BEGW C109

Chapter 109

“Begging for mercy…”

Accompanied by the crackle of firewood, Jiang Yuxun’s fingers slowly curled into a fist.

Before he could turn away to avoid Ying Changchuan’s gaze, the Son of Heaven—standing by the stove—casually lifted a hand and rested it against his own shoulder.

With that single, simple gesture, he hooked every memory Jiang Yuxun had just forced down back to the surface.

Jiang Yuxun could swim, yes—but swimming by himself and being dragged into the water by Ying Changchuan were two entirely different experiences.

Not to mention that Ying Changchuan had gone and done that sort of thing in the water…

The sense of suffocation surged over him like waves, one after another.

With nowhere to brace himself, he could only give up resisting, clutching tightly at Ying Changchuan’s shoulder. In the process, he had unintentionally scratched the skin there, leaving behind a long mark…

It hadn’t been long since it happened.

Every sentence related to “begging for mercy” resurfaced in his mind with painful clarity.

…Under Ying Changchuan’s deliberate “guidance,” he had already said everything he should—and everything he absolutely shouldn’t have.

Every single word was mortifying.

“So what if I did?” Jiang Yuxun said, turning sideways to look out the window.

Firelight from the kitchen illuminated his eyes, draining his words of any real bite.

Fully satisfied, Ying Changchuan seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, a smile lingering at the corners of his lips.

Jiang Yuxun stubbornly pressed on. “What you did just now was leading the witness—cheating!”

Thinking of the things Ying Changchuan had coaxed him into saying, he narrowed his eyes, deliberately shifting the topic as he looked at him meaningfully. “I really wonder where Your Majesty learned that kind of language?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than something felt off.

Right—wasn’t Ying Changchuan the son of the Marquis of Jing, a born noble of imperial blood?

How did he even know such crude things?

As Jiang Yuxun pondered this, his vision suddenly darkened.

By the time he reacted, Ying Changchuan had already set down his utensils and appeared right in front of him.

“Is my beloved minister jealous?”

The smile on the emperor’s lips deepened.

How could that be?

Jiang Yuxun was just about to scoff—when a clear yet faintly hoarse voice slipped out without warning:

“…A little.”

It sounded muffled, genuinely unhappy.

The moment those three words were spoken, Jiang Yuxun froze.

…He was certain he hadn’t meant to say that.

Yet the truth that had slipped free told him something he himself hadn’t realized—that a quiet, unfamiliar emotion had already taken root in his heart.

Leaning against the doorframe, Jiang Yuxun’s breathing grew uneven.

Along with the bubbling of fish stew in the pot, he finally sniffed softly and raised a hand to rest lightly against Ying Changchuan’s chest. “You—”

Before he could finish, Ying Changchuan cut him off.

Lowering his gaze, the emperor spoke without a trace of his earlier nonchalance:

“I learned those words from your spring palace illustrations.”

The album Ru Gu had given him could be called a masterpiece.

It wasn’t just drawings—there was even a plot.

Jiang Yuxun: !!!

Could he please stop saying those three words out loud?

As if worried Jiang Yuxun might not believe him, Ying Changchuan added, “I brought that book to Yanxian Island. If you doubt me, you can check it yourself.”

…Why would he even bring that kind of thing to the island?

Jiang Yuxun felt genuinely shaken.

As he spoke, Ying Changchuan bent down, caging Jiang Yuxun in his arms. It looked very much like he planned to carry the barefoot Jiang Yuxun back to the bedroom to “verify” the claim on the spot.

The bubbling in the kitchen grew louder. Along with the fragrance of fish stew, an inexplicable scent seemed to creep into the air.

“I believe you,” Jiang Yuxun sniffed again, finally smacking Ying Changchuan’s hand away and blurting out in one breath. “Forget all that—this is not the time to argue about it.”

“Then what should we argue about?” Ying Changchuan pressed.

Jiang Yuxun’s gaze slid past his shoulder to the stove. After a brief pause, he silently raised a hand and pointed toward it, speaking uncertainly,

“…Um. Your pot… seems to be burning?”

Night wind drifted through the kitchen, carrying with it a faint scorched smell.

The smile vanished from the emperor’s lips.

…For once, Jiang Yuxun clearly read “awkwardness” in Ying Changchuan’s eyes.

After arriving on Yanxian Island, Jiang Yuxun’s internal clock completely failed him.

That night, Ying Changchuan restrained himself for the sake of Jiang Yuxun’s health. Exhausted from the day, Jiang Yuxun fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow—and when he woke again, it was already the next afternoon.

On the table in the bedroom sat warm dishes kept in specialized containers.

From the plating and carvings alone, it was clear they had been prepared by imperial chefs and sent to the island.

Seeing this, a trace of regret flashed through Jiang Yuxun’s eyes.

Fair was fair—Ying Changchuan’s cooking actually tasted decent.

Unfortunately, the highlight of the previous night—the fish stew—had completely burned in the pot, leaving very little salvageable.

What should have been fresh and savory was overwhelmed by scorched bitterness, turning rather strange.

After a moment of silence, Ying Changchuan told him to wait a few more days, apparently intending to seriously study the recipes and reclaim his honor later.

The emperor was on ten days’ leave, but an empire of this size could not simply stop.

Who knew what Ying Changchuan had gone off to do.

Even after Jiang Yuxun washed up and finished eating, he still hadn’t returned.

With nothing else to occupy him, Jiang Yuxun finally noticed the memorials stacked on a desk in the corner of the room.

He walked over and flipped them open.

To his surprise, it seemed Ying Changchuan had risen very early—all the memorials had already been reviewed.

Thinking back on everything from the previous day, Jiang Yuxun couldn’t help marveling at Ying Changchuan’s constitution.

—Did this man never get tired?

…

Lately, the empire’s biggest matter was the upcoming imperial examination.

Most of the memorials sent to Yanxian Island concerned this issue.

Now that everyone knew the emperor intended to reform the official system, both common applicants and officials in Zhaodu were fully mobilized.

After regime change and the coup years earlier, no one in court dared oppose the emperor anymore.

Naturally, there was little objection to the reform.

In the past, the people of Great Zhou used the Recommendation System, while noble youths entered office through hereditary appointment.

Compared to true examinations, hereditary appointments placed absolute authority in the emperor’s hands.

Some marginalized nobles had even given up hope of their descendants entering high office.

Yet with the announcement of the imperial exams, hope suddenly returned.

Unlike commoners, these noble youths were unwilling to serve in remote regions.

They aimed only for top rankings and high office.

Overnight, formerly “united” aristocrats became rivals, no longer as close as before—though they never stopped praising imperial grace.

Additionally, following Jiang Yuxun’s advice, Ying Changchuan had begun establishing a medical and public health bureau across Great Zhou.

Once the exams ended, talent would be selected to staff it.

There weren’t many memorials that day, nor were they complicated.

Jiang Yuxun finished reading quickly and set them aside.

Still no sign of Ying Changchuan.

After yesterday’s excesses, Jiang Yuxun’s body remained heavy with fatigue.

Too lazy to go out, he picked up a brush and began writing.

Since becoming an attendant, he had developed the habit of recording daily tasks in a notebook—sometimes even jotting down his mood or passing thoughts.

The sun slowly sank, cicadas chirring outside the window.

When Jiang Yuxun finally noticed, he realized—without knowing when—he had written a letter to his parents, far away in the modern world.

—He suddenly wanted to tell them that he was doing well.

That he had changed this world, even a little, simply by being here.

That he had met someone he wanted to spend his life with.

If only they could see it.

“What is my beloved minister doing?”

Just as Jiang Yuxun finished writing the letter, a set of footsteps suddenly sounded behind him.

Along with the crisp chime of bead curtains brushing together, Ying Changchuan walked back into the bedroom at an unhurried pace.

His long hair was fully tied back and crowned with a golden coronet, giving him an air of unmistakable solemnity.

In his hands was also a stack of what looked like red silk.

Jiang Yuxun had no intention of hiding anything.

“I was writing a letter to my parents… I wanted to tell them that Your Majesty and I have ended up together. It’s just that after finishing it, I don’t even know where this letter could be sent.”

As he spoke, he slowly set down his brush and carefully folded the letter.

There was a trace of loneliness in his voice.

It pricked Ying Changchuan’s heart like a tiny thorn.

The emperor bent down to place what he was holding aside, his voice growing uncharacteristically gentle.

“Next year, we’ll return to Lanze Commandery together and tell them properly.”

Jiang Yuxun smiled. He said nothing, only nodded softly.

Though he wasn’t the original owner of this body, remembering the original parents’ concern and expectations still made him want to return to Lanze and tell them—seriously—that he had served both country and people.

“…Alright.”

As he spoke, Ying Changchuan sat down behind him and began idly running his fingers through Jiang Yuxun’s long hair.

The topic was a heavy one.

Jiang Yuxun let out a quiet sigh, then finally turned his gaze to the pile of red fabric Ying Changchuan had brought.

“What’s that?”

He reached out to touch it.

Ying Changchuan stopped his hand and, instead of answering, asked,

“Does my beloved minister like the clothes he’s wearing now?”

…What Jiang Yuxun was wearing was Ying Changchuan’s inner robe.

Just the fact that it dragged along the floor made it hard to say he liked it.

Jiang Yuxun answered honestly,

“Of course not.”

He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he seemed to hear a soft laugh behind him.

“Then change into something else.”

Before Jiang Yuxun could react, Ying Changchuan stood up and unfolded the “red silk.”

Afternoon sunlight poured into the room, bathing it in a vivid crimson.

Only then did Jiang Yuxun realize—

That wasn’t red silk at all. It was a set of wedding robes.

※

That day, Jiang Yuxun hadn’t looked closely at Ying Changchuan’s “schedule.”

He had only glanced at it briefly—and seen the word “wedding.”

At the time, he’d thought Ying Changchuan was just scribbling nonsense.

Only now did it dawn on him, belatedly—

Ying Changchuan was serious.

Great Zhou aesthetics favored grandeur and complexity.

Even everyday official robes were ornate and dignified.

Jiang Yuxun had attended a colleague’s wedding in Zhaodu the previous year.

In his memory, Great Zhou wedding garments leaned conservative—

once worn, the person looked like a mummy, barely able to move.

And yet…

The clothes in Ying Changchuan’s hands were nothing like that.

The attendants who had delivered letters and food had long since left the island.

This “wedding” on Yanxian Island had no guests—only the two of them.

The wedding robes Jiang Yuxun wore were loose and comfortable.

Yet with each movement, they just happened to reveal a sliver of collarbone, wrist, and the pale skin of his ankles.

Before Jiang Yuxun could protest, Ying Changchuan produced a bridal veil from somewhere and gently placed it over his head.

In an instant, Jiang Yuxun’s world turned red.

A chill brushed his fingertips. Instinctively, he grasped the object placed into his hand.

With his vision blocked, his sense of touch sharpened.

Almost immediately, he recognized the uneven engraved patterns.

“…Why is Your Majesty giving me a wine cup?”

Though he’d worked in a museum and was sensitive to artifacts, he wasn’t so miraculous as to identify objects by touch alone.

…But this cup had a special connection to him.

The moment he’d entered the bedroom yesterday, he’d seen this golden goblet engraved with rare beasts—

the very one he’d once explained before crossing worlds.

In Great Zhou, only the imperial family could use vessels made of pure gold or jade.

His heart suddenly began to pound.

Ying Changchuan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned down and filled the cup with wine.

The fierce fragrance of strong liquor pierced through the veil and reached Jiang Yuxun’s nose—

just smelling it was enough to make one feel intoxicated.

Ying Changchuan leaned close to his ear and murmured in his usual low, lazy tone,

“Last time, I didn’t get the chance to lift the veil before it slipped off your shoulder. This time, we’ll start from where we left off.”

Great Zhou wedding customs differed from later eras.

There was no “first bow to Heaven and Earth, second bow to parents.”

If Jiang Yuxun remembered correctly, after drinking the shared wine, it was straight to the bridal chamber.

At that moment, he heard his own heartbeat clearly.

Ying Changchuan no longer seemed willing to wait.

Before Jiang Yuxun could fully realize what was about to happen, their arms were already entwined.

The cool rim of the cup touched his lips.

His arm lifted along with Ying Changchuan’s movement.

The next instant, fragrant liquor poured from the golden cup into his mouth.

Everything fell into chaos.

The cicadas had gone silent; only the stream outside stubbornly continued its gentle song.

After one cup of strong wine, Jiang Yuxun’s breathing turned hot.

Along with the scent of alcohol came a heavy trace of dragon-amber incense.

If he guessed correctly, the wedding clothes he wore had been scented with it as well.

With the red veil blocking his vision, Jiang Yuxun couldn’t see what was happening.

By the time he regained awareness, he had already fallen into Ying Changchuan’s arms.

Clang—

The ornate golden goblet slipped from his fingers, rolled twice across the floor, and left behind a spreading pool of clear wine.

Its aroma instantly filled the room.

In summer, layers of sheer gauze replaced felt bed curtains.

Warm breezes swept through the bedroom, stirring the gauze until it bloomed like layered peonies.

Ying Changchuan carried Jiang Yuxun to the bed and carefully reached for the red veil.

By now, Jiang Yuxun’s eyes had adjusted to the crimson glow.

Through the veil, he saw that Ying Changchuan’s gaze had turned uncommonly serious.

The emperor didn’t rush to lift it. Instead, with eyes full of devotion, he traced Jiang Yuxun’s features through the fabric.

His movements were impossibly careful.

Even his breathing slowed.

At this moment, the emperor himself was nervous.

“A’Xun.”

“…Mm?”

Jiang Yuxun’s voice drifted out from beneath the veil.

It seemed that only then did Ying Changchuan truly confirm the reality of this moment.

With a flick of his fingers, he finally lifted the veil from Jiang Yuxun’s head.

Red fell away from his eyes.

Jiang Yuxun hadn’t tied his hair that day. Against the curtain of black hair, his skin looked even paler.

In his nervousness, he’d bitten his lip.

Now his lips were a deeper red than usual, marked faintly by teeth, trembling slightly in the air.

In Ying Changchuan’s eyes, there was nothing else left but him.

The instant the veil hit the ground, the emperor slowly narrowed his eyes.

He no longer concealed or restrained himself.

The overwhelming presence unique to a ruler surged toward Jiang Yuxun in a single breath.

Jiang Yuxun once again braced his hand against Ying Changchuan’s shoulder and instinctively glanced toward the gauze outside the bed.

He’d felt something odd about this residence since arriving but couldn’t pinpoint why.

Now he finally understood—

The waterside bedroom was missing an entire wall—and it didn’t even have curtains.

Through the gauze, he could clearly see Yanxian Island’s flowers, trees, and flowing stream.

Even knowing there was no one else around, instinctive nervousness seized him.

…Couldn’t Ying Changchuan have chosen another place?

The fear of being seen wrapped tightly around him.

Flustered, Jiang Yuxun suddenly turned and coughed a few times.

“Cough—cough… I, I might’ve caught a chill after falling into the stream yesterday. I’m feeling a bit unwell. How about we… another day?”

Ever since Ying Changchuan had insisted he consult an imperial physician, Jiang Yuxun had realized just how much the man cared about his health.

Seeing the outside clearly now, panic drove him to clutch at the excuse of “illness.”

Bad at lying, Jiang Yuxun’s eyes darted everywhere as he spoke.

Half-reclining on the bed, he soon lost strength and instinctively clenched the fabric beneath his fingers.

But he forgot one thing—

Ying Changchuan was wearing the same loose wedding robes.

With that tug, the collar resting on Ying Changchuan’s shoulder slipped open.

…Revealing solid muscle and a vicious scar across the emperor’s chest, unmistakably clear.

Jiang Yuxun had never truly examined Ying Changchuan’s physique before.

Only now did he realize how much more developed the muscles of a battlefield-hardened general were than he’d imagined.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Ying Changchuan’s voice grew hoarser.

As he spoke, he produced a small porcelain bottle from nowhere and set it beside the bed.

…Help.

Even if one had never eaten pork, one had at least seen pigs run.

Jiang Yuxun instantly knew what it was.

The anxiety of what was about to happen sent his heart racing.

His breath hitched.

Recalling past experiences—and that object’s appearance—he even wondered whether he’d see tomorrow’s sun.

Ying Changchuan’s fingers brushed slowly over his lips as he murmured,

“Is A’Xun really ill?”

Only when he spoke did Jiang Yuxun realize his own voice was trembling.

“…I—I’m not.”

He knew it. He could never lie to Ying Changchuan.

Taking a deep breath, blinking hard, he finally gave up and admitted,

“I’m just… a little scared.”

Even as he said it, he couldn’t help mocking his own cowardice.

Ying Changchuan chuckled softly, gently kneading Jiang Yuxun’s lips as he feigned ignorance.

“What is A’Xun afraid of?”

“Pain,” Jiang Yuxun answered, eyes squeezed shut in resignation.

“And… it’s too bright here. I’m not used to it.”

If his observation was correct, it seemed all the buildings on Yanxian Island had been remodeled this way.

Though the wedding ceremony had been rushed—almost nonexistent—after drinking the shared wine, their relationship had undeniably changed.

Jiang Yuxun knew this would happen sooner or later, and he knew Ying Changchuan wasn’t truly ascetic like himself…

Worried about restraining him too much, he conceded another step.

“How about… we wait until it’s dark?”

This time, Ying Changchuan did not agree.

The moment the words left his mouth, Jiang Yuxun’s vision went black again.

Instinctively, he reached up—

and felt only smooth fabric.

…Ying Changchuan’s preparations were far more thorough than he’d imagined.

Somehow, he’d found a silk ribbon and tied it over Jiang Yuxun’s eyes.

“This way is better.”

Seriously? Even this?

Blindfolded, Jiang Yuxun’s hearing sharpened dramatically.

The loose wedding robes slid from his shoulders.

Whether illusion or not, the sound of water outside seemed suddenly louder.

He instinctively clutched Ying Changchuan’s arm.

Sensing his unease, Ying Changchuan lowered his head and kissed Jiang Yuxun’s fingertips.

“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt.”

“If anything feels uncomfortable, just tell me, alright?”

As he spoke, their fingers interlaced.

That cup of strong wine seemed to take effect at last.

Jiang Yuxun’s head grew foggy.

Ying Changchuan’s words flowed past his ears like water.

It’s just that kind of thing—what is there to be afraid of?

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Yuxun bit down lightly and said hoarsely,

“Alright. Then… go slowly, okay?”

His voice was especially rough now.

Heart pounding faster than ever, he even felt his skin heating with each breath.

Calm down. Calm down.

No one’s going to die.

Refusing to show weakness, Jiang Yuxun inhaled deeply.

Though silk still separated him from the world, he squeezed his eyes shut and stiffened his posture, lying straight and still—

utterly resigned.

He had no idea how unbearably adorable this sight was to Ying Changchuan.

The emperor suddenly paused, lowering his gaze to study him.

With sight gone, time stretched endlessly.

Having steeled himself, Jiang Yuxun waited—and waited—with no movement, until relief crept in.

Maybe… Ying Changchuan also thought it was too soon?

“Your Majesty?” he asked tentatively.

“What is it?” Ying Changchuan replied softly,

idly lifting a lock of black hair and inhaling its scent.

Mistaking the pause for reprieve, Jiang Yuxun smiled faintly and asked with anxious hope,

“Are you… nervous too?”