Chapter 114: If: Xiao Shao Travels to His Past Life

Chapter 114 If: Xiao Shao Returns to His Past Life

Xiao Shao had visited the Fuyou Temple, and his nightmares had lessened somewhat.

That morning, he woke up as usual, drowsily reaching for Xiao Tanhu beside him, only to hear someone drawled, "Your Majesty, time to wake up."

Xiao Shao turned his head and met the aged face of Li Dequan.

Xiao Shao: "?"

He flung the covers aside: "Where's Qi Yan?"

Did he go to court without me?

Li Dequan was taken aback: "You mean the former Chief Overseer? He should be at Fuyou Temple now."

Xiao Shao paused: "Fuyou Temple?"

Li Dequan: "Indeed. Ever since Your Majesty ascended the throne, he withdrew to Fuyou Temple and has never left."

Xiao Shao: "What year is it now?"

Li Dequan blinked, then chuckled: "Did you sleep poorly? It's the sixth year of Zhaoyuan."

The sixth year of Zhaoyuan?!

How could it be the sixth year of Zhaoyuan?!

Xiao Shao got out of bed in a hurry, grabbing his clothes: "Suspend court today. Prepare a carriage—I'm going to Fuyou Temple."

The night’s heavy snowfall had left the ground thickly blanketed, the cold biting deep. Xiao Shao hurried into the temple, pushed open a side gate, and passed a courtyard wall adorned with plum blossoms before halting at the entrance of a small yard.

There, he saw Xiao Tanhu—no, *Nine Thousand-Year Lord*.

Qi Yan lay curled under a threadbare quilt, his breaths shallow. When he noticed Xiao Shao, he lifted his eyelids briefly before letting them fall again.

Nothing mattered now.

On the brink of death, whether it was torment or vengeance, nothing mattered anymore.

Xiao Shao stepped inside. The room was bitterly cold. He sat by the bed, his fingers brushing the quilt—then stilled.

What good was such a flimsy quilt?

Qi Yan let out a soft laugh, the sound muffled in his throat before dissolving into hacking coughs. He curled his lips, his narrow eyes fixed on Xiao Shao: "Has Your Majesty come to watch this worthless servant die?"

Xiao Shao's lips moved: "No."

Pursing his lips, he removed his cloak, bundled Qi Yan in it, then slid an arm beneath his knees and lifted him.

Qi Yan froze, then laughed again: "Where will Your Majesty dump me?"

The snowdrifts? The frozen lake? A firepit? Or somewhere else?

But Xiao Shao held him firmly, carrying him to the carriage. Inside, it was warm. He laid Qi Yan gently on the cushioned seat, took a hand warmer, and slid it under the covers.

The heat pressed against his icy body. Qi Yan tensed, then clung to it.

If death was inevitable, it was better to live a little more comfortably before the end.

He didn’t understand what Xiao Shao intended to do, but it couldn’t be anything good. Qi Yan closed his eyes, too exhausted to even think.

Yet soon after, he was carried into the palace hall.

This was Emperor Xiao Shao’s bedchamber. The braziers burned ceaselessly inside, warmed to a toasty heat like springtime, and the bedding had long been prepared with warming bottles, radiating comforting warmth. Xiao Shao freed him from the heavy cloak and tucked him into bed, carefully arranging several layers of quilts.

Then, the most respected senior physician from the Imperial Hospital sat by the bedside to take his pulse.

After the examination, the physician and the Emperor stepped into the outer chamber, conversing in hushed tones. Qi Yan couldn’t be bothered to listen—it was surely just talk of his life fading, his impending demise, and that treatment was futile. Yet Xiao Shao kept his voice very low, as if afraid to disturb him, speaking at length with the physician before seeing him out.

Soon after, bitter medicine was brought in. The Emperor held a spoon to his lips, coaxing, "Just one sip."

Qi Yan kept his eyes shut and said nothing. At this point, each extra day was just another day of torment—he only wished for a swift death.

He waited for the Emperor’s patience to run out, for his lips to be pried open and the medicine poured in, or for some other method. But the spoon remained patiently at his lips for a long time before the Emperor let out a quiet sigh.

Xiao Shao said, "Just one sip. It's good for you."

He actually sounded like he was bargaining.

Qi Yan lifted his eyelids to look at him, only to see Xiao Shao bring the bowl to his own lips and take a sip.

Qi Yan’s eyebrow flickered. All medicine is partly poison, and given his current condition, the doses were dangerously strong—how could Xiao Shao drink it? But before he could ask, Xiao Shao leaned down and closed the distance between their lips.

A kiss.

Qi Yan’s pupils dilated. In all his years of living, no one had ever kissed him. Moreover, Xiao Shao’s kiss was filled with too much tenderness, as if he were something precious. His defiance melted away, and his lips parted.

The concoction was harsh and bitter. Qi Yan swallowed hastily, then gripped the bedframe as he began to cough. Xiao Shao rubbed his back gently before pressing something else to his lips.

... Osmanthus cakes from Tongxing Bakery.

This had been Qi Yan’s favorite pastry in his youth. Back then, his family couldn’t even afford it. Later, as life took its twists and turns, he rose to become the Nine Thousand-Year Lord and could buy all the pastries in the world—yet he never tasted them again.

But now, the cake was offered to his lips once more.

Xiao Shao broke off a small piece, holding just a fragment in his hand. "This’ll take the edge off."

Qi Yan lowered his gaze and took the morsel into his mouth.

The fragrance of osmanthus filled his lips—so sweet.

After swallowing, Xiao Shao pushed the medicine bowl toward him again. "Will you drink it yourself, or shall I feed you?"

If anyone else said "feed," it would likely mean prying open his throat to pour it in. But when Xiao Shao said "feed," he meant the kiss from earlier.

Qi Yan hesitated for a moment before taking hold of the spoon.

Being force-fed was one thing, but a kiss… was too strange.

A strange warmth flooded his limbs, as if his bones had turned to liquid.

He obediently drank the medicine and was given another piece of osmanthus cake. Xiao Shao tucked the quilts around him. "The palace kitchen’s keeping porridge warm. What flavor would you like?"

Qi Yan found it all bizarre. In the Emperor’s presence, how could it be his place to decide what porridge to drink?

He said nothing. Xiao Shao didn’t mind. "You probably like sweet porridge. Bring a bowl of osmanthus and lotus seed."

Qi Yan's brows furrowed tighter. He did indeed like osmanthus lotus seed porridge, but ever since becoming the Supervising Duke, where emotions must never show on one's face, he had concealed all his preferences. How had Xiao Shao found out?

Before long, the lotus seed porridge was brought in. The seeds had been stewed to a soft, melting texture—delicately sweet. Xiao Shao picked up the spoon again: "Try it?"

His eyes held a smile, as if to say that if Qi Yan refused, he would offer another spoonful.

Qi Yan relented and lifted the bowl to drink the porridge.

He assumed Xiao Shao had some plan that required his cooperation, so he waited calmly. But the bed was soft, the room scented with incense, and wrapped in warmth, he drifted into sleep.

This sleep lasted until evening.

He woke in a daze just as Xiao Shao was dousing the lights. The Emperor loosened his sash, leaving only his inner robe, and walked toward him.

Qi Yan’s breath caught.

Of course. If there was anything left about him worth anything now, it was this face.

So he drew the blankets around himself, holding his breath in wait. But Xiao Shao merely climbed onto the bed beside him, pressed close, and after adjusting slightly, drew him into his arms.

Hesitant but tender.

Qi Yan found it laughable. What could he possibly warrant an Emperor’s careful devotion? Yet Xiao Shao’s attitude was unmistakably genuine. Noticing Qi Yan was awake, the Emperor asked softly, "Did I wake you?"

As if apologizing for disturbing his rest.

Qi Yan shook his head.

Xiao Shao: "Good."

He gathered him closer, patting the back of Qi Yan’s head. "Sleep. The physician said you need more rest—best to sleep through the winter, and only rise once it’s warm."

The embrace was warm and secure. After a moment’s hesitation, Qi Yan still spoke: "This is the Emperor’s bed."

What did it mean for him to sleep here until spring?

Xiao Shao: "It’s warm here. Other places would leave you cold."

Qi Yan: "I’ve spent many winters at Fuyou Temple."

The implication being: he wouldn’t freeze to death.

Xiao Shao sighed. "This bed is soft. You’ll rest better."

He had only just brought Qi Yan back—he ought to take things slowly. But having regained what was lost, Xiao Shao didn’t want to wait.

Qi Yan found it all strange, but in the end, weariness pulled him under, and he fell asleep in the Emperor’s arms.

He spent more of each day asleep than awake, slipping back under as soon as he woke. Thus, the kitchen kept broth and porridge warm around the clock, so that whenever he woke, he could have something hot. Sweet cakes and dried fruits were never lacking—osmanthus cakes especially. Xiao Shao seemed to have learned his favorites and prepared them deliberately.

At first, Qi Yan ignored them. Later, upon waking, he would eat a couple.

At this point, with his future uncertain, giving in to small cravings—so as not to die a starving ghost—wasn’t so bad.

Qi Yan had assumed this was another one of the Emperor’s games. He didn’t know what act Xiao Shao was putting on, but surely it wouldn’t last. Yet day after day passed this way, and he truly lay undisturbed in bed until spring arrived.

The Emperor touched his cheek, then pinched his wrist, looking him over carefully before letting out a satisfied sigh: "Finally gained some healthy weight."

Still with that same gentle care.

Qi Yan was confused.

But things got even stranger. When spring came, Xiao Shao allowed him to leave the bed, though he still couldn't stand for long. The Emperor just picked him up and carried him to the imperial study.

The study was packed with case files.

Qi Yan didn't care to look, but as his gaze swept over them, it froze.

They were from that year's Silver Case.

Xiao Shao said, "I sent people to investigate in Hedong and uncovered some things. The case files are here—take a look. By summer at the latest, we can overturn the verdict."

Qi Yan looked at him, his usually calm eyes showing emotion for the first time. He sat down and flipped through the files, reading them from beginning to end, staying silent for a long while.

He sat there until evening.

Xiao Shao said, "It gets cold at night, and your health comes first before overturning the case. Let's get some sleep first."

As he spoke, he moved to pick Qi Yan up again.

Qi Yan raised a hand to stop him. He stared at Xiao Shao, his eyes filled with complex emotions, then lowered his gaze and said, "Your Majesty, what do you mean by this?"

Xiao Shao replied, "The Qi family was wronged. I will give them justice."

Qi Yan slowly closed his eyes.

After a moment, he suddenly said, "Your Majesty, do you know how the late Emperor died?"

The late Emperor, Xiao Yi, had ostensibly died of illness in this lifetime.

Xiao Shao hadn't had time to raise an army before he died in the imperial city.

Xiao Shao answered casually, "And how did he die?"

As if just humoring him, showing no real interest in the cause of death.

Qi Yan said, "I slipped something into his tea. Over the years, it killed him."

As he spoke, he raised his eyes to observe Xiao Shao's reaction.

For a minister to kill the Emperor was a grave crime. Any ruler would find it intolerable for a subject to be disloyal and unfilial. By laying out the truth like this, Qi Yan was asking for death.

He was waiting for Xiao Shao to lose his temper.

"I see." But Xiao Shao's expression remained calm. He merely tidied the memorials on the desk before saying, "Alright, I know now."

This was no big secret. Qi Yan had never hidden it, and Xiao Shao had long since uncovered the truth. He hadn't liked Qi Yan before, and this had been part of the reason.

Qi Yan was shocked and repeated, "I said, I killed Xiao Yi."

Xiao Shao still showed no reaction. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. You killed Xiao Yi."

He looked at Qi Yan helplessly. "I know, Chief Overseer. Yes, you killed him. Now can we go to bed?"

"...?"

The Emperor sighed. "The doctor said you need eight or nine hours of sleep. We're running late on that."

Xiao Shao picked him up again. "Don't overthink it. Let's sleep."

And so they had another peaceful night.