TSLSILMH Ch 42

Chapter 42

The Young Lord’s hair was soft and smooth as satin. Xie Shu’s fingers paused for a breath in those silky strands before continuing their gentle caress downward.

Yu Chuxi’s long lashes trembled with each motion, his breath uneven, flustered, as though unused to such touch.

Xie Shu softened his tone, murmuring to console him: “Young Lord, it’s all right. Close your eyes—you’ll sleep soon enough.”

But Yu did not answer. Instead, he shifted closer into Xie Shu’s chest before whispering muffled: “I can’t fall asleep.”

His voice dragged with lingering sweetness. Hearing it, Xie Shu’s heart melted.

He thought for a moment, then chose another approach. His voice was low, steady, coaxing: “Then close your eyes, and let me tell you a story instead.”

Sure enough, Yu did not refuse; curiosity stirred in him. “What story?”

Xie Shu paused—he had no idea what suited. Fairy tales were no use. Ghostly legends would keep him awake. So he drew from history and spun anew: “Near the end of the Eastern Han, the world fell into turmoil, warlords carved their domains, and three kingdoms arose side by side…”

His tone flowed unhurried, steady, soothing as water.

Though Yu Chuxi had never heard of such things—Eastern Han, Three Kingdoms—he still listened in earnest. Slowly his lids grew heavy, drowsiness claimed him. At last he nestled upon Xie Shu’s lap, slipping into sleep, Xie Shu’s voice blurring as only the gentle hand at his crown remained constant.

When Yu slumbered deeply, Xie Shu lifted him with care into bed. Yet he did not leave—he stayed seated by his side, gazing quietly down.

As always, Yu curled up while sleeping. Though his brow smoothed slightly, some trace of worry lingered.

Recalling that his Young Lord had fretted all day over this matter, Xie Shu felt for the first time the sharp sting of helplessness…

He thought back—it had nearly been four months since he awoke in this world. And yet in that time, he had never truly entered it.

His memories of twenty years in another life seeped still through every thought. However real this place, it was not the world familiar to him. In his heart lurked the impossible hope—that someday, just as he had somehow come here, he might return.

That very hope had kept him restrained, guarded, unwilling to reach too far into this life. But was that not escape?

This was no game with a restart. This world was solid, touchable—its people were living, breathing. And this man just now had slept upon his lap, warm and close, imprinting his presence into his very soul.

Faced with this, Xie Shu began to question himself.

Had he done well enough?

No. All his actions were colored by the thought he might one day leave. He had lived carelessly, done little beyond his interests—poetry gatherings, idle scholarship—excusing the rest as “repaying” his Young Lord. Hiding behind duty, never admitting he cared for nothing but covering his own conscience.

Even the examinations—he chased them not for ambition, but as the neat excuse of “repayment.” He had never planned further. Never thought what it meant past the test.

Had he truly no interest in name or power? Or had he simply been afraid to hope? How long could he keep up such denial?

He lowered his gaze. Before him, the Young Lord lay in peaceful slumber, lovely yet still burdened.

And suddenly Xie Shu wondered—if the day came that he truly left this world… could he really abandon him?

A faint sound came at the door—Xie Shu stilled, then rose, careful not to wake him.

After hearing the report, his eyes darkened.

So the coming months would bring the Emperor’s southern tour. Hence Liu Gonggong had come to Jiangnan by imperial decree.

Yet such a tour was never simple. The retinue alone would demand palaces along the route, no mere officials’ manors. Construction on that scale meant staggering expense. A frugal sovereign might bear it himself, or treasury funds from the Inner Palace might suffice—but this emperor… was not such a man.

No, he would send eunuchs to wring the wealth instead from Jiangnan’s merchants.

And now Liu Qiang targeted the Yu family? There was deeper cause.

This was no imperial whim. The Emperor might command the tour, but the singling out of Yu—this came from elsewhere. Who?

The Gu family leapt to mind.

For Liu Qiang had acted under Gu Zhong’s summons. Surely Gu Zhong knew. And their avoidance after? Suspect indeed.

Xie Shu could not yet see why. But he would find out. Perhaps even through Gu Yuanke himself. But first—he would ask his teacher’s counsel. Jiang Hong would know where the court winds blew.

Yet it was too late at night. He must wait till morning.

And beside that—he had promised to wake his Young Lord if news arrived. How could he leave him to wake alone?

He returned, sat at his bedside, smiling faintly to see him still asleep, then lay down quietly at the edge, resting clothed above the covers.

In morning light, he woke to warmth pressed close. At some point Yu had shifted against him, face nestled against his arm, sweet breath brushing his sleeve.

Xie Shu drew a deep breath. He did not wish to wake him—but gently touched his chin to withdraw.

Yet when his fingers brushed his cheek, smooth as frost-glass, Yu stirred—lashes fluttered, lips brushing faintly at his knuckles before clarity dawned.

Embarrassment flickered as he realized—but Xie Shu only withdrew his hand, eyes calm, and after a moment simply began to tell what news had come.

Yu’s face grew grave—southern tour! He knew at once the weight.

For in the face of the Throne, what could merchants do?

Then, warm arms enfolded him.

Xie Shu embraced him firmly, pressing his chin to the crown of his head, voice steady as stone: “Do not fear. Liu may wield imperial orders, but this matter is no Emperor’s whim. He serves another hand.

See how he acted—not striking openly, but through insinuation. That proves the Yu family is not his true prey. There is still space to maneuver. What we must learn is—whose design lies behind it.

So—do not move hastily. Do not meet him yet. He is but the visible piece, not the player. This ties to the tour—teacher will know. I’ll ask him soon. All will be answered.”

Yu nodded softly. Against his chest, he heard the heartbeat, steady and strong, solid as bedrock. Fear ebbed away.

For a time, he simply held him close. Yet soon he realized the intimacy of their posture—seated together on the couch, face to face, chests pressed, clad only in night-robes, warmth flooding between them.

His body weakened, breath tightening. He looked up at Xie Shu.

And Xie Shu, too, looked down. Breath met breath, eyes caught each other.

Still holding him close, Xie Shu’s hands quivered faintly, upon thin silk all but transparent. The faint scent risen from his body crept into his palms, shaking them.

“Xie Shu…”

Yu Chuxi saw the clarity in his eyes blur to shadow, and in their reflection saw his own face reddened. His lips parted slightly, breath ragged, unsteady.

Footnotes

1. 東漢 / 三國 (Eastern Han / Three Kingdoms) – Historical Chinese periods (2nd-3rd century). Reference used here as storytelling by Xie Shu, though in-novel characters may not know these histories. 
2. 內務府 (Imperial Household Department) – Palace office managing resources, finances, and supplies of the Imperial Court, often overseen by powerful eunuchs. 
3. 知貢舉 (Zhigongju) – Title for the presiding examiner of the metropolitan exam, essentially supreme judge of candidates’ fates, often revered as “seat master” by graduates.