Chapter 59: The Luo People’s Prodigy

Chapter 59: The Enigmatic Luo Tribesman

Ling Yehan’s entire body was flushed a deep, alarming red, his blood surging through his veins like an untamed stallion. Every muscle was taut, his movements growing increasingly swift. Xiao Chen’s breathing quickened, his chest heaving more noticeably. His fingers gripped Ling Yehan’s waist tightly, and from the look on Ling Yehan’s face, it was clear the medicine had begun to take effect. His voice was a ragged whisper:

“Ah… the needles…”

Ling Yehan fought against the chaotic energy that threatened to tear him apart, grabbing the golden needles prepared by the bedside. Tiantu, Qimen, and Zhongwan—all acupoints on the chest and abdomen. As a martial artist, he was intimately familiar with acupoints. Even in this state, he accurately inserted the three needles into their respective points. These needles, thicker than standard acupuncture needles but much shorter, were specifically designed for bloodletting. Almost immediately upon insertion, dark, murky blood began to flow.

The acupoints Fengmen and Xinshu, however, were on his back. Cold sweat beaded on Xiao Chen’s temples, his entire body trembling slightly from the rapid movements. He held two golden needles between his fingers, feeling the rising desire about to reach its peak. At that critical moment, his grip on Ling Yehan’s waist tightened abruptly, pulling Ling Yehan almost entirely onto him. Gathering his strength in his fingertips, Xiao Chen swiftly inserted the two needles into the Fengmen and Xinshu points.

Their sweat-slicked bodies pressed tightly together. Ling Yehan embraced the person in his arms firmly, holding nothing back. Xiao Chen’s arms slipped weakly to his sides, his neck arching backward as his body convulsed momentarily. Overwhelming ecstasy flooded his senses, nearly drowning his consciousness.

Ling Yehan’s blood dripped onto the bright yellow bed, blossoming like dark winter plums. Whether from release or the bloodletting, the restless, agitated energy finally began to calm, allowing Ling Yehan to finally catch his breath. Xiao Chen panted, still recovering, his body sticky with sweat and too weak to even lift a hand. Yet he remembered Xu Yuanli’s earlier words—this troublesome one needed not only bloodletting but also acupuncture. He nudged Ling Yehan with his foot:

“Call someone in to attend to us.”

Ling Yehan called out, and Zhang Fu, who had been waiting outside, immediately entered with others.

Both Xiao Chen and Ling Yehan were drenched in sweat. The bedding on the imperial bed was a crumpled mess, stained with Ling Yehan’s blood. This was the first time such a scene had unfolded on Xiao Chen’s dragon bed.

Along with Zhang Fu, Xu Yuanli also entered. Unlike the chief eunuch, he lacked the same composure. He nearly wished he could blind himself on the spot upon seeing the scene. He stood holding his medical case just outside the curtains, not daring to lift his eyes even slightly.

“I will bathe,” Xiao Chen said, his expression already returning to normal, though the flush on his cheeks and body had not yet faded. Zhang Fu immediately helped him down from the bed. Ling Yehan wanted to follow but was stopped by Xu Yuanli:

“The Marquis needs immediate acupuncture.”

He reluctantly relented.

The bed was now unusable. Xiao Chen, who valued cleanliness, required the attendants to quickly change the bedding while he bathed. Ling Yehan had to lie prone on the couch, letting Xu Yuanli work.

After bathing, Xiao Chen changed into clean sleepwear and was assisted out by Zhang Fu. He saw Ling Yehan lying on the couch, pricked all over like a pincushion—truly, from head to toe. Still concerned, he looked at Xu Yuanli:

“Is he in serious condition?”

“Your Majesty, if the acupuncture continues for three days straight, he should recover fully.”

Ling Yehan, lying face down on the couch, spoke bitterly:

“Which damned bastard poisoned me with something this vicious?”

It seemed aimed at destroying his lower body entirely.

Xiao Chen glanced down at him:

“This poison probably wasn’t meant for you.”

Ling Yehan, tormented by the feverish restlessness in the woodshed, hadn’t had the energy to think earlier. Now he suddenly recalled that when he was vomiting blood, imperial guards had reported others in the prison showing similar symptoms. That meant someone had targeted the guests at Qinghui Pavilion, and he was just unlucky enough to be caught in it? So much had happened so quickly tonight that he only now had time to reflect. Lifting his head—the only part of him he could move—he said:

“Brother, those who visit Qinghui Pavilion are likely connected to court officials. Tomorrow, you might have unwanted visitors.”

Qinghui Pavilion was not a place ordinary people could afford. Its patrons were all high-ranking officials and nobles. With the arrests at the Ministry of Justice carried out under the pretext of capturing the assassins who targeted the Emperor, many would likely come to the palace early the next morning to plead for mercy or confess.

Xiao Chen looked weary but still summoned Xing Fang:

“Have you compiled the list of those in the prison?”

Xing Fang presented a memorial. Xiao Chen unrolled it, his expression darkening further.

“Today, apart from the staff of Qinghui Pavilion, thirty-four guests were arrested. Among them, there are three seventh-rank officials, five fifth-rank officials, two fourth-rank officials, three Centurions (military officers), two Thousand Household officers, and the remaining nineteen are all legitimate sons, illegitimate sons, or in-laws of various court officials. This includes three heirs to earldoms and two sons of ducal households.”

“Thirty-four is not enough—we must add one more: our first-rank Marquis of Jingbian. This small Qinghui Pavilion truly attracts no commoners.”

Xiao Chen coldly closed the memorial and smacked it against Ling Yehan’s head.

Ling Yehan flinched and ducked:

“Brother, look at the state I’m in. Please spare me.”

“Serves you right.”

Xiao Chen ignored him:

“How are the prisoners doing?”

Xing Fang lowered his head and replied:

“The physicians have already examined them. They performed acupuncture and bloodletting, and… along with the prisoners taking matters into their own hands, supplemented by silver needles, the physicians said that even if there are some aftereffects, they shouldn’t be left completely impotent.”

The method to cure this poison is bloodletting during intercourse. Doing it alone would inevitably lead to some side effects. However, Ling Yehan didn’t care about those debauched lot in the prison. But when he thought about the fact that Xiao Chen was the one who cured him, he felt as if he had eaten two pounds of honey and three pounds of cheap liquor—his whole body felt giddy and lightheaded. He even forgot his earlier intention to find the poisoner. His brother was truly good to him; his brother loved him. Thinking this, he couldn’t suppress the smile on his face.

Xing Fang, with his head lowered, happened to catch the genuine smile on Ling Yehan’s face. But he had reason to smile. While the others poisoned faced an uncertain future, this lord was cured by the Emperor himself. Such a scenario was something even storytellers wouldn’t dare make up.

Xiao Chen slightly closed his eyes:

“When I founded this dynasty, I issued an edict forbidding officials from frequenting brothels. Over the years, I haven’t had the time to enforce it, and it seems those below assumed the decree was as worthless as scrap paper from the previous dynasty. Today serves as a lesson.”

The time for the needles came out for Ling Yehan. Xu Yuanli stepped forward to remove the silver needles from his body. Ling Yehan had not bathed since earlier, and Xiao Chen couldn’t stand the slightest smell of sweat:

“Go bathe quickly. You reek of sweat.”

Ling Yehan went to the back to use the Emperor’s personal hot spring. Only after his figure disappeared behind the screen did Xiao Chen look up and speak:

“Did we get anything out of that Luo tribesman?”

Xing Fang’s thoughts returned to half an hour earlier.

Outside the courtyard of the Dali Temple backyard, Xing Fang had just seen off the Emperor and the Marquis of Jingbian when his long-serving subordinate came to report:

“Commander Xing, I’ve put that man in a separate room. But no matter what I ask, he says nothing. Seems like he might be mute.”

Xing Fang frowned slightly:

“I’ll go take a look.”

The confinement room was a guest room in the Dali Temple backyard, which was even better than the woodshed where the Marquis had been held earlier. At least it had a bed and a table. The man brought from Qinghui Pavilion was not bound but sat leaning against the bed. The sheer gauze robe he wore in the pavilion’s pool had been changed, and he now wore a coarse linen gown they had hastily found for him.

His black hair was left unbound, cascading down his back. His face was pale from long absence from sunlight, and his lowered eyes cast faint shadows. His nose was slender yet well-defined, and the only striking color on his face was the vermilion red on his lips. Even with just this single highlight and dressed in coarse cloth, his exceptional beauty remained undeniable. Xing Fang’s gaze briefly avoided his face and scanned downward. His frame was extremely thin, but his abdomen was noticeably distended. Recalling the rumors he had heard upon entering Qinghui Pavilion, it seemed highly likely this man was of the same ethnicity as the Emperor.

Xing Fang waved his hand slightly, and the people behind him withdrew, closing the door.

Xing Fang stepped forward. The dim candlelight on the table cast his tall shadow toward the bed, enveloping the slender figure completely:

“I am Imperial Guard Commander Xing Fang.”

After saying this, he fell silent. The man on the bed slowly raised his eyes after a moment. His eyes seemed to hold a deadly vortex, with black and white contours exuding a captivating, soul-stirring beauty. He calmly met the gaze of the man before him. Though looking up, his eyes carried the contempt and mockery of a deity looking down upon a foolish and greedy race. Yet, after a moment, he saw no desire or greed for his body in this man’s eyes. It had been a long time since he had seen such righteous, almost rigid eyes—so much so that he felt like plucking them out to keep as treasures.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, as if urging him to continue.

“I am here by imperial decree to interrogate you. A physician will arrive shortly to take your pulse.”

Qing Li did not seem surprised. He had been gazing into these eyes all along, and for the sake of these eyes, he spoke for the first time:

“No need to waste your efforts.”

His voice was as clear and crisp as a mountain spring, causing Commander Xing to momentarily lose his train of thought. However, he had no right to refuse. Soon, the imperial physician arrived. Commander Xing lowered the bed curtain, hiding the figure within, but firmly grasped his wrist:

“Apologies.”

That wrist was as cold as ice, yet it did not struggle in the slightest. Commander Xing turned to the physician:

“I appreciate your help.”

The physician sat down and placed his hand on the pulse point, but after a moment, he withdrew his hand abruptly, his expression stiffening as he looked at Commander Xing:

“Commander Xing, this… this person is dead.”

Commander Xing was stunned:

“Gone where?”

If it weren’t for the imperial decree, the physician would have thought the Imperial Guard Commander was playing a joke on him in the middle of the night. There was not the slightest pulse on that wrist—clearly deceased. He had already gone to the underworld—where else could he have gone?

Commander Xing immediately grabbed the wrist again. The icy-cold pulse point indeed showed no sign of a pulse. He quickly pulled back the curtain, only to meet a pair of eyes that seemed to mock him with a faint smile, as if confirming his earlier words—don’t waste your efforts. He was astonished. Even the most skilled martial artists could only hold their breath for a limited time, but it was impossible to completely suppress their pulse. Meeting those eyes once more, he felt an odd familiarity.