Chapter 16: The Silent Male Mother

Chapter 16: The Silent Guardian

Upon recognizing Qin Chanyue, the Crown Prince silently retreated two steps and gave a pointed look to the Deputy General.

Everyone in Chang'an knew that Qin Chanyue was the apple of the Prince of Southern Pacification's eye. No matter how outrageous her actions, the Prince indulged her unconditionally. Though the Prince was usually disciplined and principled, when it came to Qin Chanyue, logic went out the window.

The Prince had only this one weakness, so the Crown Prince never provoked her. If Qin Chanyue was rude, so be it. The more he tolerated and favored her, the more loyal the Prince remained to him. Yielding to this one woman was a small price to pay for his loyalty—a bargain worth making.

Thus, the Crown Prince stepped back quietly and left the room.

The Deputy General and the physician followed him out, closing the door behind them.

Once the door shut, only Qin Chanyue and Chu Hang on the bed remained inside.

The room was not dim. The afternoon sunlight streamed brightly through the windows, illuminating every corner and casting its glow upon Chu Hang's face.

Qin Chanyue gazed intently at her foster brother.

He lay on the bed, his upper body bare, a deep wound on his chest wrapped in bandages. The bloodstain made her eyes sting with pain. Below, he wore only thin silk undergarments, his eyes closed, his breathing faint. Such a towering man now lay motionless, and the sight tore at her heart.

Though her foster brother had been strict with her since childhood, though she had often resented his constant vigilance, she knew he was the one who loved her most. Seeing him like this, she wanted to cry, her gaze fixed on him as if each glance might be the last.

In her past life, her foster brother had died on the frontier. All she had received was his remains, long since rotted in his armor, unrecognizable. She had nearly forgotten what he looked like.

God only knew how guilty she felt when she learned of his critical injuries.

In her past life, at this time, her foster brother had still been safe at the border. Yet, because of her letter, he had returned gravely wounded—undoubtedly because of her.

Unable to resist, she reached out to touch his face.

Her foster brother was thirty-four, yet he appeared older than most, his features sharply defined, the scar on his forehead particularly striking. When she had married, his face had been unscarred—this mark must have come later.

After touching his head, she let her fingers move down to inspect the wound on his chest.

Her foster brother was robust, his years of martial training evident in his well-defined chest. It looked firm but felt slightly soft to the touch. She didn’t know the extent of his injury, but knowing he couldn’t take medicine—let alone anesthesia—made her heart ache even more.

Her hand glided gently over his chest, down to his hard abdomen, and then lower—had his legs been injured?

Without hesitation, Qin Chanyue reached to pull down his pants.

She had spent time in the military as a child. Her father had taught her early on to take pride in the Qin Family Army. She had seen countless wounded soldiers, and in her eyes, an injured, unconscious commander was not a man—she saw only wounds, not men. Every scar was a badge of honor, and she would examine their wounds without hesitation, willing to treat them.

She had even witnessed her foster brother being given medicine while unconscious long ago.

But just as her fingers tugged at his waistband, the man on the bed seemed to twitch. Qin Chanyue looked up eagerly. "Brother?" she called.

Had he awakened?

Yet the figure on the bed remained still unconscious, his lips pale.

Just as she was about to continue her inspection, a knock sounded at the door. A voice came through softly, "Miss Qin—the Prince is severely injured and needs rest."

Qin Chanyue's hand stilled.

After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled the blanket back over her foster brother and stood. "Understood," she replied before stepping out of the room.

Outside, she immediately began questioning urgently the nearest person, demanding to know how her foster brother had been injured. Meanwhile, the Deputy General slipped back in, approaching the bed and kneeling by it.

"Prince of Southern Pacification?" he whispered. The Prince of Southern Pacification slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze swept outside, faintly catching sight of Qin Chanyue questioning the servants. He stared for two breaths before hearing the Deputy General beside him ask, "Should we inform First Miss of your plan?"

Chu Hang silently watched her back.

After receiving Qin Chanyue’s letter, he had made inquiries within the army and indeed uncovered numerous spies. With these spies remaining, he could no longer safely remain stationed at the border—disaster would surely follow.

Thus, he used retreat as advance, pretending to be injured and rushing back to Chang’an overnight, shifting the problem to the young Crown Prince and the aging Emperor.

Let them see—their own court officials were turning on each other, even scheming to take the life of a renowned general. How would they handle this?

He intended to use his past military achievements to force the Emperor into giving him an answer.

Those who sought his death would have to pay with their lives.

So he had to pretend—pretend to be wounded, unable to rise from his bed, looking like death warmed over, putting on a convincing show of misery.

He could deceive anyone—except Qin Chanyue. After all, she actually dared to strip him to his underclothes.

The lingering sensation of her fingers brushing his skin still lingered on his face. Chu Hang closed his eyes and said, "Don't tell her."

He—

Of course, he could choose to tell Qin Chanyue. But just now, when she leaned close to him, that familiar warmth was something he couldn’t resist.

He ached to be close to her but dared not show it. Perhaps only when he was gravely ill would Qin Chanyue willingly draw this close to him.

In the past, he had been so far from her, left with nothing but old memories to chew over. But now, she was so near—so near that her proximity stirred in him countless greedy, forbidden thoughts.

He couldn’t even control himself. If keeping her in the dark meant she would visit him more often, he was willing to do it.

The Deputy General knelt by the bed. When he heard the prince say, "Don't tell her," he instinctively lifted his gaze—only to find the prince still watching Qin Chanyue’s back.

The Deputy General’s lips pressed tightly together. Having followed the prince for years, he had some understanding of his lord’s thoughts. Seeing him like this, he tentatively offered, "First Miss has not fared well since her marriage. The Marquis of Zhongyi has wronged her. Given her temperament, if not for his grave illness, she might have run him through. Once the Marquis dies, First Miss is still young—perhaps in the future—"

Perhaps she would marry again.

Chu Hang finally withdrew his gaze.

He fixed the Deputy General with a heavy stare, the edge in his gaze making the man stiffen. Realizing his mistake, the Deputy General quickly lowered his head, awaiting punishment.

"Twenty military lashes for speaking out of turn about the lady," the prince said after a pause. "Leave."

The Deputy General answered quietly and swiftly exited the room.

Left alone in the quiet, Chu Hang’s gaze drifted once more, seeking Qin Chanyue’s figure.

But she was gone.

He didn’t know where she had gone.

His eyes lowered as he lay quietly on the bed.

Perhaps because the pretense had been too convincing, his body truly felt weak, his strained mind growing hazy. In that fleeting haze, he recalled a time long past—when he had once dreamed of marrying Qin Chanyue, only for her to flatly refuse his adoptive father.

That was how he knew—Qin Chanyue would never love him.

First Miss could remarry in the future.

But not him. He wasn't worthy either.

He had used too much poison, leaving his body far from healthy. He would never have children, and his old wounds were too numerous, making it uncertain when he might simply fade away like the wind. A man like him could never give Qin Chanyue a full, happy life.

She didn’t care for men like him. She preferred gentle scholars, poetry and literature, men like the Marquis of Zhongyi—refined and noble. As for him—

He opened his hand, staring at his palm, scarred and calloused, then slowly withdrew it back beneath the quilt.

It didn’t matter. Better her heart belonged to another.

On the day he died, she wouldn’t grieve. Centuries later, their names would be remembered together—whenever Qin Chanyue was mentioned, her foster brother would inevitably follow. That was enough.

In the vast wilderness of the southern border, amidst swarms of venomous creatures, the most generous and purest love bloomed.

And Qin Chanyue knew nothing of it.

She never knew the weight of his love.