BEGW C110

Chapter 110

Jiang Yuxun’s ears fell suddenly silent.

Only the soft, tinkling sound of the stream outside the small pavilion remained.

Dusk deepened, and the entire Yanxian Island was dyed a vivid crimson by the setting sun.

Ying Changchuan lowered his gaze and slowly wound a lock of inky hair around his fingers.

Those smoke-gray eyes held an undisguised danger.

In the next instant, he released the strand.

The long hair brushed across Jiang Yuxun’s chest like a feather—

over skin that was trembling and rising and falling with nervous breaths.

Ying Changchuan did not answer the question.

He only smiled faintly—

—and used his actions to tell Jiang Yuxun whether he was nervous or not.

……

Night gradually deepened over Yanxian Island.

Moonlight spilled across the ground, shattering against the stream outside the window.

The small bedroom filled with ambiguous sounds.

The silk blindfold covering Jiang Yuxun’s eyes had long since been rubbed aside without anyone noticing.

Under the moonlight, his already pale skin glowed like fine white porcelain.

The scattered marks upon it, and the redness at the corners of his eyes, became all the more conspicuous.

The night breeze lifted the thin red gauze. Everything outside the window remained clearly visible.

Jiang Yuxun bit down hard on his own wrist, afraid that even the slightest sound might escape him.

Black hair at his brow was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead.

His teeth trembled with pleasure and pain alike, yet he refused to loosen his bite.

In a haze, Ying Changchuan suddenly leaned close and asked in a low voice,

“Do you not like it?”

The emperor’s breathing was heavy, his voice low and hoarse, like an incantation carrying irresistible temptation.

Jiang Yuxun involuntarily parted his clenched teeth.

“I… I like it…”

Ying Changchuan seemed especially adept at exploiting the rules at moments like this.

Half of the red gauze curtains still hung overhead, swaying like petals caught in a stream.

The other half had long been tugged down at some unknown point, messily piled on the bed and bunched beneath his head.

Jiang Yuxun reached out at random, grabbing at the gauze on the bed—

trying to use it to cover his eyes.

Who would have thought Ying Changchuan would speak again?

“But here?” he asked softly.

“……”

The night wind carried fallen petals, spinning them through the air before they sank together into the stream’s eddies.

Jiang Yuxun’s cheeks burned red. He wanted to clench his teeth again, yet only managed to answer in a trembling voice,

“Yes…”

The small pavilion on Yanxian Island was exquisitely designed.

It was not only beautiful, but exceptionally practical as well.

After renovation, the warm spring and stream that once circled the house had been drawn directly inside.

Even in the heat of summer or during heavy rain, bathing was never affected.

Ever since setting foot on Yanxian Island, Jiang Yuxun had completely lost track of day and night.

When he finally awoke in a daze, the sun was once again hanging in the sky—

and he found himself being held by Ying Changchuan, seated within the indoor hot spring.

Long hair like spilled ink melted into the water, mingling with flower petals to conceal what lay beneath the surface.

Jiang Yuxun glanced down for only an instant before jerking his gaze away as if scalded, instinctively curling his fingers tight.

…The clean, refreshed sensation across his body told him that Ying Changchuan had already taken care of everything before he woke.

Realizing this, Jiang Yuxun quietly let out a breath of relief.

“You’re awake?” The familiar voice sounded beside his ear, accompanied by a splash of water against his shoulder.

Jiang Yuxun could not remember when he had lost consciousness the night before.

But he could vaguely tell that Ying Changchuan had kept going until at least midnight…

“Yes—cough, cough…” Only when he spoke did Jiang Yuxun realize how hoarse his voice had become, his throat dry and aching.

Seeing him cough, Ying Changchuan finally frowned and, with a splash, lifted him out of the spring.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Truly, comparison was infuriating.

Not only did Ying Changchuan’s voice show not the slightest trace of fatigue, even his usual languid tone seemed diminished—he sounded remarkably energetic.

As he spoke, he used a wide cloth set nearby to dry Jiang Yuxun’s long hair, then carefully laid him down on the bed.

From the corner of his eye, Jiang Yuxun saw that the vivid red gauze had finally been removed, and the bedding replaced with fresh linens.

With the lingering traces of last night’s intimacy fully dispersed, Jiang Yuxun at last felt less tense.

“My throat’s a little dry and itchy…” Still lacking any strength, he explained hoarsely,

“Maybe… I caught a bit of cold air last night.”

Perhaps fearing Ying Changchuan would summon an imperial physician at once and have him examined in this sorry state, Jiang Yuxun mustered all his strength to hook a finger around Ying Changchuan’s sleeve, speaking hurriedly,

“No need to trouble the physician—cough… Are there pears on the island? Could you cook me a bowl of pear soup?”

Great Zhou did not have many sweets.

Though Jiang Yuxun had not been fond of sweets in his previous life, after so long without desserts he could not help craving them.

Only after speaking did he realize he had just ordered the emperor around.

Yet he did not stop. Instead, he “helpfully” added,

“Cut the pears into chunks, cook them with sugar—cough, cough… If there’s white fungus, you can add some of that too.”

His voice remained hoarse, tinged with an unusual weariness.

After finishing, he even blinked at Ying Changchuan lightly.

The emperor’s fingers resting on the bed curtains trembled faintly.

Ying Changchuan was not reckless. Throughout the night he had repeatedly asked about Jiang Yuxun’s condition, forcibly restraining himself to mind his health.

Thus, though Jiang Yuxun was exhausted, he had not been injured.

After listening, Ying Changchuan lowered his gaze and carefully studied the figure on the bed.

Only after confirming that Jiang Yuxun’s spirits were still good did he lean down, stroke his long hair, and murmur by his ear,

“Alright. Wait for me, Aiqing(beloved minister).”

“Mm.” Jiang Yuxun nodded lazily.

Fatigue surged over him like a tide once more.

He sighed softly and buried his face into the bedding.

The soreness and exhaustion arrived together at last, making it feel as though his body had been split cleanly in two.

He frowned deeply, his breathing growing heavy.

The sky gradually brightened.

Jiang Yuxun instinctively tried to lift his sleeve to shield his eyes—

only for darkness to suddenly fall over his vision.

…What was happening?

Still disoriented, Jiang Yuxun struggled to turn and look outside, only to see Ying Changchuan standing in a corner of the room.

On the previously open waterside corridor before his eyes, there was now—

—a bamboo screen.

There was actually a hidden mechanism here!

The waterside pavilion had originally been fitted with a bamboo blind, rolled up and hung beneath the window eaves.

Only now had the emperor let it down.

Jiang Yuxun: ?!

…Ying Changchuan had far too many tricks up his sleeve!

His face clearly spelled out the word shock.

At that moment, Ying Changchuan turned back and smiled at him.

“Sleep well.”

He appeared utterly at ease, no longer afraid to reveal his true nature before Jiang Yuxun.

Cooking pear soup was simple enough for Ying Changchuan; he did not even use the kitchen stove.

He placed the chopped pears into the clay brazier once meant for warming wine. Before long, a sweet fragrance filled the bedroom.

At the same time, calming incense was lit in the white jade Boshan burner in the corner.

Jiang Yuxun truly was exhausted. Before long, he sank into deep sleep.

Usually restless in his sleep, this time he lay unusually still.

At dawn, an attendant had ferried over the previous day’s memorials, now neatly stacked beside the bed.

Yet today, for the first time, the emperor set state affairs aside.

Ying Changchuan sat quietly by the bed, gently holding Jiang Yuxun’s hand in his palm, tracing his features again and again with his gaze—

as though he could never see enough.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of wood burning in the brazier.

At this moment, it seemed as though only this small island remained in the world—

and the two people upon it.

……

Jiang Yuxun was not only tired; having expended all his strength the day before, he was also ravenously hungry.

After more than half an hour,

he was awakened by the fragrance of fruit in the room.

When Jiang Yuxun struggled to open his eyes, Ying Changchuan had already filled a bowl with snow pear and white fungus soup and was holding it carefully.

This sleep had not eased his fatigue; instead, it made the soreness throughout his body all the clearer.

Trying to prop himself up to drink, he found he could not even lift a finger.

…Was Ying Changchuan even human?

He had barely slept all night, yet there was not a trace of dark circles under his eyes.

Noticing this, Jiang Yuxun felt a flicker of jealousy.

Once was coincidence; twice was familiarity.

By now, he had all but forgotten Ying Changchuan’s status as emperor.

Too tired to move, Jiang Yuxun shamelessly said,

“I don’t think I can get up.”

Ying Changchuan cooperatively sat by the bed, stroking Jiang Yuxun’s hair and asking in mock concern,

“Then what should we do?”

The bamboo blind sliced the sunlight into thin strips.

The small bedroom grew dim and secluded.

Jiang Yuxun bit his lip lightly, then looked up at Ying Changchuan with some hesitation.

“Then… could Your Majesty feed me?”

—This was exactly what Ying Changchuan wanted.

The emperor drew Jiang Yuxun halfway into his arms, waiting for the steam to fade before bringing the sweet soup to his lips.

His movements were extraordinarily patient.

He seemed nothing like the decisive, blood-soaked ruler of the battlefield.

The snow pear and white fungus soup, simmered for over half an hour, was exquisitely smooth.

One sip felt like swallowing a spring breeze.

Jiang Yuxun’s throat gradually stopped aching, and his voice returned closer to normal.

Though awake now, his body was still uncomfortable.

After half a bowl, he stopped.

The bedroom’s dim light made it hard to tell day from night.

Within it, drowsiness crept over him again.

Seeing this, Ying Changchuan set aside the bowl and gently helped Jiang Yuxun lie back down.

…At the end of the day, last night’s events were something Jiang Yuxun himself had invited. He had no intention of taking revenge on Ying Changchuan.

Watching the man turn to put away the bowl, he could not help calling out,

“…Wait, Your Majesty.”

“What is it?” Filtered sunlight softened Ying Changchuan’s gaze to an unusual warmth.

“Your Majesty hasn’t rested all night either, right?” Jiang Yuxun looked at him seriously as he spoke. “Are you really not tired?”

Objectively speaking, there was nothing wrong with what he said.

However, having just overturned the cart on precisely this point the night before, the moment the words left his mouth, alarms blared in Jiang Yuxun’s head.

…Ying Changchuan, please don’t misunderstand again!

He really was not questioning his stamina.

Jiang Yuxun immediately added, “Don’t misunderstand—I didn’t mean it like that.”

Seeing the panic and regret in his eyes, Ying Changchuan rarely paused mid-step and reflected for a moment—

…Had his image in A’xun’s heart perhaps become a little too indecent?

※

The summer wind gradually picked up a hint of coolness.

The stream winding gently around the small pavilion grew hazier with rising mist.

After a light rain, the heat of summer was completely washed away.

The first fallen leaf drifted down from the willow tree not far from the pavilion.

With day and night reversed, ten days passed with startling speed.

According to Ying Changchuan’s original plan, the two of them were supposed to stroll through Zhaodu and Moon-Sheath Ridge as well.

Yet somehow, they never once left the bounds of Yanxian Island.

In the blink of an eye, it was time to leave.

Tomorrow, work would resume in full—his biological clock could no longer remain in chaos.

Though still drowsy, Jiang Yuxun forced himself not to sleep during the day.

The elm-wood carriage was layered with thick cushions. Leaning against the carriage wall padded with cotton pillows, Jiang Yuxun lifted the curtain slightly and looked outside.

Without noticing, the Beginning of Autumn had already passed.

In previous years, common folk would already be preparing to harvest millet by this time.

But now, wheat—higher-yielding and more nutritious—was enough to meet the daily needs of the people along the Yi River, even filling the granaries.

They no longer insisted on planting millet.

After the summer harvest, the fields were instead filled with cabbage, spinach, and other vegetables.

—Anyone who had attended school knew that “eating well” was just as important as “eating enough.”

Besides meat, all kinds of vegetables and tea were indispensable.

At this moment, the fields were full of people planting spinach.

In scattered plots nearby, others were still reclaiming land.

With newer, more efficient farming tools, more and more people could take part in labor.

Not only able-bodied men, but also children and women could now wield tools to harvest and clear land.

From this year on, any able-bodied adult—regardless of gender—could establish their own household and receive land in Great Zhou.

Land reclaimed collectively found owners at the fastest possible speed.

The commoners working along the ridges might not yet understand the significance of this change.

But Jiang Yuxun, coming from the modern era, guessed that in roughly a hundred years, Great Zhou would be transformed because of it.

The historical period Great Zhou occupied had not yet developed the rigid ritual codes of later ages.

Even in the previous dynasty, there had been many women ennobled as marquises.

Yet those were ultimately privileges—castles in the air, revocable at any moment.

Only reform rising from the ground up, beginning with land and economic rights, could turn “privilege” into something everyone could enjoy—

—and eventually evolve into a unique and lasting force.

“Clink, clink, clink—”

The sound of camel bells suddenly rang out in the distance.

Ying Changchuan, reviewing memorials inside the carriage, also looked up and casually asked,

“A camel caravan headed for Qiaoluo?”

Jiang Yuxun’s eyes lit up instantly. “That’s right. Cotton yields were high this year—not only enough for Kehan, but with surplus to send west…”

Mid-sentence, he remembered something and added, “Once we’re back at Xianyou Palace, we should start getting fruits from the Western Regions.”

Great Zhou had not only defeated Zherou but also preserved the Western Region states led by Qiaoluo.

After the great victory, no longer needing to avoid Zherou, they also no longer had to reroute goods through Kehan.

Almost at the same time victory was secured, watermelon seeds had already reached Great Zhou via the northern territories.

By calculation, these few days marked the ripening of the first batch.

Jiang Yuxun was usually indifferent to food, so seeing him this excited, Ying Changchuan couldn’t help setting aside the memorials.

“If Aiqing likes them, next year I’ll have people plant more early in the estates.”

At this, Jiang Yuxun was completely awake.

Though he looked forward to watermelon, he still shook his head.

“No need for now… Western fruits aren’t necessarily very tasty.”

As he spoke, a note of regret crept into his voice.

The earliest watermelons looked nothing like the ones modern people remembered.

Their rind and flesh were both white, not sweet, with coarse fibers and poor texture.

Rather than eating them as fruit, people often used them cold-dressed or stewed.

The red-fleshed, green-rinded watermelon familiar today would not appear until later.

The official road near Zhaodu was built with stone foundations, gravel infill, and compacted clay—its smoothness rivaling modern concrete roads.

But no road was free of loose stones.

As the carriage rolled along, it inevitably jolted.

A wooden wheel suddenly crushed a stone.

Jiang Yuxun, seated by the window, sucked in a sharp breath. “Hiss—”

“Does it still hurt?” Ying Changchuan said as he drew him into his arms, frowning slightly.

“When we return to Xianyou Palace, we’ll—”

Realizing what he was about to say, Jiang Yuxun abruptly covered Ying Changchuan’s mouth.

“No need to summon the imperial physician!”

Though not prone to scarring, Jiang Yuxun’s excessively fair skin marked easily.

Even now, the marks from the first day were still clearly visible—far from fading, with new ones layered atop them.

…All because Ying Changchuan, having abstained for so many years, seized the chance to indulge.

This absolutely could not be seen by the imperial physician!

Though autumn had begun, the temperature had not yet fully dropped.

Jiang Yuxun was still wearing a light summer robe.

As his wide sleeve slipped down with the movement, a patch of red marks was revealed.

“Does it hurt?” Ying Changchuan produced a salve for swelling and marks from somewhere and gently applied it to Jiang Yuxun’s arm.

Lowering his voice, Jiang Yuxun admitted awkwardly,

“That night… everything hurt. It felt like I was falling apart.”

Remembering Ying Changchuan’s promise of “it won’t hurt,” he couldn’t help complaining,

“They say a Son of Heaven’s word is worth nine tripods—how can Your Majesty be so unreliable?”

Ying Changchuan’s hand paused for a moment before he replied shamelessly,

“That’s not something I can control.”

His movements were indeed gentle and careful—yet being built as he was, Jiang Yuxun could only bear it.

Sensing the conversation drifting into dangerous territory, Jiang Yuxun forcefully cleared his throat.

“Cough, cough… The leave ends today. Tomorrow we meet the officials and confirm the imperial examination. Your Majesty should think about proper matters—we’ll stop talking about this.”

Yanxian Island had many hot springs, and autumn arrived there later than elsewhere.

But here on the Zhaodu plains, Jiang Yuxun could already feel autumn’s arrival.

This year’s autumn brought not only harvest, but expectation.

The examination papers had already been distributed. Before long, the year’s talents would gather across counties for the first round of imperial exams.

As he finished speaking, Jiang Yuxun straightened up and adjusted his collar.

The red marks on his wrist were hidden once more beneath his sleeve.

In an instant, he was again the proper Minister Jiang.

Ying Changchuan’s gaze never left him.

In those smoke-gray eyes lay undisguised possessiveness, and a desire Jiang Yuxun once failed to understand—but now recognized all too well.

The carriage had reached the foot of the mountain where Xianyou Palace stood.

Outside the window, soldiers now joined the commoners.

Ten days on Yanxian Island had almost made him forget who the man beside him truly was.

Yet everything around him now reminded Jiang Yuxun—

Ying Changchuan was not only his partner, but the Son of Heaven of Great Zhou.

His heart thudded heavily.

Just as Jiang Yuxun sat upright and lifted his hand to adjust the curtain—

Ying Changchuan suddenly seized his wrist and pressed him hard against the carriage wall.

The interior dimmed once more.

Only those pitch-black eyes shone brightly.

Ying Changchuan stared deeply into Jiang Yuxun’s eyes and lowered his voice meaningfully:

“I regret it. What should I do?”

“Regret what?” Jiang Yuxun asked reflexively.

With complete justification, the emperor replied,

“Regretting that I only took ten days of leave.”

At the same time, his thumb lightly brushed the red marks on Jiang Yuxun’s wrist.

Jiang Yuxun: “……”

I knew I shouldn’t expect him to say anything decent.

Just as he turned away, unwilling to engage—

Ying Changchuan tightened his grip slightly and pulled him close.

“And regretting… that I held back for so long.”

The elm-wood carriage was spacious, its walls padded with cotton for soundproofing.

There was no need to whisper.

Yet Ying Changchuan deliberately lowered his voice, murmuring by Jiang Yuxun’s ear,

“Wasting so much time… truly a pity.”

The carriage climbed halfway up the slope.

The curtain swayed with the jolts, the gates of Xianyou Palace faintly visible.

With their destination so close, Jiang Yuxun had no patience left.

“When we were that busy before, where would we have found time to flirt with Your Majesty?”

As cries of “Long live the Emperor” rang out, the carriage passed through the palace gates and slowed to a stop.

Ying Changchuan still did not let go. Shaking his head lightly, his gaze drifted to Jiang Yuxun’s collarbones.

“What I meant was not merely ‘flirting.’”

He narrowed his eyes, expression deeply suggestive.

No different from when he had deliberately called him “Attendant Jiang” days before.

Ten days ago, Jiang Yuxun might not have understood.

But now he saw it clearly—

Ying Changchuan was acting again.

This time not “emperor and secretary,” but “tyrant.”

The phrase “using power to oppress” suddenly surfaced in his mind.

The carriage came to a complete stop.

With the soldiers gone and the sound of wheels stilled, Jiang Yuxun could clearly hear his own heartbeat.

He tried to retreat, only to hit the carriage wall.

They were already back at Xianyou Palace—why was Ying Changchuan still so invested in the act?!

At this moment, the emperor narrowed his eyes and slowly closed in—

like a beast emerging step by step from the forest.

He kissed Jiang Yuxun lightly at the temple and murmured by his ear,

“Aiqing wishes to know… what I want to do?”

Ying Changchuan’s gaze was sharp as a hawk’s—

filled with unfamiliar pressure and aggression.

Paired with that look, the question sounded like a lion asking a lamb,

“Do you want to know how I plan to eat you?”

Utterly outrageous.

After days of indulgence, Jiang Yuxun guiltily glanced at the curtain, his ears burning red.

He shook his head immediately, intending to refuse with righteous firmness.

But the question—asked on purpose—instantly stirred his instinctive curiosity…

No!

I don’t want to know at all.

He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth and desperately hypnotizing himself into disinterest.

It was useless.

Jiang Yuxun slowly opened his mouth.

A single word—

“…I do.”

—fell like dew from a leaf without warning.

Completely shattering the carriage’s stillness.