Why didn’t King Yue come?
Min Xuefei needed to rest and heal, and that drainage tube couldn’t be removed any time soon. The emperor, as the ruler of a nation, couldn’t neglect state affairs for the sake of a subject.
The next day, the emperor personally visited Siqi Courtyard to check on Min Ji. Although he had heard a rough explanation of the young doctor’s treatment method from his attendants, he hadn’t paid much attention to it. It was only after seeing it in person that he realized it was truly astonishing, a method unimaginable by ordinary people. He couldn’t help but view him differently.
After a grand reward ceremony that day, the emperor set off back to the capital but granted Min Ji permission to temporarily reside in the Hot Springs Palace until his injuries were fully healed. He also left behind a team of eunuchs and palace maids to serve him. For the Min family, this was an extraordinary honor. Even if Min Ji’s father, Minister Min, were present, he would have to kowtow in gratitude and shout “Long live the Emperor!” But since Min Ji couldn’t move, such formalities were excused.
The vast Hot Springs Palace now only housed Min Ji. Although he never particularly liked lively crowds, being confined to bed, unable to do anything, and needing others to help him eat and drink, made him feel inexplicably lonely.
Fortunately, Ji Hong and Yu Jinnian were there to keep him company.
But…
Min Xuefei pursed his lips and turned to look at the eunuch sitting at the foot of the bed, incessantly buzzing like a fly as he read stories aloud. After finishing *The Tale of Lady Liu*, he picked up another book called *The Yin-Yang Chronicles*. He recounted a tale of an abandoned haunted mansion where cries of a woman were heard day and night. A butcher, skeptical of ghosts and evil spirits, chose to stay there overnight. At midnight, he saw a beautiful woman combing her hair in front of a mirror, seductive and alluring. His mind clouded with desire, he attempted improper acts, and the woman appeared to both reject and welcome him, leading them to intimacy… The story vividly described their entanglement, the delicate fragrance of the curtains, red robes, green stockings, touching flower buds, and playing with jade branches—tender cries and moans, a scene of utter pleasure.
What kind of *Yin-Yang Chronicles* was this? This was an erotic book!
Just as he was about to reprimand him, he heard Lian Zhi flip a page and continue, “Suddenly, there was a sharp crack, and the candle extinguished. Just as the butcher’s passion peaked, he smelled a terrible stench. The window curtains swayed faintly, and moonlight flooded the room. He saw—”
Min Xuefei’s heart tensed. “What did he see?”
Lian Zhi’s expression sank as he abruptly shut the book and tossed it aside. “Not reading anymore.”
The more evasive he was, the more intriguing the story seemed. Min Xuefei pressed him. “With moonlight flooding the room, what did he see? Why won’t you read on?” Seeing Lian Zhi remain silent, Min Xuefei reached for the book himself. Lian Zhi slapped his hand down and reluctantly said, “You shouldn’t read it either. You’ll have nightmares.”
He’s afraid of nightmares?
The reason sounded absurd. Min Xuefei couldn’t help but laugh. “The dignified Assistant Supervisor of the Palace Administration, with blood on his hands and so many depending on your whims, is afraid of nightmares?”
Lian Zhi turned to look at him, loosened his hand, and then turned his face away. He shot back, “Who isn’t afraid of nightmares? You keep criticizing me, but don’t your hands have the blood of your colleagues on them? Do you not have nightmares?”
“…”
He retorted so bluntly that it caught Min Xuefei off guard, though it was exactly what he expected. After all, for the past few years, the two had been at odds. Even when they occasionally encountered each other in the palace, they never exchanged a kind word. During the case of Hanlin Scholar Wan Rui, Lian Zhi had just been promoted to Assistant Supervisor. Dressed in a cyan robe embroidered with camellias and peonies, with two or three sashes around his waist, he led a group of docile young eunuchs, strutting arrogantly to deliver an imperial decree. Upon seeing Min Xuefei, he had mocked him for being “ignorant of his place.”
Ordinary eunuchs, let alone daring to wear camellias embroidered on their robes, would be executed if they added even a fingertip-sized floral patch to their garments. Customizing one’s attire with personal embroidery was a privilege reserved for highly ranked eunuchs. It was a way for these court attendants to flaunt their power. The higher their rank, the more extravagant they became. At the very top, Grand Eunuch Feng Jian disregarded all low-ranking officials as if they were beneath him, feeling the need to compensate for their rootlessness by asserting themselves elsewhere.
But when Min Xuefei first met Lian Zhi, he wasn’t like this.
He had been a young eunuch in his teens, reserved and composed. He always kept his head half-lowered when seeing others, presenting a gentle and amiable demeanor to everyone. Back then, he had already gained a small foothold in the palace. Though his status wasn’t high, he already had a few young eunuchs under him. Neither servile nor arrogant, he spoke slowly and softly. Min Xuefei often wondered how he managed to command his subordinates—perhaps with those innocent, blinking peach-blossom eyes of his?
Who could have expected that, within just a few years, Lian Zhi’s nature would shift drastically? He became no different from other eunuchs: two-faced and driven solely by self-interest.
Min Xuefei’s gaze fell on the plum blossom embroidery along Lian Zhi’s collar. He wondered why this man liked to have flowers and plants embroidered all over his clothes. One or two would have been fine, but he adorned himself with four or five varieties, cramming them onto his inner garments if the outer robes couldn’t hold more. He looked like a flamboyant peacock. Shifting his gaze, Min Xuefei muttered, “When we first met, you weren’t so sharp-tongued, nor did you curry favor with Feng Jian like this.”
Lian Zhi whipped his head around and stared at him intently.
Min Xuefei thought he couldn’t remember events so far in the past and chuckled self-deprecatingly, “I suppose so. Why would Assistant Supervisor Lian remember a nobody like me who’s unworthy of court? You’ve probably long forgotten that time you broke a plum branch in Huanfu Palace.”
Huanfu Palace had an auspicious name, but it was actually an abandoned palace located in a secluded corner, rarely visited. That evening, after a palace banquet, Min Xuefei had wandered aimlessly under the influence of alcohol and stumbled into Huanfu Palace. The courtyard was overgrown with yellowed weeds, and the fallen snow had formed a layer of hard ice an inch thick. Stepping on it made not the usual soft crunch of snow but a brittle crackling, rendering the scene even more desolate.
In the palace stood several plum trees, planted who knows how many years or generations ago. Left unattended, their branches intertwined haphazardly, yet the red blossoms on them were remarkably vibrant, like vermillion marks on white paper. What was even more striking was the sight of a young boy cloaked in gray standing amidst the plum grove. He was clutching a budding branch, staring at Min Xuefei in terror, as though startled, and turned to flee.
Min Xuefei, in his drunken stupor, grabbed him and demanded to know his name.
“Lian Zhi.”
Two plum trees grew so close that their branches intertwined into one. *Lian Zhi*, *Lianli gongyi zhi*—a name that evoked images of interwoven branches and shared lives. Hearing the name, Min Xuefei, moved by the scenery, couldn’t tell if the figure he had seized was a human or a spirit. Laughing drunkenly, he said, “A plum blossom spirit in the grove!”
Lian Zhi, looking very much like a plum blossom spirit, shoved the broken branch into his hand and vanished beyond the palace wall in the blink of an eye.
It was much later when Min Xuefei learned that the “plum blossom spirit” he saw that day was just an inconspicuous little eunuch in the palace. It wasn’t that he held any lingering attachment to that moment—he simply found it a pity. Such a clear and bright young boy turned out to be a eunuch.
“Only Huanfu Palace?” Lian Zhi suddenly asked.
Min Xuefei frowned. “What else?”
“…” Lian Zhi bent down to pick up the ghost storybook from the floor and flipped through it casually. Min Xuefei thought he was about to resume reading, but instead, Lian Zhi slapped the open book onto his face. “Read it yourself!”
Min Xuefei’s nose was almost flattened, and he couldn’t understand why Lian Zhi suddenly flipped his temper like that. After a moment’s thought, he reasoned that eunuchs were probably just naturally temperamental. Besides, Lian Zhi’s habit of flipping moods and mocking others was his normal state, so Min Xuefei quickly stopped puzzling over it. Instead, he stared at him for a while and asked another question, “The emperor and Feng Jian have returned to the capital. Why are you still here? Also, why do you always sit at the foot of my bed? Is there gold or silver there?”
Lian Zhi stiffened at the question and abruptly stood up, muttering, “You think your place is so great…”
He was about to leave when Yu Jinnian pushed open the door, chatting with Ji Hong as he entered. By coincidence, he blocked Lian Zhi’s path. Lian Zhi tried to dodge left and right, but couldn’t get past Yu Jinnian and finally retreated to the side, allowing the two men to enter.
Yu Jinnian noticed Lian Zhi’s displeasure and immediately guessed that the two of them must have quarreled again. He didn’t comment on it, merely brought a medical tray over to change Min Xuefei’s dressings. Ji Hong, who had been busy dealing with the mess left behind by Min Ji in recent days, was finally free to visit now that the emperor had returned to the capital.
Fortunately, Second Young Master Min was incredibly lucky. Although he suffered an arrow wound for no reason, it only caused severe physical exhaustion and did not result in sepsis or any other dangerous condition that would be difficult to treat. The congestion in his chest was gradually being cleared, and it was estimated that in another two or three days, the drainage tube could be removed, allowing him to get out of bed.
Yu Jinnian carefully unwrapped the bandages on the wound and gently cleaned the area with distilled water. While examining the stitches, he suddenly noticed something he hadn’t previously paid attention to—ordinary arrow wounds, depending on the arrowhead shape, left linear scars after stitching. Whether it was a conical arrow or a barbed swallowtail arrow, the sutures generally formed a straight line. However, Min Xuefei’s wound had a few angled stitches branching out.
This indicated that the arrowhead that struck him was far from ordinary; it was likely a tri-edged or four-edged barbed arrow with a blood groove. When Min Xuefei hastily pulled it out, it tore the flesh further. Yu Jinnian had only seen such arrowheads once before.
Ji Hong leaned in to take a closer look with him and seemed to notice the same anomaly, though his expression was far less surprised.
Yu Jinnian suddenly shivered and ran out of the room, catching up to Lian Zhi, who was about to leave. “Assistant Supervisor Lian, is the arrow that struck Lord Min still here?”
Lian Zhi responded quickly, “It is. I specifically had someone retrieve it earlier, fearing the arrowhead might have been poisoned. I’ll have them bring it over… But what do you need it for, little doctor?”
Yu Jinnian muttered, “I need to confirm something.”
Back in the room, Ji Hong sat by the bed, picked up a few storybooks that had fallen on the ground, smoothed out their creases, and spoke to Min Ji, “You mentioned earlier that you wanted to see me urgently during the attack. Was there something you wanted to say? Or… did you see the archer and couldn’t speak of it to others?”
“That’s precisely what I wanted to tell you,” Min Xuefei said, lowering his voice as he glanced at the window. “They were not ordinary mountain bandits. Even if some of them were bandits, there were definitely others mixed in. Under the barrage of arrows, I noticed that some of them displayed extraordinary skills—far beyond what common thieves could achieve.” He sighed regretfully. “It’s a pity we didn’t capture them. I also lack solid evidence, so to avoid alerting them, I didn’t report it and wanted to consult you first.”
Hearing Yu Jinnian mention the arrow, Min Xuefei frowned. “What’s the matter with that arrow?”
Ji Hong asked, “When you pulled it out, did you not notice the shape of the arrowhead?”
Min Xuefei snapped irritably, “I was dying—who had the time to look at an arrowhead?”
As they spoke, Lian Zhi’s men returned with the arrow and handed it to Yu Jinnian. He took one look at it and froze, his thoughts momentarily drifting—
Could it be him?
The edge of the arrowhead pressed against his thumb, leaving a faint white mark, and his fingertip turned pale. Lian Zhi called his name repeatedly, snapping him out of his daze. Yu Jinnian lifted his head, looked around, and suddenly asked about something seemingly unrelated. “Assistant Supervisor Lian, since this was a royal spring hunt, I heard that noble families’ sons and the princes would showcase their skills. Why didn’t King Yue come?”
Hearing the question, Ji Hong stepped over and took the arrowhead from Yu Jinnian’s hand. His expression darkened instantly.
Sure enough, the arrowhead was a four-edged, barbed type with a blood groove. Stained with dirty blood and soil, the broken shaft showed dark red streaks amidst the grime. The arrowhead itself was crusted with mud, but scraping off the outer layer revealed a shining silver surface that made a crisp sound when tapped. Such arrows were custom-made, crafted with intricate skill, and were not something ordinary bandits could afford. Even the imperial guards typically used simple swallowtail arrows for protection.
Lian Zhi didn’t understand how Yu Jinnian knew that Yan Chang hadn’t attended the hunt, nor did he know about any entanglement between the two. However, Yan Chang was, after all, a royal prince, and it was improper to discuss such matters with a commoner like Yu Jinnian. He looked to Ji Hong first, and after Ji Hong nodded, Lian Zhi replied, “King Yue… I heard he caught a cold before departure and was too ill to attend, so he asked His Majesty for leave.”
“Bullshit!” Yu Jinnian cursed under his breath. “Too ill to attend? Too ill, yet he had the time to come to my shop and cause trouble?!”
Ji Hong waved his hand, signaling Lian Zhi to leave.
“You’ve seen it?” he looked at the young man.
Yu Jinnian nodded and turned his head to look at the broken arrow in Ji Hong’s hand. “I accidentally found a similar one in Yan Chang’s secret chamber. Though rusted, it’s at least 90% identical to this one. Don’t you think…”
“Assistant Supervisor Lian, please look after Xuefei for a while longer,” Ji Hong said as he pulled Yu Jinnian’s hand, leading him to the adjacent warm chamber and shutting the door.
Lian Zhi returned awkwardly to Min Xuefei’s bedside. Just as he was about to sit at the foot of the bed out of habit, he suddenly remembered being mocked earlier. He straightened up immediately, his hand lightly clutching the camellia embroidery on his robe hem, unsure where to sit. Seeing Min Ji’s boots lying crooked, he bent down to adjust them.
*Clink!* Something fell from his lapel—a small wooden token with a line scratched across it, and a slightly stained handkerchief.
Min Xuefei saw the handkerchief and immediately turned red. “Why haven’t you thrown that thing away yet?!”
Lian Zhi’s ears flushed deep red, like pig liver, as he silently picked up the wooden token and shoved it back into his clothing. No matter how Min Xuefei protested, he refused to take it out.
At that moment, a cry came from the warm chamber. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”
It sounded like the young man’s voice. Both of them turned to look, but they could only see blurred silhouettes on the chamber’s window paper. Neither knew what the two were discussing. Lian Zhi hesitated, about to investigate, but then angry curses erupted from inside. The shouting gradually died down, leaving only Ji Hong’s occasional murmurs, though the exact words were inaudible.
“…”
Ji Hong reached into his sleeve for a handkerchief but couldn’t find one, so he wiped at Yu Jinnian’s eyes with his fingers. Though he felt some moisture, no actual tears had fallen. Yet his heart seemed suspended midair, clenched by an invisible hand, squeezing out acidic sorrow that dripped and corroded. The boy hadn’t shed tears, but Ji Hong’s cool touch had reddened his eyes.
Yu Jinnian clutched the broken arrow and murmured, “This was such a big matter, and you didn’t tell me.”
He referred to a similar arrowhead that had been discovered at the fire scene previously. Ji Hong had kept the matter quiet and hadn’t informed Yu Jinnian.
“I was investigating. Later, I got a lead from Jing Zhong, who secretly passed information to me. But just as I was starting to uncover clues, the trail went cold, and Jing Zhong disappeared again, forcing me to stop. I didn’t tell you because this matter is far more than just a noodle shop fire. Without solid evidence, I didn’t want to raise your hopes unnecessarily.” Ji Hong sat down, watching Yu Jinnian fiddle with the arrowhead, disheartened. “Who knew you’d find this arrow in King Yue’s residence.”
Yu Jinnian comforted himself. “So at least my suffering wasn’t in vain, right? I managed to grab some leverage. Yan Chang, Yan Chang…” He muttered the name, pacing in circles. “How could it be him? It really was him…”
“We don’t know for sure if it was him,” Ji Hong replied. “Remember, you mustn’t speak of this to anyone.”
Yu Jinnian nodded. Naturally, he would obey Ji Hong, though his hatred for Yan Chang deepened further.
—
The Hot Springs Palace couldn’t serve as a long-term residence, so after Min Xuefei’s chest drainage tube was removed and he recovered for two more days, everyone prepared to return to the capital. Because of the “bandit” attack earlier, both the Ji and Min families arranged for their private guards to escort them in secret. Yu Jinnian and Ji Hong shared a carriage, while Min Xuefei, still requiring care, had to share a carriage with Lian Zhi.
By the time they departed, it was already early summer. Outside the city, the dappled shade of the trees and the chorus of insects and birds filled the air. Alongside the road, trees bore tiny red berries amid green leaves and brown branches. Though inedible, they were pleasant to look at. Under normal circumstances, Yu Jinnian would have been drawn to such sights. However, ever since learning about the arrowhead, his face had been clouded, and he often stared blankly into space.
During the bumpy ride, Ji Hong sighed softly, rubbing the boy’s back as if soothing a cat. “You’re this restless and sleepless—how will you cope? I wouldn’t have told you if I’d known this would happen.”
Yu Jinnian sulked for a while, gradually lulled into drowsiness by the swaying carriage. He murmured slowly, “I just can’t understand—what grudge does this person have against you that they would go to such lengths to see you dead, even at the cost of several innocent lives? And this time, what is the reason? Could it be…” As his thoughts deepened, a chill ran down his neck. Though he wasn’t one to fear imperial power by nature, the imagination alone made him shiver.
“It’s not always about hatred. Sometimes, someone targets you simply because you’re in their way,” Ji Hong shook his head, pulling the boy into his arms. He kissed the top of his head tenderly, then cupped his face to softly kiss his lips, as if soothing him. Afterward, he let him lean on his shoulder to nap.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone who deserves punishment escape,” Ji Hong said, narrowing his eyes, his words carrying a cold edge that wasn’t directed at Yu Jinnian. Patting the boy’s shoulder gently, he coaxed, “Sleep, I’ll watch over you.”
Yu Jinnian closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the carriage wheels rolling over gravel. In Ji Hong’s embrace, his restless heart finally found peace and quiet. He murmured a faint “Mm,” and said no more.
—
At noon, they stopped at a roadside tea shack. The owners, an elderly couple, ran a humble business with simple cookware. The sight of the imposing group scared them so much they fell to their knees, kowtowing and crying, “My lords!” Indeed, except for Yu Jinnian, everyone else was a powerful court figure. But in such a remote place, none of them wanted to keep up the pretense of grandeur.
With no one capable of cooking among them, and the elderly couple unable to prepare anything palatable for the nobles, Yu Jinnian had anticipated this. He had gotten up early that morning to prepare a set of hearty dishes, carefully packed into food boxes. All that was needed now was to heat them on the earthen stove, and they could eat. The dishes were durable enough that even reheated, they still looked and tasted good.
Lian Zhi helped the still-awkward Min Xuefei down and settled him into the nearest table and chair. His wound hadn’t fully healed, and using his hand to hold chopsticks tugged at his ribs, causing his hand to tremble slightly. As a result, each time he picked up a portion of food, half of it ended up falling back onto the table. Second Young Master Min, used to a smooth-sailing life, now couldn’t even handle chopsticks properly, scattering vegetable shreds on the table—a thoroughly undignified sight.
Min Xuefei’s face turned slightly red, his chopsticks halfway between lifting and lowering. Suddenly, a half-wrapped pancake was placed in front of him. The vegetables he dropped were scooped onto the pancake, rolled up by Lian Zhi, and promptly eaten.
Some of Lian Zhi’s trusted eunuchs serving nearby were so stunned that their mouths fell open, nearly forming perfect circles—*The Assistant Supervisor of the Palace Administration eating someone else’s fallen food?!* Who would believe it if they heard?!
Even Min Xuefei stared at him in shock. After a long silence, he managed to stammer, “You…” He stopped, unsure what to say, his tongue twisting awkwardly. Finally, he murmured in protest, “Don’t eat that. It touched my chopsticks. Take something fresh.”
Lian Zhi smiled without speaking, but he did stop using the pancake. Instead, he placed an empty tea bowl in front of Min Xuefei. Seeing this, Min Xuefei finally relaxed and quietly resumed eating, though he kept glancing at Lian Zhi from time to time. Noticing that Lian Zhi had only eaten one small pancake and a few bites of vegetables before stopping, he wondered if the man’s appetite was too small. He thought about it for a moment and suddenly caught himself—*Why do I care whether he’s full?!*
But it did concern him, in the end.
Because Min Xuefei insisted on doing everything himself, the meal took much longer than usual. When he finally finished eating, wiped his mouth, and set down his chopsticks, a hand suddenly reached out from the side, taking his tea bowl and scooping up the last bits of leftover vegetables straight into someone’s mouth.
Those moist, reddish lips opened and closed as Lian Zhi ate. Min Xuefei stared at him, dumbfounded. “…What kind of habit is this?”
Lian Zhi lowered his head and refused to answer. After a long silence under Min Xuefei’s gaze, he finally snapped irritably, “Consider it my medicine!”
Min Xuefei was even more confused. *Medicine? What medicine?*
Before the matter could be explored further, a fragrant scent wafted over from the tea stove, distracting everyone. The rich aroma of milk hung in the air, drawing their attention. Some of those close to Duan Ming even moved nearer to investigate.
A kettle hung over the stove, releasing the enticing scent. Once the milk boiled, Yu Jinnian opened the lid and pulled a handful of tea leaves from his pouch, tossing them into the kettle and stirring gently with chopsticks. In a short while, the milk’s fragrance was complemented by the fresh aroma of tea. Everyone had just finished their meal and was feeling thirsty, so the smell made several of them swallow their saliva involuntarily.
After simmering for a little while longer, Yu Jinnian added two pieces of sugar, letting them dissolve into the brew.
Ji Hong saw Yu Jinnian’s actions and immediately felt a headache coming on, taking half a step back—he still vividly remembered the sweet egg custard incident in Xin’an County. To this day, he dared not forget it. Now the boy had suddenly come up with sweet milk tea?
Who on earth was teaching him these strange recipes?
Traditional milk tea originated from the northern regions. Since northern milk often came from fresh goat’s milk, it naturally carried a gamey taste. To mask this, northerners would add heaps of spices and nuts to the brew, making it rich and thick with a layered flavor. Yu Jinnian knew this, but he’d forgotten, as the milk tea he drank most often in his past life was bubble tea.
The thought of bubble tea made Yu Jinnian start wondering if he could recreate “pearls” when they returned.
Seeing him add sugar, those who had initially been eager to try the tea hesitated and pulled back.
“Anyone want a bowl?” Yu Jinnian asked. Once the sugar had melted, he poured himself a bowl and drank it with relish. Milk clung to his lips in a white ring, which he licked away with his tongue, exclaiming how satisfying it was before pouring himself a second bowl. The others wavered for a while but couldn’t resist the temptation, and one by one, they came forward to try it. The flavor was a little peculiar at first, but the more they drank, the more they enjoyed it.
Yu Jinnian held up a bowl and coaxed Ji Hong into tasting a few sips.
Seeing this, Lian Zhi also ladled a bowl and handed it to Min Xuefei. “Want to try it?”
Min Xuefei thought to himself that this man was far too strange. Why was he being so kind to him?
Before he could figure it out, the convoy was ready to move on.
Because of Min Xuefei’s injuries, the carriage could not travel too fast, and they spent the entire day on the road, only entering the city gates at midnight. Given the passengers—a duke’s heir, a prime minister’s son, and a favored court eunuch—the guards dared not cause trouble, immediately opening half of the city gates to let them through.
The closer they got to the capital, the smoother and flatter the roads became. Min Xuefei, still recovering and already exhausted, succumbed to sleep as soon as the sky darkened. Lian Zhi glanced at him, then carefully shifted his position to let Min Xuefei rest comfortably on his lap. He quietly watched him sleep all the way back.
The carriages traveled slowly through the streets of the capital. When they reached East Cross Street, Ji Hong’s carriage turned toward Jin Youting. Since both Yu Jinnian and Min Ji were sound asleep, Lian Zhi simply raised a hand in silent greeting to Ji Hong across the carriage curtains and continued onward, escorting Min Xuefei to the Xiang Residence.
Lian Zhi’s index finger gently traced the curve of Min Xuefei’s ear, his gaze turning from tender to wistful. He wanted the carriage to go slower, just a little slower… His knuckles hovered over the carriage wall but never tapped, letting the horses proceed steadily and swiftly to the minister’s manor, where they finally came to a stop at the gates.
Min Xuefei knew none of this. He was lost in a dream, one that brought him back to his early childhood—
How young? Perhaps around ten years old. The discipline in the Min family was strict. Even at ten, the governesses had already taught him that he was practically a little adult now and could no longer act foolishly. For days, they drilled this into him until, finally, his father took him to attend a palace banquet. It was early spring, and the weather took a turn for the worse. As soon as they stepped into the palace gates, heavy rain began to pour.
It was his first time entering the palace, and his heart was filled with nervous excitement. But the more anxious he felt, the more flustered he became. In the downpour, he somehow got separated from the eunuch leading him.
The palace was vast, and he wandered aimlessly with his umbrella, unsure of where to go.
Min Xuefei frowned in his sleep, suddenly unable to recall how he had managed to find his way back. He couldn’t even remember what had happened to the umbrella because, after returning home, he fell gravely ill with a fever that lasted for a month. Much of what happened remained hazy and unclear in his memory.
How could he, so suddenly, dream of something from so long ago…
Outside, the gatekeeper of the Min residence had already been waiting and, noticing that the carriage curtains remained closed, dared not approach rashly. He stood quietly below, hands lowered, and called softly, “Second Young Master, we’ve arrived home.”
*Home.* What a beautiful word.
Lian Zhi’s eyes lowered, as if he hadn’t heard the voice outside. He sat there motionless, staring blankly at the man in his arms, as though trying to engrave every bone, every inch of skin, every strand of hair into his memory. He knew he was nothing more than a pool of rotting mud in a filthy swamp. No matter how fine or ornate his clothing, beneath it all, he was still dirty to the core.
The world was not wrong in saying it. Eunuchs like him, once they entered the palace—the mire of all filth—could anyone remain untainted?
But Min Ji was different. He was a pearl of the heavens, the radiant moon surrounded by countless stars.
Nothing could compare to the distance between mud and clouds.
Lian Zhi’s lips curved silently in a fleeting, bitter smile. Half a month in the Hot Springs Palace had already been the limit of what he could allow himself. If he didn’t rein in his heart now, it would be nothing short of greed. Just as he lifted his hand to wake Min Ji, a sudden, inexplicable stubbornness seized him—a refusal to accept this ending, a reluctant obsession. If their paths would never cross again, why couldn’t he steal something, just a fragment, to carry with him through the long, dark years ahead?
Just a little, just the tiniest bit.
He lost his senses, his mind awash with unclear heat, his heart drumming like thunder as he slowly leaned down.
The pale rose-colored lips were right in front of him. But Lian Zhi lost his nerve at the last moment, tilting just slightly, so that he only brushed the corner of Min Ji’s lips. He trembled, his breath uneven, thinking to himself—this was enough. This would be his own secret, a precious memory to savor for a lifetime. For the rest of his life, Min Xuefei would never know that Lian Zhi had once stolen from him—
Lian Zhi shifted his gaze, only to meet a pair of wide, dark eyes staring straight at him.
His heart sank into a pit. In that single moment, all the heat that had flooded his body drained away just as quickly, leaving him cold from head to toe, as though plunged into the dead of winter. Reason returned, bringing with it a crushing sense of regret. He slumped inside, questioning himself over and over—*Why couldn’t I stop? Why did I have to overstep my place?*
Lian Zhi, oh Lian Zhi, what now?!
Min Xuefei woke abruptly, feeling warmth near his mouth. He was groggy and hadn’t yet pieced together what had happened. When clarity struck, he hadn’t even managed to say anything—he had only looked at Lian Zhi—but the young eunuch’s eyes reddened instantly. He bit his lower lip so hard it seemed it might split and bleed.
“You—”
The word had barely left his mouth when Lian Zhi bolted upright, not even caring that Min Xuefei was still lying across his legs. Like a thief caught red-handed, he fled the carriage in a panicked scramble, covering his ears as though trying to block out the world.
Min Xuefei hit his chin on the carriage floor and bit his tongue, pain shooting through him as he landed awkwardly. He lay sprawled, dazed, staring at the scene outside. In his upside-down view, Lian Zhi’s figure stumbled down the street, disappearing clumsily into the shadows, just as he had vanished from Huanfu Palace all those years ago.
“I haven’t even said anything—what’s he running for…” Min Xuefei muttered groggily, his head spinning.