BEGW C102

Chapter 102

Unlike Zhuang Yue, who still carried the layered identity of a subject, Princess Lianyi standing before them was a genuine elder.

The moment her words fell, the air around them seemed to freeze.

The rear hall of Liuyun Palace grew so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Jiang Yuxun subconsciously loosened his grip, and the little cat in his arms immediately leapt out.

Its high-curving tail brushed up Jiang Yuxun’s sleeve at the same time, revealing a pale wrist—and the faint reddish marks left by fingers around it.

And that wasn’t all…

Summer garments were already thin to begin with. After the earlier commotion while holding the cat, Jiang Yuxun’s collar had loosened without him noticing.

It happened to expose a stretch of neck and collarbone mottled with red marks.

Jiang Yuxun’s complexion was naturally fair and especially prone to leaving traces. Marks left deliberately or unintentionally over several days had all accumulated together—so conspicuous that they were impossible to ignore.

…He wasn’t even given the slightest room to argue.

Following Ying Changchuan’s words, Princess Lianyi’s gaze slid involuntarily from Jiang Yuxun’s neck down to his wrist.

When she saw those marks, she nearly dropped the item she was holding.

“Meow—”

The little cat, completely unaware of what was happening, rubbed past Princess Lianyi’s legs while meowing.

Everyone’s eyes shifted to it at once. Jiang Yuxun’s heart tightened—he immediately seized the moment when Ying Changchuan’s attention wavered, broke free of his hold, and stood up straight as fast as he could to tidy his clothes.

“This minister, Jiang Yuxun, greets Her Highness the Princess.”

Steel-nerved as he tried to be, Jiang Yuxun bowed stiffly toward Princess Lianyi by the doorway.

His clear yet slightly strained voice finally broke the silence in the hall.

Princess Lianyi had weathered many storms in her life. The instant Jiang Yuxun spoke, she recovered herself and nodded in return.

Ying Changchuan, meanwhile, flicked his sleeve as if nothing had happened and smiled as he asked, “What brings the Princess here today?”

As he spoke, he nodded toward Jiang Yuxun, signaling him to withdraw for the moment.

Though Jiang Yuxun managed to remain composed on the surface, inside he was mortified beyond measure and did not want to stay a single second longer.

The moment Ying Changchuan nodded, Jiang Yuxun hurried out of the hall as if granted a reprieve—

—and scooped up the cat that was still licking its fur on the floor.

No matter what he did next time, he had to remember to close the door!

—Jiang Yuxun clenched his fist silently and swore to himself.

In the side hall of Liuyun Palace, just one wall away.

The sun sank bit by bit, and the warm glow of palace lamps was cut into fragments by the lattice windows as it spilled inside.

Although Jiang Yuxun no longer lived in the side hall, the maids and eunuchs still cleaned it daily. Even tea was always kept ready.

The energetic cat hopped from the bed onto the bed curtains. Jiang Yuxun reached out to grab it just as the side hall door was slowly pushed open.

The emperor, dressed in black, stepped inside.

“Princess Lianyi has left?” Jiang Yuxun asked after recognizing him, holding the cat while cautiously glancing behind Ying Changchuan.

“Yes,” Ying Changchuan replied with a smile as he closed the door and lit the bronze lamp. “I sent her back to rest.”

As he spoke, he set the item Princess Lianyi had brought onto the table.

“Phew…” Now that only the two of them remained, Jiang Yuxun finally let out a long breath.

After sitting in the dim room for so long, he rubbed his eyes. Once he adjusted to the light, he looked up at Ying Changchuan and spoke frankly:

“Your Majesty knew Princess Lianyi was coming, didn’t you?”

Having been alone for a while, Jiang Yuxun had regained his composure.

—Ying Changchuan’s hearing was exceptional. With how little noise there had been earlier, how could he not have heard Princess Lianyi’s footsteps?

The emperor lifted an eyebrow slightly and did not deny it. “Princess Lianyi practiced martial arts when she was young; her footsteps are light. I only noticed her when she reached the hall entrance.”

He hadn’t known early that she would come—but he had indeed chosen not to avoid her.

Jiang Yuxun still felt unsettled after being startled so badly. Seeing how open Ying Changchuan appeared, he paused before asking, “Then why didn’t Your Majesty say anything?”

A single bronze lamp could not fully illuminate the side hall.

The flickering yellow candlelight dulled the edge of his words.

Ying Changchuan didn’t answer directly. Instead, he took Jiang Yuxun’s hand and led him to sit at the table.

The emperor’s movements were so careful that they made Jiang Yuxun feel awkward instead.

From his sleeve, Ying Changchuan took out a small bottle of medicated wine. He lowered his gaze to Jiang Yuxun’s wrist and gently massaged the area with fingers dipped in the liquid.

Unlike Ying Changchuan, who was earnestly working to reduce bruising, Jiang Yuxun immediately looked away.

—This was the mark left the day Ying Changchuan had guided his hand in the carriage to do… that.

His skin was simply too easy to mark.

Every time Jiang Yuxun saw it, memories of that absurd day resurfaced.

As Ying Changchuan continued his movements, he spoke casually, “Axun, I want my family to know about our relationship.”

This was the emperor’s private desire.

He did not want Jiang Yuxun’s name to be tainted by any possible stain, and thus could not proclaim their relationship to the world. But he still wished for his blood relatives to know how Jiang Yuxun was different to him.

Even—childishly—to show off that he had found the best person in the world.

Ying Changchuan’s tone remained light, and he never even looked up.

Yet Jiang Yuxun sensed the trace of loneliness hidden deep in his heart from the subtle slowing of his fingers.

After those words, the side hall fell quiet.

The scent of the medicated wine spread from Jiang Yuxun’s wrist, mingling with dragon-salve incense and wrapping around him.

All his earlier unease and tension vanished in an instant.

After a brief pause, Jiang Yuxun lifted his other hand and gently patted the back of Ying Changchuan’s hand.

An awkward sort of comfort.

When Princess Lianyi left Zhaodu, Ying Changchuan had still been a child.

He no longer remembered his aunt’s appearance clearly—but he knew she was now his only family.

…And today, Ying Changchuan had wanted that sole family member to know about him and Jiang Yuxun.

A shadow of osmanthus fell through the slightly open window onto the table, illuminating Jiang Yuxun’s wrist slick with medicine, shimmering like moonlight.

He lowered his gaze to his hand, then smiled faintly and said with quiet wistfulness, “If it were possible, I’d also want you to meet my parents…”

Used to speaking freely in front of Ying Changchuan, Jiang Yuxun only realized afterward that his words were inappropriate.

His parents still lived in the modern world, while the original owner’s family was long gone.

Realizing this, he hurriedly added, “I didn’t mean to curse you!”

As he spoke, he looked up at Ying Changchuan.

His movement was a little too large, and the silver hairpin at his crown slipped crooked.

Ying Changchuan chuckled softly. He casually pulled the jade hairpin free, letting Jiang Yuxun’s dark hair spill over his shoulders, and redirected the conversation:

“Are you still upset now, my dear minister?”

“Ahem… no,” Jiang Yuxun replied, averting his gaze.

“You forgive me?” Ying Changchuan asked, gently stroking his hair.

“…I forgive you.”

Seriously—why did Ying Changchuan talk so much?

Unwilling to let this childish exchange continue, Jiang Yuxun turned to retrieve his hairpin and glanced at the table instead—the gift Princess Lianyi had brought was still there.

“What did the Princess give you? Have you looked at it yet?” Jiang Yuxun cleared his throat as he picked it up.

“It’s a map,” Ying Changchuan finally sat upright. He untied the silk ribbon around the scroll and whispered near Jiang Yuxun’s ear, “A map of the Western Regions.”

“…The Western Regions?” Jiang Yuxun slowly unfurled the scroll.

Moonlight poured down onto the three-chi-long map, illuminating mountains, rivers, seas, grasslands, and deserts within its borders.

A world both unfamiliar and familiar appeared before his eyes in an instant.

Cartography in this era was still crude, and terrain measured by footsteps was far from precise.

Yet Jiang Yuxun recognized it immediately—

“This is the world west of Qiaoluo and the other states. At the top is Xiaobei Cliff,” he murmured.

Seeing him identify it at a glance, surprise flickered in Ying Changchuan’s eyes.

He nodded. “A hostage from the Western Regions presented this map to the Rou royal court. It later came into Princess Lianyi’s hands.”

Jiang Yuxun’s eyes lit up bit by bit, his heart pounding.

“Your Majesty—wait for me a moment!” Before Ying Changchuan could finish speaking, Jiang Yuxun suddenly stood and hurried out of the hall.

He was rarely this impatient.

Moments later, a soft creak echoed in the corridor.

Jiang Yuxun opened the door to the rear hall of Liuyun Palace and soon returned in a rush, carrying something.

…It was the map Ying Changchuan had drawn by hand.

This map, centered on Zhaodu, had now been completely filled in.

North to Xiaobei Cliff and the vast ice plains below it; east to the boundless sea; south to Haifeng.

The world known to the Zhou people had slowly unfolded before Jiang Yuxun.

A gust of wind swept through Xianyou Palace.

The night breeze rustled the bamboo grove outside like waves crashing against Liuyun Hall.

“This map is too large.” With that, Jiang Yuxun spread it directly across the floor.

He gazed at it deeply, then suddenly knelt and carefully placed Princess Lianyi’s map beside it.

Though the scales differed, the two maps miraculously joined at one point!

Jiang Yuxun’s breath caught.

“That’s the Dingwumu Grasslands,” Ying Changchuan said, having appeared behind him at some point.

—As if destined.

The center point of both maps was the Dingwumu Grasslands.

Jiang Yuxun picked up the candlestick.

“…Xiaobei Cliff, Yuanfu Ridge, Miluan-Chi River.” His fingers traced the map as he softly read the names, familiar and unfamiliar alike.

Only after speaking did he realize his voice was trembling.

The continent where Zhou lay was high in the center, low at the edges.

Yuanfu Ridge and the Miluan-Chi River below it split the landmass into east and west.

They had once been two isolated worlds.

Now, at last, they met upon the map—bowing to one another across tens of thousands of li.

The wind in Xianyou Palace grew stronger, rattling doors and windows.

After the names were spoken, neither Jiang Yuxun nor Ying Changchuan said another word.

Moonlight illuminated their eyes.

Their gazes were no longer as calm as before.

The territory of Great Zhou had reached the greatest extent possible in this era.

Soldiers need not march west any longer—but merchants could.

In the future, tea, ceramics, and silk would surely cross plateaus and mountains as recorded in history, traveling to another world entirely.

Jiang Yuxun’s heart raced.

He could even sense that Ying Changchuan’s emotions were far from calm.

“Clang—”

The night wind suddenly picked up, slamming the wooden window hard against its frame.

From not far away came the sound of rain, and the air filled with the fresh, earthy scent of damp soil.

“…It looks like it’s about to rain,” Jiang Yuxun said as he came back to himself and glanced outside. He immediately crouched down and carefully rolled up the maps laid on the floor. “These maps absolutely can’t get wet.”

As he tidied them up, he turned back with a smile toward Ying Changchuan. “Your Majesty’s map-drawing skills are exceptional. When you have time in the future, you could redraw these two onto a single sheet.”

Jiang Yuxun didn’t feel at all that assigning the emperor such a task was inappropriate.

And Ying Changchuan agreed without hesitation. “Of course.”

The emperor had already dismissed the maids and eunuchs outside Liuyun Hall.

Seeing the storm about to break, he stepped forward and personally latched the window.

Just before it closed, a gust of night wind slipped through the crack and blew out the candle on the nearby stand.

The room fell abruptly silent.

Jiang Yuxun could clearly hear his own heartbeat…

The atmosphere in the hall was simply too perfect.

Not only had the scent of medicated wine not dissipated, it had grown even more intoxicating than before.

The moment the side hall plunged into darkness, Jiang Yuxun—having finished packing up the maps and walked over—suddenly rose onto his toes and pecked the emperor on the cheek.

After committing the mischief, he immediately retreated, trying to pretend nothing had happened.

But Jiang Yuxun was still a step too slow.

Outside, rain suddenly poured down.

Fine droplets struck the window lattice like needles, crackling nonstop.

Ying Changchuan abruptly pulled Jiang Yuxun into his arms, placing one light kiss after another along his lips in time with the rain outside, and murmured indistinctly, “Do you know why I stayed in Liuyun Hall for so long just now?”

“I—I don’t know…” Jiang Yuxun’s voice was already shattered by the kisses.

Instinctively, he tried to lift his hand to stop Ying Changchuan, but before he could move, he remembered he was still holding the rolled maps.

He froze at once, left with no choice but to endure the kisses passively.

Ying Changchuan chuckled softly by his ear and explained in a low, husky voice, “The Marquis Jing of the former dynasty had a poor reputation. Princess Lianyi heard many rumors about him in her early years…”

Jiang Yuxun’s ears rang with a sudden buzz.

“The Marquis Jing of the former dynasty” was Ying Changchuan’s father.

He was known for currying favor with the powerful and trampling the weak, a devoted follower of Lingtian Platform.

Worse still, his private conduct was infamous—his residence was filled with countless men and women, and his indulgences were said to be endlessly varied.

—This was even obliquely recorded in the History of Zhou.

Though Princess Lianyi had not returned to Great Zhou all these years, she knew Ying Changchuan kept no such chaotic company around him.

When she saw the conspicuous marks on Jiang Yuxun’s wrist earlier, she immediately thought of Ying Changchuan’s father and those strange rumors—and both openly and subtly warned Ying Changchuan not to go too far.

The rain outside grew heavier and heavier. At some point, Jiang Yuxun was already half-reclining on the couch.

The other man’s breathing brushed his neck like a ribbon tied there.

After roughly explaining Princess Lianyi’s concerns, Ying Changchuan not only failed to stop—he even asked Jiang Yuxun in return, “Axun, guess what she misunderstood me as having done to you?”

As those words fell, Jiang Yuxun’s wrist seemed to heat up in that very instant.

…What kind of thing would someone have done for there to be so many marks on a wrist?

He told himself again and again not to let his thoughts run wild, but his mind still followed Ying Changchuan’s words against his will. Trembling, he blurted out all those messy, improper thoughts.

The bed curtains had come loose from Ying Changchuan’s earlier movements.

Jiang Yuxun closed his eyes in near despair.

—Never had he regretted so much flipping through the illustrated book Ruogu had sent him.

※

Summer downpours always came fast and left just as quickly.

By the next morning, the sky had completely cleared, with only small puddles on the ground bearing traces of the night’s rain.

The Yi River Plain, sweltering for so long, finally cooled by a few degrees.

Common folk streamed out of their homes to travel and enjoy the scenery, yet within Xianyou Palace everyone remained as busy as ever.

…

After returning to Zhaodu, Jiang Yuxun still had countless matters to attend to and no time at all to concern himself with the “spies” Lingtian Platform had sent north.

Still, he learned quite a bit from the Xuan Seal Bureau:

Those few followers of Lingtian Platform had not stayed long in the imperial prison before confessing everything—what they should have said and what they shouldn’t.

On the surface, they were merely ordinary people who had once lived near Zhaodu.

But by frequently participating in Lingtian Platform’s activities, they had already—consciously or not—learned many secrets.

This time, they directly exposed Lingtian Platform’s entire foundation.

To Jiang Yuxun, however, none of that mattered.

—They had taken Lingtian Platform’s benefits and sold their loyalty by passing intelligence to Zherou, utterly disregarding the lives of countless Great Zhou civilians.

If this affair were made public, it would deal Lingtian Platform a devastating blow.

After Jiang Yuxun and the others returned to Zhaodu, the shamans of Lingtian Platform became as frantic as ants on a hot pan.

Within just a few days, they repeatedly sought audiences with the emperor—only to be turned away by Ying Changchuan on the grounds of being “too busy to receive guests,” never once succeeding in stepping into Xianyou Palace.

“…So the shamans are still outside the palace?” Jiang Yuxun finally set down his brush and asked after hearing the report from the Xuan Seal Bureau.

The official smiled. “Exactly so. The shaman at Shang You’s side has stood guard outside for two full days now without closing his eyes.”

Lingtian Platform was already riddled with guilt. Ying Changchuan’s continued inaction after returning to Zhaodu only intensified their anxiety.

According to the Xuan Seal Bureau, the entire Lingtian Platform was now secretly in turmoil.

Just as Jiang Yuxun and the bureau official were discussing this, a report suddenly sounded from outside Liuyun Hall.

The eunuch’s sharp voice pierced through the doors: “Shang You, Diviner of Lingtian Platform, seeks an audience—”

Jiang Yuxun slowly set down his brush and exchanged a glance with the Xuan Seal Bureau official.

—With the palace closed for days, Shang You had finally lost patience and come in person.

Before the eunuch finished speaking, Ying Changchuan walked out from the rear hall.

The bureau official hurriedly bowed. Jiang Yuxun couldn’t help asking, “Your Majesty intends to see Shang You?”

“Not yet,” the emperor said calmly as he took his seat and casually lifted his teacup, shaking his head. “The Diviner has always enjoyed ‘sharing in the people’s joy.’ Now is a perfect opportunity.”

Jiang Yuxun looked at him in slight confusion.

He was about to ask what Ying Changchuan meant when he suddenly guessed the answer—

Shang You knew well that Lingtian Platform’s foundation lay in the countless believers across the Zhaodu Plain. For years, he had kept a low profile and stayed close to the people.

Lingtian Platform’s panic was likely because Ying Changchuan had already had the Xuan Seal Bureau spread the news in secret.

If Jiang Yuxun was right, the palace gates outside were probably crowded with commoners.

And at this very moment, Shang You was being questioned by them at the gates of Xianyou Palace.

As Diviner, Shang You would never personally contact the spies.

But he would certainly entrust the task to the shaman he trusted most.

Now that the Diviner himself had come, the shaman could not be absent.

Shang You, with his strong nerves, might maintain his composure—but the shaman likely would not.

Under the gaze of so many onlookers, even the slightest slip on the shaman’s face would be noticed.

And such details would spread through Zhaodu’s streets and alleys at lightning speed.

With history already altered, Changchuan no longer needed to burn down Lingtian Platform as recorded in the past.

He only needed to strike at human hearts—cutting the weeds at the root and eradicating it completely.

While Jiang Yuxun was lost in thought, the Xuan Seal Bureau officials were dismissed by the emperor.

As they left, they followed his instruction and placed a sheet of paper on the desk before Jiang Yuxun.

“What is Your Majesty planning to do?” Jiang Yuxun asked, puzzled as he glanced at the paper.

…If he wasn’t mistaken, this looked like an unfinished schedule.

This sort of thing didn’t exist in Great Zhou’s era.

The format of this chart had been copied by Ying Changchuan from his notebook!

Jiang Yuxun bit his lip silently.

The emperor smiled and said slowly, “Next month, there will be ten days of leave. Jiang Shizhong will be responsible for arranging my itinerary.”

“Ten days of leave?” Jiang Yuxun froze. “Why rest for so long all of a sudden?”

In Great Zhou, there was one rest day per week; even during major festivals like the solstices, leave only increased to three or five days.

Ying Changchuan set down the memorial he had just picked up and frowned, feigning displeasure. “An emperor’s wedding naturally warrants ten days of leave.”

Jiang Yuxun: “……”

I see now—Ying Changchuan is giving himself marriage leave…

And he’s even making me arrange the schedule for those ten days.

Isn’t he supposed to be the famous workaholic recorded in history?

“What?” Seeing Jiang Yuxun sitting there motionless, Ying Changchuan lowered his voice again. “Does Jiang Shizhong have objections?”

He deliberately slowed his tone, adding a hint of nonchalance—just like when they first met.

He even idly rotated the dark jade ring on his finger as he spoke.

Sunlight slipped through the gaps of the taotie-patterned screen and fell across Ying Changchuan’s face, leaving it half-lit, half-shadowed.

For a moment, it seemed as though he had truly returned to years past, once again the inscrutable emperor of old.

Jiang Yuxun was no longer merely “Shizhong.” Court and capital alike were used to calling him “Lord Jiang” or “Minister Jiang.”

Hearing the long-unused title “Shizhong” instantly pulled his memories back several years.

Seeing the emperor’s unchangingly stern expression, Jiang Yuxun suddenly realized—

Was Ying Changchuan… role-playing with him?

With the attendants long gone, sitting in the empty hall made Jiang Yuxun inexplicably nervous.

“N-no… none,” he said stiffly as he picked up the brush.

Before he could decide what to write, Ying Changchuan—who had been reading memorials—rose and walked over.

By the time Jiang Yuxun reacted, he was already pulled into the emperor’s arms, and Ying Changchuan had picked up the brush Jiang Yuxun had set aside.

“If Jiang Shizhong won’t write, then I shall arrange it myself.”

There was danger in Ying Changchuan’s voice as he lifted his wrist and dipped the brush in ink.

Jiang Yuxun shuddered instinctively, belatedly recalling a crucial question—

Wasn’t marriage leave in Great Zhou supposed to be three days?

How had it suddenly become ten?