Chapter 75

Chapter 75

The Young Marquis's consciousness drifted like a moon sinking into the depths of a lake, then suddenly buoyed by an invisible force, barely surfacing from the chaotic waters.

His eyelids were too heavy to lift. Vaguely, faint sounds filtered into his ears, like silkworms nibbling on mulberry leaves—muffled and irritating.

He strained to make them out. The sounds drifted near and far, finally coalescing into Wen Yu's voice, low and unhurried as if discussing the most ordinary of matters:

"...even regicide is not beyond consideration."

The moment those words landed, it seemed everyone around drew a sharp, collective breath.

There was even Eunuch Wang's voice. That eunuch usually spoke in a cold, drawn-out tone, but never before had his voice carried such startled panic: "You—you're mad! Rebellion, this is rebellion...!"

One could almost picture Eunuch Wang's face, drained of all color at that moment.

In his daze, he heard the Emperor's voice, just two words:

"Seize him."

It was the Emperor.

That voice rang out without warning, yet betrayed not a ripple of emotion—too cruel, laced with a sinister chill.

Though still muddled, the Young Marquis's consciousness seemed pricked by that voice, sharpening slightly amidst the haze.

Even as his body remained limp, his heart inexplicably tightened.

It felt as if an invisible hand clutched his chest—suffocating pressure, a breathless urgency, crashing over him in waves.

No...

He couldn't say what he was anxious about, only sensing something of utmost importance slipping swiftly through his fingers. Any slower, and it would vanish completely into mist, leaving not a trace behind.

Before his vision faded fully into darkness, driven by some instinct he couldn't name, he abruptly raised a hand.

His fingertips brushed against a cool piece of fabric, carrying an unfamiliar scent of ambergris. Almost immediately, he curled his fingers, clutching that sleeve.

His own brow seemed furrowed, fine sweat beading at his temples. He gripped tighter and tighter, murmuring something softly.

The person holding him seemed to freeze.

Soon, the clamor faded, and quiet settled around them.

His hand slowly loosened its grip.

...

Luo Qianyu's eyelids fluttered, finally cracking open a sliver.

When his eyes opened again, swaying brocade curtains filled his vision.

Night poured in. He tried to move and realized he was half-reclining, seated in someone's lap.

The other person's arm held his waist steadily. The faint scent of cold orchid reached his nose. The carriage jolted, but the firm support beneath him shielded him from all the bumps.

Strangely, his body felt profoundly uncomfortable, as if harboring a ball of fire burning from his core out to his limbs. Even his breath carried a scorching heat, slowly pooling downward.

He seemed to be nestled against the other's neck. A robe was draped over him, only his head exposed, enveloped within it. The person's scent was clean and pleasant. He couldn't help but nuzzle against the cool skin he found.

His nose buried into the hollow of the other's neck, mingling with a faint, elusive coolness that instantly seeped into his breath, oddly soothing some of the restlessness.

The hand at his waist tightened.

The other's breathing seemed to hitch.

The Young Marquis's hand, resting at his side, suddenly touched something icy—a piece of cold jade, perhaps. Like parched earth meeting sweet rain, he instinctively curled his fingers, grasping the object in his palm.

Coolness spread from his fingertips, easing the heat in his palm. He absentmindedly rubbed it, his thumb brushing over the jade's surface, feeling uneven engraved characters.

The texture was all too familiar. Like a jade token. A wave of recognition washed over him. The Young Marquis's lashes trembled. His throat tightened instinctively, and he murmured, "Crown Prince Brother..."

But then, a chill enveloped him.

As if doused by a spray of cold mist, the Young Marquis shivered, his muddled consciousness clearing significantly.

Luo Qianyu slowly opened his eyes.

He met a pair of pale eyes.

...

"Wen Yu?"

Before him was a beautiful face, features delicate and pale, now seemingly frosted over with ice, meeting his gaze.

Luo Qianyu poked his head out from within the familiar-scented robe. His vision was still slightly blurry. Instinctively, he wanted to lift the carriage curtain to look outside, but as soon as he raised his hand, he felt weak and limp.

He couldn't even properly lift the not-so-heavy curtain; instead, the effort made his arm ache.

"Are we in a carriage?" the Young Marquis asked hoarsely, his voice still hazy from sleep.

"Mn." Wen Yu's voice sounded beside his ear. "Young Master has been unconscious for a long time, not waking."

The carriage was speeding along, the cabin jolting violently.

The Young Marquis's lashes fluttered. The restlessness within him seemed stirred further by the jolts, making his head and neck burn. Even his breathing grew increasingly scalding. He frowned, his voice raspy. "What's going on... I feel awful..."

Wen Yu's thumb brushed over his sweaty forehead and the damp strands clinging to his snow-white neck. The skin under his fingertips was alarmingly hot. He said quietly, "Young Master has been drugged."

"Drugged?"

Luo Qianyu was stunned. His mind felt too scorched to function, yet the physical discomfort grew clearer.

Damn it, these symptoms...

Could it be that aphrodisiac he'd prepared himself?

This indescribable heat, this body-wide weakness and numbness—it perfectly matched the effects of that thing Young Master Chen had secretly given him... But he clearly hadn't drunk it! He remembered perfectly: just as he was about to raise his cup, the Eldest Princess had stormed into Wenhua Hall. By sheer coincidence, hadn't that wine been spilled on Prince Yanhuai's face?

Later, the Eldest Princess had toasted him with another cup of wine...

"It must have been the Eldest Princess..."

The Young Marquis realized with chagrin, muttering lowly, "I drank a lot of wine tonight, and I'd eaten some food to cushion it. I didn't feel anything off. But right after drinking her toast, I felt my steps grow heavy, drunkenness rushed to my head, and my whole body felt like it was stewing in a boiling pot..."

Wen Yu listened, his gaze darkening. "She took the wine from the banquet. To avoid suspicion, the drug was likely prepared beforehand."

Luo Qianyu stiffened, as if thinking of something.

That aphrodisiac pill from the Western Desert farewell banquet, the one that had been stolen by someone unknown—he had searched everywhere at the time but never found it, nor the thief. Could it be... that it had been taken by the Princess?

The Young Marquis howled inwardly.

He'd really made his own bed here!

His face alternated between red and pale, but fortunately, it was already flushed so intensely that it wasn’t noticeable. Of course, Wen Yu could never find out where this drug came from, much less that it was originally an aphrodisiac prepared for him, and now, by some twist of fate, it had ended up being used on himself.

But... why would the Princess drug him?

Wen Yu seemed to guess what he was thinking, his voice calm yet each word clear: "Once the rice is cooked, news of the Young Master drunkenly breaking into the Princess’s bedchamber in the middle of the night will spread throughout the capital by the next day. By then, even if the Young Marquis doesn’t want to marry, he’d be forced to marry her."

Luo Qianyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

Just then, the coachman’s voice came from beyond the carriage curtain: "The young master is awake. We’re almost at the Marquis’s residence."

The Young Marquis stiffened, and he quickly said, "We're not going back!"

He shot back almost immediately, his youthful voice tinged with urgency. His hand gripping Wen Yu’s sleeve tightened further, the heat within his body surging wildly through his veins. Fighting through the misery, he said, "In this state... I absolutely cannot return to the residence."

He knew all too well the potency of this aphrodisiac—even calling for a doctor wouldn’t bring relief. If his mother saw him like this, she’d probably faint dead away on the spot from fright.

The coachman paused, confused, and asked through the curtain, "Then... where shall we go, Young Master?"

Silence fell inside the carriage, broken only by Luo Qianyu’s labored breathing, his warm, sluggish breaths brushing against Wen Yu’s neck.

The Young Marquis remained silent for a while, his lips parted, exhaling hot air. After a long pause, he finally spoke, word by word:

"Qiyue Tower."

Wen Yu’s pupils constricted sharply.

After saying this, Luo Qianyu could no longer hold on. His head lolled back into the crook of Wen Yu’s neck. Half-conscious and half-dazed, his awareness began to drift again, sinking into a hazy, dizzy stupor.

The coachman’s voice carried obvious hesitation: "Young Master, are you referring to... that famous brothel in the southern quarter of the capital?"

Wen Yu cut in abruptly at that moment, his tone cold: "No."

The coachman grew even more uncertain: "But this is the Young Master’s order..."

"Your Young Master isn’t in his right mind," Wen Yu’s voice was icy. "Even if he said he wanted to jump into the moat to fish for the moon, would you really drive the carriage straight toward the riverbank?"

The coachman immediately fell silent: "...Understood."

After another moment, the coachman tentatively asked, "If we’re not returning to the Marquis’s residence, nor going to Qiyue Tower, then... where to?"

Wen Yu was silent for a few seconds before uttering a name.

.

He had no idea how long he'd been lost to that feverish haze.

When he awoke again, he was no longer in the carriage.

His entire body felt as if plunged into a furnace, like a wildfire fed with oil, burning fiercely along his veins to every limb and fiber of his being. Luo Qianyu felt every inch of his skin burning, even his breath scorching and sluggish, leaving him utterly disoriented.

The youth pushed himself up on the bed, struggling to rise. The tips of his ears were flushed crimson, his expression bewildered. He glanced around—this wasn’t the Marquis’s residence.

An old wooden desk, an inkstone, the bed he was lying on, and the long-withered orchid on the windowsill... Looking more closely, this place felt somewhat familiar.

Doctor Zhang’s words suddenly echoed in his ears—

"The small courtyard at the end of Qingyun Alley in the southern city."

...

This was Wen Yu’s residence!

This was actually the place where they had signed the indenture contract back then.

Wen Yu had brought him back to that abandoned little courtyard.

No... he had to leave.

The effects of the drug were growing increasingly intense. If he stayed any longer, who knew what kind of shameless scene he might cause.

Seeing no one around, the Young Marquis rolled off the bed. The moment his feet touched the ground, he swayed unsteadily, his soles as soft as if stepping on cotton. Leaning against the wall, he stumbled toward the door and pushed open the slightly ajar wooden door from the inside.

...

Wen Yu was standing right outside.

Luo Qianyu looked surprised but had no time to dwell on it. He tried to push past him and leave.

But Wen Yu blocked his path.

Luo Qianyu said nothing, still intent on leaving. Yet when he moved left, Wen Yu shifted left; when he moved right, Wen Yu shifted right, always standing firmly in front of him like an invisible, impassable wall.

Luo Qianyu’s face was flushed, his breathing ragged as he demanded, "What are you doing?!"

His voice trembled, partly from urgency and partly from the heat surging within him, his neck tinged with a faint, alluring flush.

Wen Yu looked down at him, his eyes devoid of emotion, and simply asked, "Where does the Young Master intend to go?"

"Where I go is none of your business! Why should I answer to you?!"

He still tried to leave, but Wen Yu remained unmoving, blocking his way. The courtyard wasn’t small—in fact, it was quite spacious—yet at that moment, it felt as if confined by invisible walls, without even a sliver of space to slip through.

The Young Marquis’s eyes blazed with fury, his patience completely gone. He swung a fist toward Wen Yu’s chest and kicked hard at his knee, using the very moves the man had taught him. But the personal guard stood as immovable as a mountain, not budging an inch, the impact instead making Luo Qianyu’s knuckles ache and his palms go numb.

Luo Qianyu gritted his teeth: "Get out of my way!"

...

"Are you going to look for your Crown Prince brother?"

Luo Qianyu’s pupils tightened.

Before he could react, the next moment, he heard Wen Yu’s calm voice, cold as snow falling into a frozen pond: "He’s already dead."

"Now, there’s only me."