wiped his fingers clean with a deliberate slowness, then delivered his words like a blade wrapped in silk. “I’ve heard that during Grandfather’s reign, a traitor once used a similar sleight of hand to infiltrate the palace and attempt an assassination. Could it be that the schemer behind this fox business is…a remnant of those rebels from Emperor Xiaozong’s era?”

His voice carried an air of concern. “Who would have thought, after all these years, that these scoundrels still aren’t wiped out?”

Emperor Xiaozong, Yin Chengyu’s grandfather and Longfeng Emperor’s father, had been a tyrant. His reign was marked by depravity, cruelty toward court officials, and immense suffering for the common folk. During those years, courageous vigilantes disguised as performers had infiltrated the palace in an attempt to assassinate him.

The attempt had failed, of course. Xiaozong’s brutality was unfazed, but the mention of that old tale now struck a nerve with Longfeng Emperor.

Xiaozong’s reign had been plagued by countless assassination attempts, each a thorn in the royal court’s pride. The government labeled the assassins as traitorous rebels, yet among the people, they were lauded as righteous heroes. Secret shrines honored them, and more continued to rise in their cause. Peace only returned after Xiaozong’s death, when Longfeng ascended the throne and, heeding Yu Huaian’s advice, implemented policies to win the people’s trust.

Now, Yin Chengyu deliberately resurrected those bitter memories, pointing the blame at remnants of Xiaozong’s enemies. A cowardly man by nature, Longfeng Emperor would not let this matter rest easily.

The emperor’s expression shifted, shock flashing across his face. “Investigate! Find whoever orchestrated this and bring them to me!”

His gaze swept past Gong Hongfei and Gao Yuan before finally settling on Xue Shu. Weighing his options, he barked, “The matter is yours, West Bureau. Ten days—bring me their heads!”

Xue Shu knelt and accepted the decree.

Gong Hongfei and Gao Yuan’s faces darkened, but neither dared to object.

Something was clear—by bypassing both the Jinyiwei and the Eastern Bureau to entrust the investigation to an insignificant West Bureau agent, the emperor had shown his distrust of them all.

Drained from his rage, Longfeng Emperor ordered his sedan chair and retreated to Qianqing Palace, leaving the court ministers to scatter uneasily.

*

The Crown Prince, Yin Chengyu, stayed until the end before finally departing.

It was well past midnight, the snow falling steadily again as Yin Chengyu tightened his cloak against the cold.

Zheng Duobao noticed and stepped forward, shielding him from the wind. “Your Highness, should we wait here while I fetch your sedan chair?”

“It’s only a few steps,” Yin Chengyu replied, his breath puffing in the frigid air.

The journey from the Imperial Hall to Cixiang Palace wasn’t far; taking a shortcut through Zhongzuo Gate would get them there in no time.

The wind and snow grew fiercer, prompting Yin Chengyu to quicken his pace. As they neared the gate, a figure loomed in the shadows.

Startled, Zheng Duobao leapt to shield the prince, barking, “Who goes there?”

The figure didn’t answer. Zheng Duobao was about to order Zhao Lin to investigate when Yin Chengyu’s voice cut through the tension. “Stand down. It’s no assassin.”

He stepped forward, peering through the snowstorm. “Xue Shu? Why are you lingering here instead of tending to your injuries?”

His tone grew sharp, irritation creeping in.

Hearing his name, Xue Shu finally moved, stepping forward with measured steps. He stopped before the prince and, bowing low, murmured, “Your Highness.”

Blood smeared across his face hadn’t been wiped clean, and the gash on his left arm was still untreated. He looked like a mess—one hell of a mess—but those pitch-black eyes of his burned bright, sharp and dangerous, like a lone wolf on the hunt under the cover of night. The kind of wild, untamed energy that left you on edge.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze flicked over his injuries, brow furrowing briefly before he cut straight to the point. "What is it?"

"I’ve done everything you asked, Your Highness." His eyes locked on Yin Chengyu’s, steady and unyielding. He licked his dry lips, every ounce of his intention plain as day on his face.

No one had ever dared corner Yin Chengyu for a reward before. Least of all Xue Shu.

The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once, leaving him bemused.

Who was Xue Shu?

The man who commanded tens of thousands of the Imperial Guard, whose network of spies reached every corner of the empire. A man so powerful that even the emperor himself had to tread lightly around him. A man who didn’t ask for things—he took them.

Power, position... even him.

And yet here he was, braving the storm, standing like a damn statue at the Zhongzuo Gate for who knows how long, all just to claim a reward.

The realization amused Yin Chengyu far more than it should have. His expression softened, a smile ghosting over his lips.

"You did well this time. What do you want as a reward? I'll see what I can do."

"I don’t want to stay in the Western Bureau anymore. I want to serve you directly." Xue Shu’s eyes bore into his, unflinching, desire smoldering in their depths.

It wasn’t lust—not exactly—but it was enough to rile him up all the same.

This audacious bastard!

He wasn’t someone you could afford to indulge.

Yin Chengyu’s face chilled in an instant. He brushed past Xue Shu with a sharp flick of his sleeve, his voice biting, carried away by the wind and snow. "Not a chance."

Stay in the Western Bureau where you belong. Do your job. That’s all you’ll ever get from me.

Yin Chengyu’s figure soon disappeared into the storm.

Xue Shu stood rooted in place for a long moment before finally heading back to the Western Bureau.

That day, he was lauded for his service and earned the emperor’s favor. The scorn and ridicule he’d endured before vanished, replaced by respect. Even his shared sleeping quarters were upgraded to a private room.

He refused his colleagues’ offers to fetch a physician for his injuries, instead taking some medicine and retreating alone.

The gash on his arm was deep, filled with grime and filth from that beast’s claws. Cleaning it would hurt like hell, but pain was an old friend.

Expressionless, Xue Shu poured burning liquor over the wound again and again, scrubbing it clean until fresh, bright blood flowed. Only then did he dress the injury and wrap it tightly.

Afterward, he washed up and changed into fresh clothes. From a small box, he pulled out a plain white handkerchief, turning it over in his hands.

It was Yin Chengyu’s, still stained with faint red marks. He’d tossed it aside after using it, leaving it for a eunuch to deal with, but Xue Shu had snatched it up without thinking.

His fingers grazed the soft fabric as he recalled the way Yin Chengyu had used it to wipe his hands—those pale, slender fingers, every joint distinct, flawless like the finest jade. Cold and untouchable, just like their owner, but with a faint flush at the tips that was oddly alluring.

Soft.

Xue Shu pressed his thumb against the cloth, his thoughts wandering.

Were His Highness’s hands as soft as this handkerchief?

*

Back at the Ciqing Palace, Yin Chengyu still simmered with irritation.

He’d always known Xue Shu was audacious, but to be this shameless, even under such circumstances?

If it weren’t for the man’s recent merits and injuries, he’d have had him dragged out and flogged on the spot.

Zheng Duobao entered, overseeing the preparation of a hot bath. Noticing Yin Chengyu’s sour mood, he immediately guessed the source. Though he couldn’t fathom why His Highness, usually so composed, seemed so fixated on Xue Shu, it didn’t stop him from offering a suggestion. "Xue Shu doesn’t seem to understand his place. Would you like me to come up with an excuse to punish him lightly?"

From Zheng Duobao’s perspective, Xue Shu’s ambition to serve His Highness directly wasn’t exactly a bad call. But if it annoyed Yin Chengyu, then the man was clearly in the wrong.

Yin Chengyu hesitated.

That damn beast had some strength. Xue Shu’s injury had looked serious. And while he was still fuming, he knew his anger wasn’t really about this lifetime—it was the grudge from the last one that still gnawed at him.

This Xue Shu hadn’t done anything wrong. When he’d asked to serve by his side, there hadn’t even been a hint of ulterior motive.

"Forget it," Yin Chengyu sighed. "He did earn his reward. Go to the Imperial Physician tomorrow morning and have them check on him. Make sure his wounds don’t fester—we’ll need him in the future."

Zheng Duobao acknowledged the order with a bow, but inwardly, he couldn’t help thinking that His Highness had never been this unpredictable before.

———Author's Note:

Xue Shu: I’m hurt. Only a kiss from His Highness can heal me.

Yin Chengyu: ?

Yin Chengyu: Get lost.