Chapter 111

Chapter 111

At this moment, Han Wangchuan, still kneeling on the ground and willingly accepting punishment, was completely rattled.

As a bookworm obsessed with studying the nature of things, Han Wangchuan had never had the slightest interest in other people's gossip.

When Shen Lian encountered danger that night and was personally rescued by the Crown Prince, who had suddenly arrived in disguise, the other friends who had witnessed the incident were all fired up with gossip, going on and on about the Crown Prince and Shen Lian's relationship.

Han Wangchuan stuck up for Shen Lian, arguing that Shen Lian had presented the painstakingly crafted Nine-Turn Water Mill to the Crown Prince, so it was only natural that the Crown Prince would care for such a talented artisan out of respect for his talent.

But the guests picked apart every little detail, claiming that the way Shen Lian looked at the Crown Prince from his bed went way beyond the loyalty of a subject to his lord, and that he had even reached out a hand to tug at the Crown Prince's sleeve.

One guy asked the million-dollar question: "If any of you were lying on that bed, would you dare reach out and pull at the Crown Prince's sleeve like that?"

The more they talked, the more they speculated that Prince Qi might have been led astray by the Third Prince and had also started liking men.

Months back, Shen Lian had said over and over that once he finished the water mill model, he planned to give it to Prince Qi.

At the time, a bunch of well-meaning buddies had urged him to offer the Nine-Turn Water Mill to the Grand Prince instead.

Offering up something that could turn the nation's economy around and shake up Chu and Wei's trade balance would be a huge political win if it worked.

Whichever name got the credit, Shen Lian's contribution to backing the future emperor would set him up for life.

Compared to Prince Duan, Prince Qi was way too young, and lately his war victories had made him cocky and full of himself—he didn't bother winning people over below him or sucking up to those above. He just didn't look like a good bet.

But in just a little over three months, the Grand Prince had been taken down!

It had all gone exactly the way Shen Lian called it.

And now he'd almost been poisoned right in front of the Crown Prince, and the Crown Prince had carried him back himself—his future was looking limitless.

In the end, Han Wangchuan couldn't take it anymore and told everyone to knock off the wild guesses.

At this moment, even as dense as Han Wangchuan was, he could sense that Shen Lian's behavior toward the terrifying Tengri Sky Blade was indeed overly intimate.

He'd actually dared to shove the Crown Prince's shoulder and arm.

And the Crown Prince himself didn't seem the least bit bothered by Shen Lian's rudeness, instead staring at him in a weirdly intense way, talking low and fast, looking annoyed but just going on and on.

God only knew how blown away Han Wangchuan was by that sight.

Two years earlier, Han Wangchuan's father, the Marquis of Zhenyuan, had been ordered by the emperor to reinforce the northern desert front, and had insisted on dragging his good-for-nothing son along and recommending him to Prince Qi.

Those days had been the worst nightmare of Han Wangchuan's life.

On the first trip to the northern desert, he had inexplicably suffered headaches and heart palpitations, several times struggling to catch his breath.

But his father cared only about the family's martial honor, scornful of his son's delicate demeanor, and had even struck him in frustration more than once, demanding that he show some semblance of a warrior's son before the Great Wei War God.

Han Wangchuan was not feigning illness—the northern desert was perpetually swept by sandstorms, which dried out his nasal passages and caused nosebleeds. Unfortunately, he also had a fear of blood, and fainting at the slightest sight was simply beyond his control.

Add to that the overwhelming nerves of meeting the legendary Young War God for the first time, and the moment Han Wangchuan stepped into the military tent, his legs gave way and he collapsed to his knees, humiliating himself before a host of generals. His father had wished he could kill him on the spot to vent his rage.

Han Wangchuan still remembered that in that tent, filled with laughter and his father's awkward self-deprecation, only Prince Qi himself, seated at the northern head, had not laughed, nor uttered a single word of mockery.

His father had personally heaped every conceivable humiliation upon him, and those around him had chimed in, remarking that the boy had inherited his mother's gentle temperament—a subtle jab at the son of a military household.

And then the War God Prince Qi spoke, silencing everyone's mockery and laughter, saying, "This place has high altitude—my first few days here, I often felt dizzy and weak in the legs, tripping and kowtowing to everyone."

That one line instantly wiped away all of Han Wangchuan's embarrassment, and the old generals in the tent howled with laughter.

At that moment, Han Wangchuan was overwhelmed with gratitude, clenching his fists as he stared at Prince Qi at the head of the tent.

Prince Qi was only seventeen then, looking way more boyish than the Crown Prince does now, probably because he was mid-growth-spurt, all lanky and gaunt compared to now.

But Prince Qi carried himself with a wild, untamed swagger, even joking openly that during his first campaign, when he rendezvoused with Yuan Ju, he'd jumped off his horse to show off, only to get dizzy and drop to his knees right in front of Yuan Ju.

Unwilling to admit his legs had gone weak, Prince Qi had no choice but to put on a grave, dramatic face and say, "General Yuan, the frontier folks are all in your hands." Old General Yuan, caught off guard, dropped to his knees as well, saying, "No, no, Your Highness, please rise," but he was so dizzy he couldn't get up, so he stayed on his knees and asked the general for battle strategies.

The old generals in the tent laughed so hard tears ran down their faces, clutching their stomachs and doubling over.

That's how Han Wangchuan's embarrassing debut as a "brave son of a general" never made the rounds in camp.

To this day, he still holds Prince Qi's kindness dear, imagining the Tengri Heavenly Blade as someone incredibly big-hearted and above petty stuff.

But why...

Now that Prince Qi had become Crown Prince, why was he being so petty, nitpicking with Shen Lian over letter sign-offs?

Shen Lian was throwing out stuff like "Dehui the Chaser King" and "Bib Connoisseur"...

There's no way the Tengri Heavenly Blade wrote something that childish!

Han Wangchuan looked completely disillusioned, and Shen Lian, unaware of what had struck him, desperately begged Dian Xia to let Young Master Han head home, even leaning in to whisper that he'd pay back half an hour of debt that night.

Sure enough, the selfless Tengri War God let the innocent Master Wangchuan go right away.

The moment he left, the haggling over specifics started.

Half an hour wasn't enough, but the army doctor had hinted that the little cat needed more rest.

The Crown Prince had to give in on the time, but he insisted on pinning down exactly when the clock started.

After lunch, Shen Lian wanted to head home to let his dad and big brother know he was okay.

Xie Yuan didn't see the point and just had Shen Lian's family brought over to stay.

Shen Lian knew his dad—during those three months in Gusu, the old man kept getting homesick, pining for the house he'd shared with his late wife.

If they were brought to the Crown Prince's place, his dad wouldn't dare say no and would just be miserable.

Living with the Young Male Concubine was Shen Lian's idea of heaven, but for his easygoing dad and brother, it'd feel like a cage. They'd never feel free to do whatever they wanted in the Crown Prince's home.

If anyone else had said that, Xie Yuan would've called them high-maintenance—if you're not used to it, get used to it; why should he bend for them?

But now, with the little cat earnestly explaining himself, it all sounded perfectly reasonable.

Why was his ex-wife only vicious to him, but sweet and thoughtful with his family?

If it weren't for that goodbye letter exposing her true colors, this little cat might've already been his real family.

But now, he was greedily savoring everything he'd once dreamed of, and Shen Lian dutifully faked the admiration and affection he used to show.

But it all sat on a pile of broken lies—the cat was just a bonus that came with the Crown Prince title.

The love was all fake—so what now?

As long as he could hold onto power, he could play this game for as long as he wanted.

Shen Lian took the young male concubine's arm, "Let's go now!"

"We?" Xie Yuan turned his head with an impatient expression to look at the little cat: "Do I also need to go tell your father you're safe?"

Shen Lian reminded him: "You're supposed to stay close and protect me! How could you forget so quickly? I'm really in danger right now, you can't just brush this off!"

Xie Yuan had a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw Shen Lian's curled, soft lashes trembling slightly, half-hiding a pair of bright black eyes full of panic.

Xie Yuan wanted him close for protection, maybe not just because of his skills or a craving for intimacy.

It was because he'd been scared last night and had somehow imagined someone trying to kill him.

His ruthless ex-wife was scared and asking him for help.

This was the perfect chance to mock her, abandon her, and get his revenge.

Xie Yuan's lips parted, but all he said was: "Alright, I'll go with you."

When they arrived home, Shen Lian's father and older brother were out, probably out checking out shops for sale on some street again.

Having served in the palace for so many years, Shen Lian's father and brother couldn't sit idle. Now that they learned the sudden box of gleaming silver that Shen Lian had acquired was swindled from the Crown Prince, they were eager to open a shop, work hard, earn money to pay off the debt, and make amends for their youngest son's huge mistake.

Shen Lian went back to the courtyard and said to Xie Yuan: "My father and brother are out. Why don't you go wait in my room?"

Xie Yuan glanced at him, turned on his heel, and paced with his hands clasped behind his back in the small courtyard: "I'll wait here until they get back."

"Come inside and wait, then."

"No, I'm fine out here."

Shen Lian walked around to face him, looking up at him closely: "Dian Xia, why has your face suddenly turned pale? Are you feeling okay?"

Xie Yuan's hands, clenched tightly behind his back, were trembling and sweating too.

Ever since he had found that farewell letter in this empty courtyard more than three months ago, this place had become a recurring nightmare.

The more he'd once looked forward to walking in and finding the young imperial physician, the more he now dreaded this place that had taken him away for good.

This place reminded him that everything right now was just an illusion he'd pieced together from fragments of lies, driven by his obsession.

Xie Yuan was hurting.

But he'd never been good at showing pain, not since he was a kid.

In the first few years after his mother lost favor, she was utterly devastated, often hurting herself and staying in bed, hoping to win back his father's pity.

But none of it moved his father.

Mu Rongyao never realized that the emperor had never truly loved any woman.

In a foreign land, the only one who truly loved her was her child.

Back then, Xie Yuan, only eleven, was scared out of his mind.

He couldn't tell if his mother's crying, screaming, and threats were real or fake, and he lived in constant fear of losing her.

His mother losing favor was already painful enough; if Xie Yuan couldn't keep it together, couldn't give his mother hope, he'd have no reason to exist.

A person forced to suppress vulnerability from a young age would also shy away from deep emotions.

So Xie Yuan envied his third brother's open affection for Song Jin, but also instinctively feared and rejected his brother's wholehearted devotion.

During the last campaign, confused by his feelings for the young imperial physician, he'd wanted to ask his third brother how he felt about Song Jin, to use as a comparison.

Unexpectedly, his third brother accused Xie Yuan of actually wanting the kind of affection he joked about, but Xie Yuan wouldn't fully commit himself.

Exposed, Xie Yuan flew into a rage, lashing out, saying his third brother's path had been far smoother, so he had no right to talk.

At the most vulnerable time of his life, everyone had wanted him to have no feelings, to be immune to hurt.

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth to get through it, and now the world turned around and blamed him for not understanding emotions, for being cold and childish.

Perhaps his third brother was right—he was immature and too greedy, which was why the young imperial physician could so ruthlessly write those cruel words.

He should accept this as the norm, not act like a child, showing this pitiful, pathetic face in someone else's courtyard. The War God of Great Wei couldn't afford such disgrace.

"I'll wait outside, alright?" Xie Yuan said expressionlessly: "Your courtyard feels a bit stuffy."

Shen Lian still looked up at him, his brow gradually furrowing, his eyes faintly reddening.

Receiving no response, Xie Yuan said no more and turned to walk out the door.

A vicious cat suddenly pounced onto his back, wrapping its arms around his waist.