Chapter 17

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In Wen Biesang’s hand was a small white jar, from which a faintly sweet fragrance emanated. He dipped his fingers inside and stirred—the sound sticky and viscous. Pinching some between two fingers and then opening them, the substance stretched into thin threads. Among the bathing supplies Pang Qi had prepared for him last time, there was nothing like this. Could it be something exclusively used by the Crown Prince? Wen Biesang had never entered the palace and knew nothing about the exquisite items the Crown Prince might use. Since both his hands were wrapped in gauze, he let the substance drip onto his arm, but unexpectedly, the transparent, sticky ointment slid down and clung to his chest.

When Cheng Yun swiftly stepped in from behind the screen, Wen Biesang, flustered, had already wetted his hands and was vigorously scrubbing at the ointment on his chest. But there was too much of it, and instead of removing it, the ointment smeared all over him. From nearby came a sharp reprimand: "You fool..."

The mist swirled inside the screen’s enclosure. Wen Biesang’s hair was tied atop his head, with damp strands clinging to his temples and pale cheeks and neck. The pale pink against the translucent ointment resembled plum blossoms frozen on a winter branch. Hearing the noise, he looked up, a trace of confusion in his expression. Cheng Yun’s breathing tightened slightly.

Wen Biesang belatedly understood: "Is this your prized possession?"

"How could this possibly be my prized possession?!" Cheng Yun snapped.

“...” Wen Biesang had thought the anger was over the waste. He ignored him and focused on washing his body. The ointment not only stuck to his skin but also adhered to the gauze. His hands quickly became sticky as well. Now Wen Biesang didn’t understand why the Crown Prince’s residence would have such a thing—it was as unpleasant as snot.

Cheng Yun, who had taken everything in, remained silent. He was beginning to believe this fool wasn’t being deliberate. After all, if he hadn’t used this ointment in a dream before, he would never have guessed what it actually was. Palace items were always of the highest quality—in other words, extremely potent.

With such a large jar spilled over his body, Cheng Yun could already anticipate how the medicine’s power would act on the sensitive areas it had touched.

Unable to bear it any longer, he grabbed a towel from the screen and strode over. Wen Biesang hadn’t reacted when he saw Cheng Yun swiftly soak the towel and begin wiping his body. Wen Biesang turned aside to avoid him, but his arm was firmly grasped. The frozen plum blossom trembled before Cheng Yun’s eyes.

He scooped some clean water nearby and splashed it over Wen Biesang, who closed his eyes briefly, his slender shoulders slightly hunched, the hollow collarbone protruding sharply beneath his neck.

Cheng Yun then removed the gauze from both his hands and went to fetch a thin blanket, which he draped over Wen Biesang’s head, lifting him out of the water in one smooth motion as if he had done it countless times before.

Wen Biesang settled back on the bed. Cheng Yun turned to retrieve medicine and gauze again, his voice cold as he said, “Hands.”

Wen Biesang, clutching the blanket around himself, was momentarily unresponsive.

Cheng Yun said, "...Hands. Didn’t I tell you they must not get wet?”

“They didn’t, originally,” Wen Biesang replied, disliking his stern tone yet still explaining, “because I got a lot of your prized ointment on me...”

“It’s not my prized ointment!!” Cheng Yun snapped.

“...” Wen Biesang fell silent. He wasn’t stupid; he remembered perfectly what Cheng Yun had said before. His tone was deliberately provocative, though he didn’t understand why mentioning the other’s prized possession made him so angry. Either way, he was furious whether Cheng Yun was angry or not. Let him be mad.

Cheng Yun grasped his hand. “The wound has turned pale. If it gets infected, your hand will be ruined.”

“Can take apart a Thunderfire Bomb.”

“?”

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“Take apart a Thunderfire Bomb,” Wen Biesang explained thoughtfully. “It disinfects, prevents infection.”

“Do you think the Crown Prince’s residence is some backwater to use such second-rate stuff for disinfecting?!” Cheng Yun snatched his hand away and turned to fetch some wine.

Wen Biesang stretched out his hand, watching the wine pour into his palm, furrowing his brow in a small frown.

Cheng Yun cleaned the wound again, this time wrapping only a thin gauze to prevent the already pale wound from getting further damaged by moisture.

After finishing, he felt as if he had practiced swordsmanship all day. Silently, he rose and fetched the undergarments from behind the screen, tossed them to Wen Biesang, then opened the door.

Wen Biesang, seeing him leave the veil, immediately lifted the pillow beside him and indeed found a finely crafted dagger inset with rubies underneath.

Outside the door, Pang Qi, who had been meditating, lifted his head at the noise, smiling broadly.

“Put everything away.”

Pang Qi hurriedly nodded, beckoning the servants behind the screen.

He quietly picked up a small white jar and looked at it, instantly shocked.

—It’s... empty.

The Crown Prince truly was young and vigorous.

Back at the bed, Wen Biesang had changed his clothes.

Undergarments were usually thin and soft, even more so in the royal household, feeling almost weightless on the body. Wen Biesang had never worn such comfortable clothes before. Running his hands over the soft fabric, he thought of the set Pang Qi had brought before, his expression subtly contemplative.

The best things had all been given to Gong Wuchang.

Cheng Yun’s gaze fixed on him.

Pang Qi was genuinely worried that the two might not succeed tonight. The clothes he brought for Wen Biesang were thin and sheer, far from ordinary undergarments. Having served long in the palace, the old eunuch had seen far more than most. These garments were thin and flowing, perfectly outlining every curve and hollow.

The wearer seemed unaware of his body’s changes; through the fabric, two faint pink tips were vaguely visible—pointed and perky.

Cheng Yun sat on the bed, resting one leg and pressing his arm on it, a shadow falling beneath his brow. “Do you feel anything wrong?”

Wen Biesang shook his head once, then paused as if sensing something, then shook it again.

Cheng Yun rubbed a jade ring on his index finger, turned away, and lightly tended to the wound on his own hand before blowing out the candle on the bedside lamp.

He lay down. Wen Biesang remained seated, clutching the slightly uncomfortable dagger decorated with rubies. “I want to go back to the small room to sleep.”

“No.”

He turned his head toward Wen Biesang, his eyes falling on the half-visible ruby behind him.

In the darkness, Wen Biesang couldn’t see clearly, assuming others couldn’t either. After a moment’s silence, he touched the dagger again, then turned on his side and lay down beside him.

Cheng Yun closed his eyes expressionlessly.

Wen Biesang lay awake in the dark, ears attuned to Cheng Yun’s breathing.

Gradually, he noticed Cheng Yun seemed to be falling asleep, so he relaxed and closed his eyes as well.

After about half an hour, Wen Biesang shifted, subconsciously pressing the dagger against one side.

Soon, he turned again, pressing the dagger while scratching with a finger.

After a while, he curled up, softly moaning in discomfort.

Finding the embroidered quilt, he began rubbing it quietly.

Cheng Yun’s voice came from the dark, slightly hoarse: “If you’re uncomfortable, you can call me to help.”

“Help...”

Wen Biesang echoed. Cheng Yun’s hand slowly reached out, but when it touched his ankle, Wen Biesang suddenly kicked him and darted to the foot of the bed.

His voice trembled: “You drugged me...”

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Cheng Yun: “...”

He immediately sat upright. “Why would I drug you?”

“You just want me to feel bad on purpose...”

“Wen Biesang.” Cheng Yun paused. “Be reasonable. Did I spill that stuff on you? Did I smear it all over your body? On the contrary, I washed you clean, pulled you out of the water in time, applied medicine, and even offered to help... And less than an hour from now, I have to attend court. Do you think I have so much free time to argue with you here instead of sleeping?”

Wen Biesang clutched his clothes, choking out, “The sun hasn’t risen yet.”

“Argue about the moon, argue about the snow, argue about right and wrong—interpret it however you like.”

Wen Biesang rubbed his legs and arms, tears dripping helplessly.

Cheng Yun swallowed hard, his long dark lashes drooping halfway over his eyes, voice low and serious: “Do you want me to help?”

“...You go out.”

“?”

“Go out, sniffle...”

“...”

Suddenly, the door to the bedchamber flung open, startling Pang Qi, who was standing guard outside.

Outside, snow fell heavily, but the chill around the Crown Prince seemed even colder.

“Your Highness, what’s...?”

Cheng Yun turned and closed the door, letting the cold wind howl outside. Crossing his arms, he stood aside coldly and said, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Pang Qi smiled slyly. “Your Highness is so valiant, I feared the palace would not be peaceful. I waited here for instructions.”

As he spoke, he stepped closer to Cheng Yun, revealing the white jar hidden in his sleeve, whispering, “Your Highness, did you come out looking for this?”

“...” Cheng Yun didn’t know whether to praise or scold him.

He took the jar. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Pang Qi said. “Your Highness, please go inside. Don’t let the...”—he tapped his mouth—“Master wait too long.”

“I came out to enjoy the snow,” Cheng Yun said coolly. “He has already gone to bed.”

“Then, Your Highness should put on a coat,” Pang Qi removed his cloak, saying, “Wearing only a thin shirt, you risk catching a cold.”

Cheng Yun pushed him away. “No need. I’m too restless.”

“...” Pang Qi’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. Wrapping his cloak around his old bones again, he said, “I understand, Master, it’s your first time, so it’s a bit overwhelming... But, your Majesty’s body is unparalleled; you wouldn’t seek help from others...”

“Enough, enough,” Cheng Yun cut him off, growing more exasperated. “Go quickly.”

“Sorry to trouble Your Highness.” The old servant looked sympathetic but didn’t stop, swiftly running back to his room and slipping smoothly into his warm bed.

The snow fell heavily. In the courtyard, attendants stood holding umbrellas beside each stone lantern to keep the flames alive.

Cheng Yun paced before the door, glancing at the umbrella holders with knitted brows. “You may all leave now.”

“But the stone lamps—”

“The snow provides enough light.”

Only the Crown Prince remained outside the bedchamber.

Tall and graceful, he leaned against the door, listening, then paced left and right.

That foolish rabbit—did he even know what to do?

So much time had passed...

And he was still crying.

Cheng Yun’s expression tightened as he pushed the door open and stepped back inside.