Chapter 70

Chapter 70

The Young Marquis wasn't actually sure who this 'Wurle' was; he was just testing the waters for now.

After all, in the original book, only two characters with forehead markings were mentioned by name—one was Wen Yu, and the other was the Former Crown Prince.

The young man suddenly felt a twinge of regret. If only he hadn't been hit by the golden powder right now—what a rare opportunity this was. He could have gotten a much better look than last time.

Was it a cinnabar mole or a phoenix pattern? Was it the same as Wen Yu's?

The Former Crown Prince was already dead. His name was Que Jinyu, and "Que" was, after all, a royal surname. Although this envoy from Zhao had concealed his identity, it was unlikely his real name was connected to that. Could it be connected to Wen Yu's origins instead?

He seemed to have a vague idea about his own escape plan, but how could that be? Was he a transmigrator too?

Luo Qianyu tentatively and silently offered a code phrase: "...Odd changes to even, unchanged?"

Wurle: "..."

Young Marquis: "Imperial Palace Jade Wine?"

Wurle: "..."

Young Marquis: "Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron?"

Wurle: "..."

Still no response whatsoever.

Just as the Young Marquis's thoughts were running wild, the masked man just tucked his hand back, his voice indifferent and low: "You'll aggravate the wound."

Luo Qianyu: "..."

This clam.

Out of so many questions, he didn't intend to answer a single one.

The sounds of fighting from the palace path faded into the distance. As Wurle carried him through the chaos, his steps were steady as if moving through unoccupied territory.

Soon, he would be handed over to the Da Xi imperial guards who had spotted them in the distance.

"W-wait a moment!"

The Young Marquis's voice faltered slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing: "Just one question."

"Did you come to the capital as an envoy of Zhao this time... for my sake?"

The haze of the rebellion slowly cleared. The palace path was a mess, with bloodstains and scattered weapons marking the fierce battle that had just taken place. The rebels had all been captured or killed.

The youth heard Wurle's low voice.

"...Yes."

The masked man finally released his hold on the Young Marquis. Under the aim of several crossbows, he wordlessly stepped back, allowing the Da Xi officers to come forward and take the Young Marquis back.

The rebellion had been quelled. The assassins were either dead or had surrendered; the remaining captives were shackled with iron chains and escorted to the dungeons, awaiting subsequent interrogation and sentencing. However, the imperial guards had also suffered heavy losses.

Fortunately, the emperor and the important ministers present were unharmed. The elder ministers, still shaken and pale, wore grave expressions. The young scholars, who were in the palace for the first time, had never seen such a bloody scene. They were all terrified, faces ashen.

Some hid behind palace pillars, panting heavily; others, upon seeing the blood, couldn't help but turn away and retch, completely losing the composure they had shown at the earlier celebration banquet.

Imperial Guard Battalion Commander Lord Luo had been slashed in the leg during the fight with the assassins. It was said his trouser leg was soaked through with blood, yet he still fought his way out desperately. Fortunately, though it looked frightening, it hadn't hit any vital areas, and his life was not in danger.

The commander of the imperial guards, knowing disaster loomed, wore an extremely grim expression as he sternly ordered his subordinates to clean up the scene.

The Young Marquis was among those severely injured.

When the youth was supported back to the palace by the officers, he could barely stand. Though the penetrating wound on his shoulder had been bandaged promptly, blood still seeped out faintly. He also had sword wounds and bruises on his body.

More distressing was that, having been blinded by the golden powder scattered by the assassins, his eyes were now red and tearing, completely unable to open.

The imperial physician hurried over to examine him and, after the diagnosis, said, "The Marquis's injuries require quiet recuperation; he must not be moved about."

Not long after, the emperor issued an edict ordering Luo Qianyu to remain in the palace to recuperate from his injuries. He was settled in a side hall of the Eastern Palace.

The imperial physician added more detailed instructions: "Just these eyes alone will require at least a month of quiet rest before they can see again, not to mention the sword wounds on his body that haven't healed—he must be carefully nursed back to health."

Luo Qianyu felt as if the sky had fallen.

The Eastern Palace wasn't a place just anyone could enter—even his own father couldn't. His father only came to visit him on the first day. For the following days, he would be alone. How was he supposed to endure this?

The youth lay on the bed once used by the crown prince, tossing an apple into the air and catching it firmly.

Not only was the Young Marquis recuperating in the Eastern Palace, but he would also have to stay for over half a month before his eyes recovered. As he carefully sorted through his thoughts, he vaguely recalled that the original book did indeed mention this assassin incident, but since it had little to do with Wen Yu, it was glossed over in a single stroke, making it hard to recall clearly.

But he still remembered this passage—"The Young Marquis was injured in an attack in the palace and needed to recuperate in the Eastern Palace. His personal guard did not have to attend him closely. That was the most relaxed and pleasant period for the protagonist shou."

Luo Qianyu: "..."

Yes, he was injured, and Wen Yu would surely be happy too.

After all, he couldn't enter the Eastern Palace and didn't have to accompany him anymore.

For some reason, the youth felt intensely stifled. The side hall of the Eastern Palace was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and it was very spacious, making it all the more boring. Luo Qianyu leaned against the soft pillow, turned over in a huff, and immediately jostled the wound on his shoulder, causing a dull ache.

His eyes were covered with a layer of white silk, leaving his vision only a blurry darkness, so his hearing became exceptionally sharp.

At that moment, footsteps approached from afar—steady, carrying an unmistakable pressure.

This was not the sound of ordinary palace servants walking. The Young Marquis was taken aback, his body stiffening, his heart inexplicably lifting.

He instinctively tried to push himself up from the edge of the bed, but he had barely moved when a warm hand pressed him down.

"Injured like this, and still trying to perform formalities?" The emperor's voice sounded from above him.

Luo Qianyu's eyelashes fluttered slightly. He simply lay back down, even sinking deeper into the soft pillow, his posture quite at ease.

After all, he was a wounded patient now. Surely the emperor wouldn't hold a blind, sword-injured young marquis to strict etiquette.

But the very next second, the emperor's words made his face burn hot.

"Will you still sneak away from banquets to go play from now on?"

"It wasn't sneaking away. I informed the master of ceremonies," the Young Marquis couldn't help but argue, a touch of youthful stubbornness in his voice. "...And I wasn't going to play. When nature calls, one must answer. I went to relieve myself."

The man let out a light chuckle. "Relieving yourself on the roof of the waterside pavilion?"

Luo Qianyu's throat tightened.

Indeed... who would climb onto a pavilion roof to relieve themselves? At the time, he had merely found the banquet stifling and wanted to avoid poetry. He happened to remember the telescope hidden in the waterside pavilion and thought to go up and watch the fireworks. Who could have guessed he'd run into assassins? The Young Marquis had no way to argue further, so he simply fell silent.

The hall fell silent for a moment. Suddenly, the emperor shifted the topic, his voice deepening with a hint of coldness: "Those rebels have been taken to the Zhaoyu and interrogated one by one. The hook, the comb, and the pipa were all used, yet not a single word was forced out of them."

A chill ran through Luo Qianyu's palms, and he remained silent.

"Did they say anything when they assassinated you on the roof?"

Luo Qianyu's heart tightened abruptly, as if gripped by something. He composed himself and slowly shook his head: "No."

The assassins had mentioned events from three years ago, clearly damaging to the Young Marquis. If the emperor learned that the assassins behind this rebellion were connected to him, not only would he himself be implicated, but the entire Luo family would also face interrogation.

Blind as he was, he could swear he felt the emperor's gaze upon him.

It was a calm gaze, yet it seemed to pierce through the white silk bandage, straight into his heart. The youth involuntarily held his breath.

The emperor suddenly asked, "Do you know that envoy from Zhao?"

Luo Qianyu's throat worked as he tried to keep his voice natural: "No, I only met him once at the martial arts contest during the welcoming banquet."

The emperor chuckled softly, "I haven't even said which one."

Luo Qianyu's heart sank.

Suddenly, he felt an urge to flee.

A terrifying silence descended upon the hall.

Luo Qianyu suddenly let out a low groan: "...It hurts."

The emperor clearly hadn't expected the young man to say this so abruptly and was momentarily stunned. The Young Marquis heard the emperor rise, footsteps approaching the bed: "Where does it hurt?"

But the Young Marquis didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed the quilt, covering even his head, isolating himself within and blocking out the Dog Emperor's voice. He mumbled, "My eyes, my shoulders, my legs... everything hurts... Your Majesty, please stop asking. Your questions are giving your subject a headache."

The emperor: "..."

After a moment of silence, an extremely soft laugh escaped the emperor's throat, tinged with a hint of helplessness.

"Take the quilt off. What sort of manners are these?"

"..." Luo Qianyu silently and slowly removed the quilt but didn't fully uncover himself. He kept it over his lips and the tip of his nose, revealing only his eyes, still covered by the white silk bandage.

His nose and lips remained hidden behind the soft brocade, like a turtle half-retracted into its shell.

Looking at him like this, the emperor's voice softened slightly as he said in a low tone, "Just rest and recover peacefully. There's no need to hurry back to duties. You don't need to attend the capping ceremony next month. As for the official appointment, I will arrange a good post for you."

The person under the quilt clearly paused. His previously wilted spirit seemed to ignite in an instant. Luo Qianyu almost immediately lifted the remaining corner of the quilt. Though he couldn't see, his ears perked up as he asked, "Your Majesty, what position?"

But the emperor didn't tell him.

Luo Qianyu wanted to ask more, but a low announcement from a eunuch came from outside the side hall, indicating urgent matters to report. The emperor said nothing further, only adding, "Take good care of yourself and recover."

Then he rose and left.

It was only after the soft click of the hall door closing that Luo Qianyu let out a silent sigh. He turned onto his side, the movement tugging at the wound on his shoulder and making him groan softly, before he quietly shifted back.

He was a Second-Rank Jinshi graduate. According to custom, official appointments typically meant prestigious but idle positions like Hanlin Compiler, Hanlin Proofreader, or Hanlin Editor. Slightly less desirable ones involved being sent out to serve as a county magistrate or assistant magistrate, starting from the grassroots level. But based on the original story's plot, that was unlikely. However, what did the emperor mean by a "good post"?

Luo Qianyu touched the white silk bandage over his eyes, his mind in disarray. He wasn't overly concerned about the official appointment—it would likely be one of those options anyway. What truly unsettled him was the upcoming capping ceremony.

To placate his injured heir, the emperor had graciously granted special permission for the ceremony to be held in the palace. Wen Yu was also specially pardoned to attend. The Young Marquis, ever resourceful and having long harbored plans, finally couldn't restrain himself and slipped him an aphrodisiac that day.

Later, not only did things not go as planned, but the emperor also thwarted him.

After the aphrodisiac incident, the Young Marquis's main storyline would be nearly complete. In a few months, once he went to the battlefield, he could prepare to make his exit.

After the emperor left, life in the Eastern Palace became nothing but long, drawn-out silence.

The palace servants attending him were all strangers, speaking softly, going about their tasks with extreme caution, and even walking with careful, light steps, afraid of disturbing this young heir who couldn't see and was severely injured.

Neither the original soul of this body nor the Young Marquis were patient by nature. Now confined to bed, unable to see anyone, and deprived of entertaining operas or storybooks to pass the time, the days felt like a simmering pot of medicine—agonizingly slow.

One day, he sank into a heavy, drowsy sleep. In that half-dreaming, half-waking state, he suddenly felt a cool sensation on the side of his neck.

The touch was light, slightly damp and cold, as if someone's palm had rested against his neck.

Fingertips brushed past his side, lifting a stray lock of hair. The person seemed to lean down and gently sniff it.

When Luo Qianyu woke up, he realized it had been a dream, but there really was someone beside him.

Because his nose caught a scent first—the smell of blood, mixed with hints of iron and medicinal herbs, so familiar it made his heart skip a beat.

Sure enough, Luo Shifu spoke: "Brother."

The person carried a chill, as if he had just returned from outside.

Luo Qianyu was exasperated by this Jinyiwei Battalion Commander. He couldn't help but say, "How long have you been here? Like some ghost, why didn't you say anything?"

Luo Shifu's voice was low, very close, as if he were sitting right by the bed. "I saw Brother was asleep and didn't want to disturb you."

Luo Qianyu snorted, "Seeing me in such a sorry state, you must be gloating, right? Did you specially request His Majesty's permission to enter the Eastern Palace to see me? Not only did you come without permission, but you didn't even wash off the smell on you. Have you even forgotten basic decorum?"

Seeing his younger brother rendered speechless by his teasing, the young man paused, his tone growing even more mischievous: "It seems you just came from the Zhaoyu, too rushed to change before eagerly coming to see me. A man of your stature, a Battalion Commander, injured in the leg yet still going to interrogate people. It seems His Majesty doesn't value you much? I heard you used every torture method on those rebels? Truly living up to your nicknames—the Grim Reaper, Blood-Handed Fourth Son... someone who settles scores on the spot... hmm!"

Before he could finish, he was suddenly embraced.

The grip wasn't too strong, but it was firm, carefully avoiding his injuries, carrying the other's lingering chill and that faint, elusive scent of blood.

Luo Shifu's voice was right by his ear, somewhat deep: "Brother."

Luo Qianyu was confused: "?"

"That night at the waterside pavilion of Bozhou Hall, when Brother's eyes were injured, you suddenly risked jumping to another roof. Was it to draw the assassins away and protect me?"

Luo Qianyu was taken aback.

He was at a loss for words: "That wasn't it. You... why are you reading too much into it?"

"You're lying," Luo Shifu's voice was soft.

Warm breath brushed against the shell of his ear. Luo Qianyu instinctively turned his head to avoid it. He couldn't see Luo Shifu's expression, but the firm embrace and the close proximity made him feel inexplicably flustered.

His ears grew warm uncontrollably—they were sensitive to begin with—and even the wound on his shoulder felt somewhat heated.

"Brother, don't you hate me? Why did you save me?" Luo Shifu's voice pressed close to his ear, carrying a stubborn curiosity.

The Young Marquis's heart skipped a beat at the question. Pretending to be calm, he pushed him away slightly and retorted disdainfully, "The situation was critical. Jumping to another roof was indeed a last resort, but it was only for self-preservation. Of course I hate you. I never intended to save you."

Luo Shifu chuckled softly. The Young Marquis was slightly stunned, not understanding, but then heard the young man say, "Then continue to hate me."

The Young Marquis's brow furrowed slightly, not grasping the meaning.

Then the youth said, "I brought a gift for you, Brother."

"A gift?" Luo Qianyu was slightly taken aback. He wondered skeptically, what good thing could someone as unromantic as Luo Shifu possibly bring?

"Mm, something to relieve boredom."

No sooner had he spoken than something furry nuzzled the back of his hand, followed by a tiny whine. Before Luo Qianyu could react, his cheek was brushed by something soft and fluffy. Then his nose tingled; he'd been licked.

He quickly lifted a hand to fend it off, his fingertips touching a warm, moist tongue and fluffy fur. He asked in surprise, "Did you bring Yunshan over?"

It never occurred to him that Luo Shifu would bring him the little wolf.

Luo Qianyu: "..."

Thanks a lot. An injured man still has to be forced to babysit.

After all, a wolf cub is still a cub.

However, with Yunshan around, life in the Eastern Palace was indeed more bearable.

When Luo Qianyu was bored out of his mind, he would reach out and feel around for the little wolf. Yunshan rarely left his side. People say that cubs have a clingy phase with their owners, but as they gradually grow up, their temperament becomes aloof—especially for a species as fearsome as the Arctic Wolf.

It was hard to imagine what Yunshan would look like when fully grown.

Occasionally, he would mischievously block Yunshan's nostrils.

When it couldn't breathe, the little wolf would lift its tiny paws to paw at his fingers, sometimes nuzzling his palm with its wet nose, tickling him and making him chuckle softly.

Just over half a month had passed since they last met, but the little wolf seemed to have grown a bit. Though still a soft, fluffy cub, the little creature that could once be easily scooped up with one hand now sometimes required both hands to hold.

Luo Qianyu couldn't see, so he could only judge by touch, silently wondering, at this rate, how big will it grow in the future?

...

Gradually, more than half a month passed.

The Young Marquis lay in the chamber, momentarily speechless.

The white silk blindfold still couldn't be removed. He couldn't see the outside world, not even perceive the changing seasons. But with Yunshan by his side, he wasn't entirely alone.

Yet he always felt something was missing.

This emptiness made it impossible for him to find peace, leaving him restless and even somewhat distressed.

But he couldn't pinpoint the reason.

The little wolf was curled up asleep at his feet.

The side hall of the Eastern Palace was quiet. The scent of medicine mixed with faint calming incense lingered in his nose. Luo Qianyu half-reclined on a soft pillow, his eyes still blindfolded with white silk. He could only tilt his head slightly and gently stroke, by feel, the head of the little wolf at his feet.

Yunshan dozed at his feet, a fluffy ball rising and falling gently with each breath.

Suddenly, the little wolf's ears perked up.

Luo Qianyu paused his movements. Though he couldn't see, he could clearly sense the cub jerk its head up, holding it straight and alert, its nose twitching slightly as its body tensed toward a certain direction.

Then, Yunshan sat up completely, its small body held rigidly straight.

Luo Qianyu felt for the wolf's paw and gave it a squeeze, finding Yunshan completely still, as if intently watching a particular spot, even baring its tiny fangs slightly.

"...Yunshan?" Luo Qianyu's voice lowered, his heart inexplicably tightening.

Guessing from the direction the little wolf's head was facing, it was likely straight toward the window of the inner hall.

Arctic wolves weren't ordinary pets but wild beasts with extremely high alertness. Their genes carried an innate wariness of their surroundings and a sharp sensitivity to enemies. Moreover, over the past half-month, palace servants had come and gone constantly, yet Yunshan had never acted like this before.

Alertness instantly crawled up his spine. Luo Qianyu propped himself up and sat straighter.

Just then, an extremely faint sound reached his ears—like fabric brushing against a window lattice, or wind sweeping fallen leaves past—yet it carried an indescribable eeriness.

Again?

It couldn't be.

Coming to kill me!?

Luo Qianyu's fingertips grew cold.

Guards were stationed outside the hall, and patrolling servants were on the palace paths. With layers of protection, how could the intruder have infiltrated so silently, without making a single sound... This skill seemed even more formidable than the assassins he had encountered before.

The surrounding candlelight seemed to flicker, but to Luo Qianyu's eyes, it was nothing but impenetrable darkness. The unease in his heart grew wildly like vines.

"Go."

Without further hesitation, Luo Qianyu groped around and scooped up the little wolf at his feet.

Fortunately, the original host's memories of the Eastern Palace were extremely familiar. Relying on instinct, he turned and moved, counting his steps. The patterns of the floor tiles, the positions of the beams and pillars—all were precisely as he remembered. Soon, he felt the wooden frame of the rear window in the inner hall.

The windowsill wasn't low. He stood on tiptoe, gripping the edge, his palms touching the damp chill of the night dew. The little wolf in his arms didn't struggle. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly, and prepared to leap down—

Suddenly, his waist was seized!

Luo Qianyu's heart leaped violently. Before he could even cry out, his entire body fell into a firm, warm embrace. The sudden support made him instinctively clutch the other's lapel.

An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in swiftly and steadily. Supported by a solid force, his suspended body was firmly held, even causing the little wolf in his arms to let out a muffled "yip."

Luo Qianyu froze in place, his nose buried against the other's neck, catching a familiar, faint scent.

In the darkness, his senses were amplified infinitely. The embrace was broad and steady; even through the fabric, he could feel the other's calm heartbeat, thumping rhythmically against his eardrum.

...

It was Wen Yu!

His heart pounded wildly. Panic hadn't yet faded, but what overwhelmed him was disbelief and astonishment.

He couldn't see Wen Yu's face, but he could clearly feel the steady strength of the other's arm, holding him securely. Even the earlier surge of unease was somewhat subdued.

"You... how did you...!"

The Young Marquis's throat tightened, his voice breathless with light panting, his fingertips turning white from the force of his grip. "How did you get in?"

Wait, how did the protagonist shou enter the palace?

The palace walls were towering, guards were everywhere—how did Wen Yu sneak in?

Just how skilled was Wen Yu in martial arts?

"Are you insane? This is the Eastern Palace!... The imperial guards have layers of defenses. Without a jade token, how did you get in?"

The person in his arms kept pressing, but the protagonist shou didn't answer. Instead, as he tightened his embrace, the little wolf was squeezed out, letting out an "awoo" as it tumbled into the grass.

In his arms, the Young Marquis—blindfolded with white silk, unable to see, his head tilted slightly—heard his own guard's low, steady voice the next moment:

"Did the young master miss this subordinate?"