Chapter 32 Heartache

Chapter 32: Heart Sickness

The candlelight was dim. Xiao Yunlang's mask lay on the table, its shadow trembling slightly with the flickering flame.

"After the Lantern Festival banquet, I told you that from now on, you have to put yourself first," Xiao Yunlang said, trying his best to keep his voice calm and steady. "You agreed at the time."

Jiang Yanzhou, with an outer robe draped over his shoulders, was still thinking about the assassins and didn't understand why the topic had suddenly shifted.

When he looked up, he looked a little lost, but he obediently went along with what Xiao Yunlang was saying. "I have been thinking of myself. After the Lantern Festival banquet, I've been careful about my meals, medicine, and rest."

Xiao Yunlang: "I'm not just talking about daily life."

"Just now, you... you apologized to me," Xiao Yunlang said, mustering all his strength to keep his voice level again. "Weren't you afraid of getting hurt if the guards failed to stop the arrow? You were only worried about my identity being exposed. Was that all you thought about?"

The more Xiao Yunlang spoke, the harder it became to keep his voice steady. Yet, he met Jiang Yanzhou's gaze.

Young Master Jiang's eyes were like pools of water, capable of speaking volumes. But at this moment, they held a very faint question: ...What else?

He didn't see any problem, so he wasn't guilty or evasive, just utterly candid.

Just like after the poison acted up at the Lantern Festival night banquet, the look he gave Xiao Yunlang had been the same.

The young lord was just genuinely confused: What's the problem?

Xiao Yunlang had always loved his eyes, but now he felt suffocated in that clear spring.

His throat tightened, and his knuckles turned white from clenching. "You think protecting my identity is more important than your own safety?"

Jiang Yanzhou felt the Crown Prince seemed a bit off, but before he could react, Xiao Yunlang continued, "Is the Prince of Jin taking a fall more important than you losing half your life?"

For a moment, Jiang Yanzhou couldn't tell if Xiao Yunlang was asking a question or stating a fact. He cautiously nodded. "...Yes."

That slight nod sent Xiao Yunlang's heart plunging into an icy abyss.

For most people, life is undoubtedly the most important thing. But humans are not unfeeling plants or trees. Driven by intense emotions or a sense of duty—be it admirable devotion or righteous patriotism—there are moments when something else takes precedence over life itself.

There's nothing wrong with that.

But Jiang Yanzhou was different.

His disregard for his own life wasn't fierce or dramatic; it didn't require justification. It was a terrifying, matter-of-fact normalcy.

What kind of person disregards themselves to such an extent?

Xiao Yunlang's throat moved with difficulty, his voice dry and hoarse. He leaned forward slightly. "...Haven't you ever thought that you are actually very important too?"

Jiang Yanzhou glanced at him lightly.

"But there are many things more important than me," Jiang Yanzhou said naturally.

*Crack!*

A dull, heavy sound suddenly rang out. Jiang Yanzhou was startled: What was that? Could there be assassins again?

But the sound was close; it didn't sound like it came from outside.

Xiao Yunlang abruptly let go of his clenched fist, the knuckles having made that startling crack. He found it hard to continue.

But he still couldn't give up. "I hope that even when things happen, you will think of protecting yourself first."

Jiang Yanzhou's demeanor remained as docile as ever. "As long as it doesn't interfere with important matters, I naturally will protect myself if I can."

And when you can't?

You just let it go?

You can struggle and fight for others, but for yourself, it's unnecessary, is that it?

Xiao Yunlang felt the same sense of powerlessness he had experienced during his first conversation with Jiang Yanzhou.

The difference was, back then, he was furious and frustrated, with nowhere to vent his anger. Now, he felt his heart being squeezed tight, a dense, suffocating ache.

It turned out the signs had been there all along, faint traces like grass snakes leaving trails in the dust, just unnoticed.

From the moment they met, Jiang Yanzhou had never hidden it, never changed.

He hadn't made peace with fate; he had simply never truly cared about his own life.

But he wasn't like Wei Wuyou, who wallowed in self-pity all day, wearing his suffering on his face and in his poetry, making people sigh and know he was troubled at heart.

Putting thoughts of life and death into writing is sometimes a struggle, a cry for help.

But Jiang Yanzhou had none of that.

He didn't think he had a problem. He didn't think he needed saving.

Everyone thought he was like an immortal banished from heaven, serene and aloof in his celestial palace, having seen through the vanity of the mortal world.

But behind him was a bottomless chasm, from which he could fall at any moment, silently shattering into pieces.

He had successfully deceived everyone.

And if one day he truly did fall, no one would discover the real reason for his departure: because Jiang Yanzhou's eyes had never truly held himself.

A three-foot layer of ice isn't formed in a single day; a terminal illness doesn't develop overnight.

If a heart's malady could be cured with a single sentence, no one would lament that it was incurable.

For the first time, even with a charcoal fire burning in the room, Xiao Yunlang felt his limbs turn cold.

He fell silent, making the room seem exceptionally quiet.

The shadows cast by the firelight seemed illusory.

But everything was real.

Everything Xiao Yunlang had discovered... was real.

Jiang Yanzhou, warmed by the cozy charcoal fire, was growing drowsy. He had been tired during the day, and the scare from the assassins at night, combined with the effects of the calming medicine, brought a wave of exhaustion crashing over him.

Jiang Yanzhou's eyelids grew heavy. He lifted his arm, rested it on the table, propped his cheek on his hand, and spoke with a hint of a nasal tone, "Those assassins..."

A storm raged in Xiao Yunlang's chest, unable to break free, churning within him. Looking at Jiang Yanzhou's drowsy state, he took a deep breath and pinched his palm.

"I won't leave yet. You go to sleep. We'll talk about anything else tomorrow."

Jiang Yanzhou nodded sluggishly, gathered the robe draped over him, and drifted with unsteady steps toward the bed. He lay down, his head touched the pillow, and his eyes closed.

Xiao Yunlang walked to the bedside. The candlelight cast shadows under his deep-set brow. He looked down for a while, then reached out to tuck the quilt snugly around Jiang Yanzhou. He extinguished the candle and turned to leave.

The mask on the table was pressed back onto his face, cold and hard, obscuring the Crown Prince's expression completely.

He strode outside, his breath, pent up inside the room, now heavy and labored.

The silent pressure from the Crown Prince cast a stillness over the surroundings; everyone lowered their heads, not daring to look directly at him.

After a long while, Xiao Yunlang finally moved again.

He ordered coldly, "Bring me paper and brush."

He had originally intended to take a quick look at Jiang Yanzhou before leaving, but after the incident with the assassins, he decided to stay put for now.

He needed to write to Feng Yi, instructing him to maintain the pretense that the Crown Prince was still with the convoy starting tomorrow—claiming that the Crown Prince had gotten sick of riding and would switch to traveling by carriage.

He also needed to write to Mu Baicao.

Jiang Yanzhou was ill—not in body, but in spirit.

Thankfully, he had discovered it in time.

There was still time.

Xiao Yunlang had promised to cure Jiang Yanzhou, and whether it was a physical ailment or a mental one, the Crown Prince would see it through to the end.

*

While traveling on the road, Jiang Yanzhou knew he couldn’t follow his regular wake-up time from the Crown Prince’s residence—that would be much too late.

So he had instructed Feng Lan to wake him when it was time.

But when the time came, Feng Lan never showed up.

With no one to wake him, Jiang Yanzhou naturally did not wake up.

Nor did he realize he had been carried onto the carriage, quilt and all.

The carriage should have been lurching and bumpy, but someone was there for him to lean against, cushioning him, and knew just where to brace to make the leaning more comfortable.

Thus, the jolting was gone, leaving only a gentle, rocking sway, slow and soothing.

Jiang Yanzhou slept deeply, nestled in the warmth, and in his dreams, there was a faint scent of wood—dry, elegant, and steady, which put him at ease.

Jiang Yanzhou curled up slightly.

...It smelled like Xiao Yunlang, he realized.

By the time Jiang Yanzhou woke up comfortably, the traveling party had already stopped to cook lunch over a fire.

Before even opening his eyes, Jiang Yanzhou smelled the aroma drifting in through the carriage window. Groggily, he tried to push himself up from the bed board, only to find his hands somewhat stuck, his movement restricted.

Was the quilt pinning them down?

Jiang Yanzhou worked one hand free from the quilt and felt around beside him—

Hmm? Something wasn’t right. He wasn't flat on his back; he was already half-sitting up. And what he was touching didn't feel right—his bed wasn’t this... hard?

Jiang Yanzhou opened his eyes, still hazy with sleep, blinked a few times to adjust to the light, and finally saw everything clearly.

He was wrapped in the quilt, leaning against Xiao Yunlang’s chest, and one of his hands was planted right on Xiao Yunlang’s chest.

Jiang Yanzhou: !?

"Your Highness, why—"

Wait.

Xiao Yunlang had said last night that he would stick around for a bit.

Last night, Xiao Yunlang had also helped him with his shoes.

No, not "seemed like"—it was real.

Jiang Yanzhou’s mind had been foggy late at night, but now, well-rested and clear-headed, those blurred images in the darkness suddenly sharpened into clarity.

Xiao Yunlang had helped him put on his shoes!!

Instantly, Jiang Yanzhou felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, making him dizzy.

He didn’t know how to react, instinctively wanting to hide himself first, so he shakily reached for the quilt.

But this time, he didn’t succeed.

Xiao Yunlang hooked the edge of the quilt and pulled it down, revealing the Crown Prince's Consort's entire flushed and beautiful face. "Aren’t you afraid of suffocating yourself?"

Jiang Yanzhou: "..."

He *was* feeling a little breathless.

But facing Xiao Yunlang now, he felt even more breathless.

Jiang Yanzhou closed his eyes helplessly, feeling Xiao Yunlang help him sit up. Only then did he realize there was something more important than closing his eyes.

He was still in Xiao Yunlang’s arms!

Jiang Yanzhou flailed his limbs, clutching the quilt as he scrambled to the other side of the long couch. He blinked rapidly, and he glanced at everything in the carriage—including the hem of Xiao Yunlang’s robe—

But he simply didn’t dare look at his face.

The Crown Prince watched Young Master Jiang's flustered state. In the past, he might have allowed himself a faint smile, but the weight of last night’s events still pressed heavily upon him, and he couldn’t bring himself to smile.

However, now that he had identified the root of the problem and made his decision, his sharp, tempered eyes were remarkably calm.

Xiao Yunlang put on his mask, summoned an attendant to help Jiang Yanzhou dress, and stepped out first, leaving him ample space.

Once outside the carriage, Xiao Yunlang heard the cooing of a pigeon flying toward him.

He carried special medicinal stones, so the pigeon zeroed in on him. Xiao Yunlang raised his hand to catch it and opened the message tube tied to its leg.

Although Mu Baicao had left the capital long ago, he wasn't far away and was staying in a village nearby. Thus, he had received Xiao Yunlang’s letter last night and sent the pigeon back with a reply early this morning.

Xiao Yunlang unrolled the small scroll.

Mu Baicao’s news wasn’t exactly good. He stated that if it truly was a case of melancholy or depression, the prognosis might not be good.

There were many types of depression, and to this day, there was no definitive answer as to which medicine worked best. If the cause was clear, such as lovesickness, and the solution was known, then along with medicine, it could be treated.

But some forms of depression had no clear cause and defied reason.

Mu Baicao had seen such cases before.

When he was ten, he followed his master to his master’s hometown and there met a descendant of his master’s clan.

The child was only about ten years old, young but already suffering from a melancholic ailment. It was then that Mu Baicao learned that melancholy manifests differently in everyone—not all sufferers are perpetually gloomy and unable to eat.

At the very least, the young clansman usually appeared no different from others and would even laugh and joke with them.

But sometimes, in the middle of laughing, he would suddenly be taken by a spell.

Without warning, and even without any external trigger, he would suddenly burst into tears, collapse into despair, and then speak of wanting to die in one way or another.

The first time Mu Baicao witnessed this, he was also startled. He couldn’t understand how a person who seemed fine could suddenly become like that.

He and his master worked together, trying their best to save this child.

Sedatives only treated the surface, not the source, and overuse made them less effective. Medicines to soothe the liver and clear heat were administered continuously, but they also had to watch for signs of physical depletion.

The children and adults in the clan, along with Mu Baicao, all went out of their way to lift his spirits. When he wasn’t having an episode, he was actually a cheerful person who loved to laugh.

Sometimes, Mu Baicao would even find himself laughing because of him.

They all felt that winter was always the hardest time. They all believed that if he could just make it through that winter, he’d be alright.

And indeed, he survived the winter.

But he passed on a day of warm spring blossoms.

He said he wanted to go see the flowers.

He sent everyone around him away, lay down among the flowers, and his eyes never opened again.

Blood stained the blossoms, and Mu Baicao couldn’t save him.

Mu Baicao sobbed, heartbroken. It was the first time he understood that even the best medicine couldn’t save everyone, but he had truly wanted to keep him alive.

There were still so many wonderful tales in the world that he hadn’t had time to finish telling him.

If only there were another chance… how wonderful that would be.

The past was lost to the unreachable wind, but for others, there is still time.

Mu Baicao said that some forms of melancholy come with restless sleep and loss of appetite. He had personally taken Jiang Yanzhou’s pulse and knew Jiang Yanzhou didn’t have those symptoms.

All the medicines Jiang Yanzhou could take had already been administered. If what remained was a burden on his heart, then a physician couldn’t prescribe any other medicine.

But hadn’t Xiao Yunlang noticed he was ill?

That he could see it meant there was a cause, unlike the child he couldn’t save before, who had a sickness of the spirit without any apparent reason.

A sickness of the spirit requires a remedy for the spirit.

If Jiang Yanzhou had been mistreated, he might be afraid of something, but the young master was quite fearless, showing no signs of fear.

Instead, when someone showed him kindness or praised him, he would feel happy, occasionally somewhat flustered, and sometimes hesitant to accept it.

Never having been loved, cherished, or even noticed, had he, over time, come to feel he was unimportant?

A young master from an illustrious family, who would even blush and thank a servant with shining eyes for a few kind words.

The Jiang family…

A cold glint flashed in Xiao Yunlang’s eyes.

A perfectly good person—ruined by their upbringing.

Xiao Yunlang folded the letter, smoothing the crease with a straight hand, making the paper as sharp as a blade.

If they didn’t know how to raise him, then he would.

If others couldn’t save him, then he would.

Feng Lan had mentioned Jiang Yanzhou’s whereabouts near Shuntian Prefecture, where he had been relaxing before Xu Wenzhi arrived in the capital.

Whether Jiang Yanzhou had known something in advance or was just lucky, he had saved Xu Wenzhi.

Feng Lan had remarked at the time that sometimes it felt like the young master wasn’t just a figure like an immortal but more and more like a little deity.

But deities wouldn’t write characters so clumsily and unevenly, nor would they be so delighted by ordinary things that they beamed with joy. Jiang Yanzhou was human.

Some people, so brilliant they seem almost divine, often seem to be claimed by heaven too soon.

Xiao Yunlang crushed the paper in his fist.

—He would not allow it.

Even if Jiang Yanzhou truly were a celestial being who had fallen to the mortal world, he would keep him here.

He had fought for his own life, and on the borders and in the court, he had fought for the lives of so many others. Now, helping Jiang Yanzhou battle against so-called destiny—what couldn’t he do? What wouldn’t he do?

Jiang Yanzhou had helped him so much; mere fine clothes, delicious food, and luxurious palaces were not enough.

Jiang Yanzhou was ill, he just didn’t know it.

He would be Jiang Yanzhou’s medicine.

*

Jiang Yanzhou had changed his clothes, and the attendant had braided his hair. Exhausted from yesterday and with palpitations from waking up startled at night, he was coughing a bit today.

Fortunately, it wasn’t serious. Since he was still on his medication, taking it as usual and getting a good night’s sleep should be fine.

But Jiang Yanzhou felt the situation was still rather serious.

Emperor Wu had helped him put on his shoes and even served as his sleeping cushion…

And it wasn’t a dream.

Jiang Yanzhou suddenly missed the fluffy collar of his cloak dearly because he really had nowhere to bury his face!

Help!

Maybe the physician should prescribe some heart medicine for him after all. If things continued like this, he felt his heart might not hold up.

Just as the imperial physician finished taking his pulse, Xiao Yunlang entered again, this time carrying a tray with food for two.

The imperial physician and attendants withdrew, leaving only the two of them in the carriage.

Without his mask, Xiao Yunlang appeared as composed as usual. The strange tone in his voice during a few sentences last night seemed like nothing more than Jiang Yanzhou’s hazy illusion in the darkness.

Having been apart for a while, Jiang Yanzhou’s embarrassment had eased considerably, though not entirely dissipated. He sat somewhat stiffly upright.

Xiao Yunlang first served him a bowl of soup and handed it over: “Since there have been assassins here, I’ll stay a few more days. When we’re close to Congzhou, I’ll hurry ahead to join the troops.”

Whenever serious matters were mentioned, Jiang Yanzhou’s wandering thoughts could be swept aside, and he immediately became less reserved.

Assuming Xiao Yunlang still wanted to look for clues along the way, Jiang Yanzhou accepted the soup bowl with a nod. "I think those assassins are actually a bit strange."

Xiao Yunlang said, "The timing."

That's right—timing. From Congzhou to the capital, if a single rider traveled nonstop on a fast horse, it'd take five days and nights.

How many days had passed since the imperial examination scandal broke? For the messages to be delivered and the manpower deployed... these assassins came far too quickly, as if they had been waiting all along.

This was strange.

In the original history, when Xiao Yunlang went to Congzhou to investigate the fraud case, he didn't know about the Congzhou Prefect and the Jiang family's involvement in smuggling tea. But if there had been such an assassination attempt, he would have suspected the entire Congzhou officialdom.

Had he investigated then, the tea smuggling wouldn't have only been discovered two years later.

But he didn't.

This meant that in the original timeline, there was no such assassination attempt.

Things had changed.

Jiang Yanzhou pursed his lips. "If we could find more clues..."

"We'll probably only find clues once we get to Congzhou," Xiao Yunlang said. "That's not why I'm staying."

Jiang Yanzhou: ?

Xiao Yunlang: "It's for you."

Jiang Yanzhou: ???

His eyes showed undisguised confusion and blankness. Xiao Yunlang continued, "I'm afraid you'll get hurt, frightened, sleep poorly, and fall ill."

*Plop.*

Jiang Yanzhou's porcelain spoon slipped from his hand and fell into the soup bowl.

Xiao Yunlang picked up a bowl of steamed egg custard and placed it in front of Jiang Yanzhou.

The porcelain made a soft sound as it touched the wooden table. The Crown Prince remained calm and composed, his words firm and deliberate: "You seem to easily misunderstand my words and still don't take yourself seriously."

"Then I guess I'll just have to care about you for you."

"Take your time."