Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Twelfth Chapter

At midnight, Lu Wuyou emerged from the Eastern Palace as heavy snow fell in swirling flurries.

He walked along the path with one foot sinking deeper than the other. The red plum blossoms within the palace walls bloomed one after another, and he vaguely remembered the first time he saw Fang Zhanglin.

The snow fell like goose feathers, each flake melting on his shoulders.

A tiny child, no bigger than a bean, clutching a hand warmer, shivered as he greeted him, "You're called... Lu Wuyou?"

He had lost everything—even his name—to floods and plagues. Startled by the words, he was dazed for a long moment before tentatively asking, "I... am I called Lu Wuyou?"

The tiny child hummed happily twice and said cheerfully, "Yes, yes, that's right—Lu Wuyou... Your surname is Lu, and your life has been hard, so 'Wuyou' it is—carefree, peaceful, and safe."

Plum blossoms reflected against the snow, shimmering with a faint cherry-red light.

The other person added, "I am Fang Zhiyuan, Fang Zhihe's younger brother. My older brother usually calls me Changlin. You can call me that too. Or you can call me Yuanyuan! Mother calls me Yuanyuan!"

He stared blankly at Fang Zhiyuan, who seemed to remember something and shoved the hand warmer into his arms. In a daze, he called out, "Changlin."

The other person burst into a smile. "Wuyou."

Lu Wuyou lowered his eyes, staring at the snow beneath his feet, thinking to himself—too bad Fang Zhihe was shameless and jealous, even capable of driving away his own younger brother.

A cold glint appeared in his eyes, catching the attention of the person approaching him. That person paused, made a deep bow, and said in a flat tone, "This subordinate pays respects to Lord Lu."

Lu Wuyou sized him up coldly and said icily, "Lord Qi, what business do you have wandering about in the dead of night instead of attending His Majesty in his chambers?"

Qi Guan stood straight, his expression indifferent as he replied, "His Majesty is gravely ill and cannot rise. Your subordinate was heading to His Highness's palace to burn some incense to ward off illness, lest His Highness catch a sickness."

Lu Wuyou frowned slightly and hesitated before asking, "Is he truly that ill?"

Qi Guan lifted his eyes and said respectfully, "Yes. When I went to administer medicine this afternoon, His Majesty didn't even recognize me."

Lu Wuyou's brow furrowed deeper. "How is that possible?"

Qi Guan continued, "Your subordinate overstepped, fearing His Majesty might not survive. So I found a human-skin mask, disguised myself as you, and managed to coax His Majesty into sleeping peacefully... no longer troubled by nightmares."

Lu Wuyou froze, but before he could respond, Qi Guan knelt and prostrated himself, saying hoarsely, "Your subordinate had no other choice. He misses you terribly... Please don't torment him anymore. A letter or a word from you makes him ecstatic for half a day. Even if you just deceive him, even if you just spare him a glance—it wouldn't cost you much... Why must you make it so that even in his illness, he cannot sleep soundly?"

Lu Wuyou ignored his words, instead saying coldly, "So you'll just keep making a fake version of me to trick him?"

Qi Guan looked up at him, his eyes heavy and dark. After a long silence, he sighed bitterly and smiled wryly. "I can't. I can't bear it."

"What's there to bear?" Lu Wuyou made to leave.

Qi Guan closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "I cannot bear to see him heartbroken... The moment I look at him, it feels like I'm dying—it hurts so much."

Lu Wuyou said nothing. Instead, he kicked Qi Guan, sending him sprawling into the snow. Then he sneered, "You two are all lovesick and wistful—why come whining to me?!"

Qi Guan's mind was full of Fang Zhihe's crying that afternoon. Dazed, he murmured, "Huaishu only loves you."

Lu Wuyou scoffed. "Too bad I can't stand him."

He flicked his sleeves and strode away, but his head was full of Qi Guan's words. He completely forgot what he had originally intended to ask—how Qi Guan had come to know the military secrets.

He hurried out of the Eastern Palace, not even bothering to watch the snow. He stumbled aimlessly until he finally found himself in front of the Hall of Eternal Longevity. He froze, thinking to himself, "Hall of Eternal Longevity? More like Hall of Short Lives." But his feet carried him forward.

The hall was lit. As he told himself that Fang Zhihe was on the verge of death, he reached out and pushed open the door.

He had expected to find the man lying unconscious in bed. Instead, Fang Zhihe was sitting at his desk in a white outer robe, bent over with a brush in hand, sketching and writing.

His face looked sallow under the lamplight—a man who had been sick and emaciated after half a month without seeing him, seeming fragile enough to collapse at any moment. Beside him was an empty bowl, and on the other side, a pot of clear wine.

Lu Wuyou steadied his emotions. Suddenly, he heard Fang Zhihe cough twice. A splash of vivid red stained the white robe, but the man paid it no mind and continued working.

"Xiaoyun, why are you standing at the door? The wind is strong—close the door, I'm cold," the man said in a low, gravelly voice, as if a stone were lodged in his throat.

Lu Wuyou reached back to close the door. The man added, "The Crown Prince has been visiting less often lately. I find myself missing him somewhat..."

Lu Wuyou felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest. He hated seeing Fang Zhihe show weakness. The words slipped out before he could stop himself: "If you miss him, have him come."

The words hung in the air. He froze, watching the man's head snap up. When Fang Zhihe saw him, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and he actually smiled.

Lu Wuyou felt a heavy pressure on his chest. He pressed a hand to his heart and said reluctantly, "It was your miracle doctor who made me come see you."

"Mm," Fang Zhihe nodded. He tried to stand but lost his strength and stumbled, collapsing onto the daybed.

Lu Wuyou watched him frown in pain as he struggled to get up. Helplessly, he walked over, lifted the man into his arms, and intended to put him on the dragon bed. But Fang Zhihe grabbed his robe and pulled him down, sending them both tumbling onto the couch.

Lu Wuyou frowned and was about to scold him, but Fang Zhihe laughed. He looked utterly delighted; his sickly pallor took on a hint of color, making him appear captivating.

"Yuntai," Fang Zhihe called out softly.

Lu Wuyou answered without thinking, then regretted being so compliant. He put on a stern face and sneered, "Your Majesty loves to put on an act—even your illness is just another performance."

Fang Zhihe smiled at the remark. "You're right. Everything you say is right. Yuntai, Yuntai... you're holding me."

Lu Wuyou fell silent, unsure what to say. His heart softened a little. Perhaps it was the gentleness of tonight's snow, or perhaps it was the gentleness of Fang Zhihe under this lamplight.

This man... had always said he liked him, yet never managed to win even a shred of his favor. What was there to like?

He liked Changlin. When Changlin was happy, he was happy.

Fang Zhihe liked him. So why couldn't he just let him and Changlin be together?

Fang Zhihe nuzzled against his chest and whispered, "Yuntai, do you miss Changlin?"

Lu Wuyou's face instantly turned cold. He raised his hand to throw the man off, but Fang Zhihe was quick—he wrapped his arms around Lu Wuyou's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek, his voice trembling. "I truly don't know where he is. My younger brother hated being trapped in this palace, so I let him go. I wanted him to be happy... Mother always said that as the older brother, I should make my younger brother happy and treat him well."

Lu Wuyou stopped moving. His nose was almost touching Fang Zhihe's, and he stared into the man's dark, lifeless eyes without speaking.

Fang Zhihe paused, then—whether deliberately or not—brushed against the corner of Lu Wuyou's mouth before continuing, "...From the age of twelve, I started imitating Changlin. Whatever he did, I did. Whatever he loved, I loved. When we were twelve, he wanted to be a knight-errant who robbed the rich to help the poor, so I followed him and did that for a while. Later, he wanted to be a famous doctor, so I studied with the physicians at the He Ren Tang. At fourteen, he wanted to open a tavern, so I opened one too. When he became a tutor, I also went to the academy to be a tutor... Whatever my younger brother did, I did. Even what he liked to eat, what he did in his spare time—I learned it all. I too could be cheerful and lively every day like him..."

Lu Wuyou said nothing.

Fang Zhihe took a breath, looked at him, and said in the smallest voice, "I am willing to become him, to love you."

Lu Wuyou stirred. He gently rubbed against the corner of Fang Zhihe's mouth and laughed mockingly. "Changlin would never stoop as low as you."

Fang Zhihe's eyes instantly reddened. He laughed too. "...What can I do? Changlin is not me, and I am not Changlin."

Lu Wuyou pushed him away and made to leave.

Fang Zhihe, sitting on the ground, lunged forward and grabbed his robe. His eyes were blood-red as he raised his voice hoarsely, "So what if I'm lowly?! Changlin doesn't love you at all—no one loves you except me! I am willing to become him to love you, so why can't you just let me have my wish?!"

Lu Yuntai shook him off violently, almost pointing a finger at his face as he scolded, "Who do you think you are? Imitate him? You're not even worthy to imitate him!"

Fang Zhihe looked up at him, eyes full of tears. He clenched Lu Wuyou's robe tightly and choked out, "Then pretend I am him!"

Lu Wuyou was so angry he almost laughed. He raised his leg and kicked Fang Zhihe's hand away, shouting, "Get away from me! People like you are utterly disgusting."

"..." Fang Zhihe was stunned. He sat blankly on the ground, the hand that Lu Wuyou had kicked hanging limply at his side. As if in disbelief, he murmured, "You said that if I were half as good as Changlin, you would care about me..."

Lu Wuyou said expressionlessly, "No, you don't have that. You were born jealous and vicious, enough to make everyone sick."

Fang Zhihe was frozen in place. He struggled to think and then suddenly said happily, "Didn't you say Mother was wrong? You also know that my nature isn't that bad, right?"

Lu Wuyou said coldly, "That was just me pitying you. Compared to you, everyone likes Changlin more; I only said that because I felt sorry for you."

Fang Zhihe was speechless. His eyes flickered, and tears streamed down his face.

Lu Wuyou turned to open the door, but Fang Zhihe lunged over again, throwing himself at his feet as he hugged his leg, sobbing, "...Is Xiaoyuan good? Xiaoyuan is my child. Do you like children? I'll bear you many more children, okay?"

Lu Wuyou lifted his other leg and kicked him, snarling, "Fang Zhihe, you're crazy!"

"You're crazy!" He kicked several times. Fang Zhihe suddenly cried, "I was wrong! Lu Yuan wasn't born from me; he was born from a woman... I'll find a woman to bear you children, okay?"

Lu Wuyou's heart ached at his crazy words. He didn't even know why Fang Zhihe's words infuriated him so much. He raised his leg and kicked Fang Zhihe in the waist, smashing him hard into the table leg before stopping.

"Fang Zhihe! Shut up! Don't put your filthy ideas on Xiaoyuan!"

Fang Zhihe fell to the ground, coughing violently. Choking, he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

As if dazed, he lay on the ground, looking at the snow outside the window, and whispered, "Lu Yuntai, I deeply care for Lu Yuan. I love him. I'm raising him to be like you..."

"...Why do you love Changlin but cannot love me?"

Lu Wuyou opened the door, letting the wind and snow blow into the room. He said flatly, "Because I love Changlin. You are not Changlin."

Fang Zhihe said "Oh" softly and gently closed his eyes.