Chapter 40: Chapter 39. Two places, three people.

Chapter 39.

Xue Shu returned to his room, slipping the jade ring from beneath his robes.

The cool jade had nestled against his skin, rolling down the curve of his chest and catching at the taut belt around his waist. By the time he held it in his palm, the once-cold stone had warmed, stealing a hint of his body’s heat. Though he knew it was foolish to tie such a thing to Yin Chengyu, the thought of those pale, jade-like hands and those deep, captivating eyes stirred something raw and uncontrollable within him.

Lowering his head, Xue Shu brushed his lips lightly against the jade.

The surface was smooth and polished, faintly warm—a texture reminiscent of tender skin. Closing his eyes, he could only picture that calm, aloof face. Sometimes cold and untouchable, other times intimate and maddeningly ambiguous, it drew him in like quicksand. That impenetrable demeanor hinted at hidden depths, and Xue Shu’s chest tightened with longing.

“Your Highness...” he murmured, voice thick with a desire that clawed at his ribs, threatening to erupt.

It was unbearable—both the thrill and the torment of wanting, the dark tangle of craving and yearning growing stronger with every breath. He wanted to close the distance, to claim what was just out of reach. To possess him completely.

That night, he strung the jade ring onto a red thread and hung it around his neck, letting it rest over his heart.

It was unlike him to wear any adornment, and the hard touch of the jade against his chest felt foreign. Yet this unfamiliar sensation also served as a constant reminder: the way the prince treated him was different—distinctly, maddeningly different.

Within that discomfort, a quiet joy blossomed, sly and persistent.

He slept only as dawn approached, but his dreams were uncharacteristically serene, if not unsettlingly vivid.

In his dreams, Yin Chengyu was stripped of his princely splendor. Gone was the regal heir of the Yan dynasty; he was thin, pale, clothed in coarse fabric. Yet, even in such a wretched state, his upturned phoenix eyes still burned with innate pride, defiant and unyielding.

Xue Shu, on the other hand, was draped in finery, standing beside the Emperor of Longfeng. His embroidered robes spoke of power and status. He looked down at the figure kneeling amidst the masses, bowing low and calling out, “Long live the emperor (Kouhu Wansui).”

———TN:

口呼万岁 (kǒuhū wànsuì) is a Chinese phrase that literally translates to "to shout 'ten thousand years'". Historically, this phrase was primarily used in the context of Imperial China to express loyalty and reverence for the emperor.

When subjects or officials would shout "万岁" (wànsuì), they were wishing for the emperor to live for ten thousand years, essentially praying for his long and prosperous reign.

———

The prince’s frail form was swathed in oversized, ill-fitting garments that only accentuated his stark fragility. Stray strands of hair brushed his face, half-hidden by the swirling snow, masking his expression. Yet when his gaze flicked upward, something dark and unfathomable flickered in those onyx eyes.

That single glance sent Xue Shu’s heart into a wild, feverish rhythm, his blood surging hot through his veins. But just as quickly, Yin Chengyu looked away, as if that fleeting gaze was meaningless, a mere accident.

The disappointment gnawed at Xue Shu, even as an undercurrent of excitement simmered beneath his restraint.

He couldn’t stop himself. He had to get closer, to close the unbearable distance.

In the shadowed stillness of an empty hall, he sought him out. It was almost as if Yin Chengyu had been waiting.

He had changed into something more presentable, though his modest attire still betrayed his downfall—no longer the golden heir to the Yan throne, but a man brought low, every thread whispering his despair.

In contrast, Xue Shu’s crimson robes gleamed with wealth and dominance, making Yin Chengyu’s plight even starker. They stood face to face at last, their roles reversed.

The prince, once exalted, was now discarded and forgotten.

The eunuch, once scorned, had clawed his way to power, his name whispered with both fear and loathing. He was the shadowy figure who bent kingdoms, a ruthless tyrant destined for a bloody end.

And yet, in this moment, none of that mattered. Xue Shu had fought and schemed, endured endless humiliation and pain, all to stand before him again. But even now, they were separated by an invisible chasm—unbridgeable, maddening.

When Yin Chengyu’s eyes fell on him, they held no recognition. No warmth. No hatred.

To him, Xue Shu was nothing but a tool—a wicked blade to be wielded, a means to an end.

“Help me reclaim my place in court,” the prince said, his voice unwavering, his tone stark with desperation. “Name your price, and I’ll pay it.”

That quiet, resolute gaze pierced Xue Shu’s chest like a dagger.

Fury surged within him, a storm of resentment and longing so violent he could barely contain it.

Yet, how could he hurt him?

He let out a soft, mocking laugh, stepping closer. “Anything I ask?”

Yin Chengyu hesitated, then nodded, unleashing the beast Xue Shu had long kept caged.

The prince’s agreement shattered the chains of restraint. A savage hunger roared free, and Xue Shu sank his teeth into the offer.

His lips marked that pale neck, the crimson imprint a binding vow.

From then on, Xue Shu plunged willingly into the abyss with him, becoming the sharpest blade in his hands. He destroyed everything in their path, embracing ruin for the faintest trace of affection.

Bound by blood and desperation, they drowned together in the mire. For him, Xue Shu would give everything, even as he burned to ashes.

……

When Xue Shu woke up, daylight was already pouring in from outside.

His fingers instinctively reached for the jade ring pressed against his chest, his breathing rough and uneven. The vividness of the dream lingered, its raw intensity gripping him. A storm of savage and unhinged emotions had overtaken him in that dream—urges to destroy, to drag Yin Chengyu down into the depths of madness with him.

Even now, back in reality, he couldn’t shake the vividness of it, the way it clawed at him from within. He shuddered at the thought of someone so proud, so noble, being reduced to such a pitiful state—wings clipped, cast into the mire. The mere idea of it churned his stomach.

He clenched the jade ring tightly, holding onto it as if it were the only thing anchoring him. The cold surface warmed against his palm, its chill replaced by the faint heat of his grasp. Only then did the chaos in his heart begin to settle. With a long, heavy exhale, he carefully returned the ring to its place.

But the shadow of the dream lingered. Every time his mind conjured the solitary figure from it, a dark rage bubbled to the surface, impossible to suppress.

He couldn’t bear the thought of the purest snow being tainted. Not even if the one doing the tainting was himself.

*

By the time Xue Shu had composed himself and gone looking for Yin Chengyu, he discovered the man had already left the city.

Thanks to Wen Ling’s mediation, the sick from the temple had been properly relocated to the leprosarium that morning. Court physicians and other doctors were sent there to treat them. Meanwhile, relief efforts at the city gates had kicked off in earnest.

Tents had been set up to provide food and announce job postings. Able-bodied people could earn wages by helping to build the leprosarium or the charity clinic outside the city. Along with daily meals, each worker received ten coins as compensation.

When Xue Shu arrived, a long line of civilians was already snaking through the area.

At the front, soldiers handed out cloth masks to anyone who joined the line, ensuring everyone covered their noses and mouths. Nearby, a team of doctors conducted health screenings. Those declared healthy could proceed to collect food—two steamed buns and a bowl of vegetable porridge.

The sick were divided into two categories: those with contagious illnesses and those without. The infected were sent to the leprosarium for isolation and treatment, while others were directed to the charity clinic to receive medicine. Once they recovered, they were free to leave.

By noon, more and more people had gathered at the gates, drawn by word of mouth. Some braved the lines for food and treatment, while others hovered at a distance, hesitating.

To reassure the nervous, Yin Chengyu had instructed a loud-voiced soldier to make repeated announcements: the corrupt official Zhou Weishan had been arrested, and the Crown Prince himself had come to oversee disaster relief. No one would be burned alive under false pretenses anymore.

Standing on the city wall, Yin Chengyu surveyed the orderly scene below. A faint smile played on his lips as he turned to Jing Weishan, the provincial governor by his side. “Relief efforts here in the capital have proven effective. Going forward, the other prefectures can follow Taiyuan’s example. As long as the number of infected doesn’t rise, and we recruit enough skilled physicians, it’s only a matter of time before we find a cure. Shanxi’s crisis can be resolved.”

Jing Weishan nodded fervently, his heart stirred by the sight. In all his years as governor, he’d accomplished little. Under the shadow of the powerful Zhou Weishan, he’d resigned himself to mediocrity, avoiding trouble and muddling through.

But working under the Crown Prince these past days had ignited something in him. The prince was methodical and fair, rewarding merit and punishing failure. Following the prince’s plans step by step, Jing Weishan had seen the results with his own eyes. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of purpose, a flicker of pride.

When he’d first entered officialdom, hadn’t he dreamed of serving the court and helping the people?

Those ambitions had cooled over the years, buried beneath disillusionment. But now, under the prince’s command, they burned anew.

At forty-six, he still had twenty-four years before retirement. He might not aspire to the inner council or a noble title, but diligent service could still see him rise.

With renewed determination, Jing Weishan excused himself to issue orders to the surrounding prefectures.

Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu turned his gaze back to the city gates, his hands clasped behind him. Spotting Xue Shu approaching, he gave a small nod. “Rested?”

Xue Shu had been running himself ragged for days, juggling his duties and personally attending to Yin Chengyu. Today, he hadn’t shown up early, and Yin Chengyu hadn’t sent for him, giving him a chance to recover.

But Xue Shu was still haunted by the dream, his eyes lingering on Yin Chengyu as if searching for differences between the man in reality and the one in his mind. No matter how he looked, the real Yin Chengyu was the one who captivated him.

A noble prince of Yan, his presence overshadowed the clouds themselves.

The cold moon belonged in the sky, its light meant to pierce the darkest nights.

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. I’m well rested,” Xue Shu replied, lowering his gaze.

“Good. Come with me to the government office. There’s urgent news from Datong,” Yin Chengyu said, brushing past him. For a fleeting moment, the wide sleeve of his robe brushed against Xue Shu’s. Their garments tangled briefly before separating.

Xue Shu froze, staring after him, before quickly following.

At the office, a messenger awaited them, his face pale with fear.

“What happened?”

Yin Chengyu tore open the letter, his expression darkening as he read. By the time he finished, his voice was ice-cold, his tone laced with fury. “Outrageous!”

Xue Shu picked up the letter and scanned its contents, his face hardening. “I’ll gather men to pursue them immediately. We can’t let these infected escape to other regions.”

The letter was from the governor of Datong, reporting a crisis. Rumors had spread that the Crown Prince intended to seal off Shanxi and massacre its population to contain the plague. In their panic, refugees had broken through the soldiers’ defenses and fled toward neighboring provinces, including Shaanxi and Xuanzhou—taking the infection with them.

———Author’s Note:

Puppy Xue Shu: I would never do what I dreamed of to His Highness.

Big Dog Yin Chengyu: Pathetic.