The wind tugged at their sleeves, the chill cutting straight to the bone.
Just then, Shen Zechuan suddenly turned his head and sneezed, shattering the hair-trigger standoff. He was soaked through, waved at Xiao Chiye, and said dully, “Got a handkerchief?”
Xiao Chiye stepped forward and handed him one.
Shen Zechuan’s nose was red from the cold, his fingertips too. He took the blue handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose.
Only then did Xiao Chiye leisurely open his umbrella. He didn’t step aside. “Where’d you go?”
“Out to play,” Shen Zechuan said.
“You’re my close guard now. If you go out to play, at least leave word with the Signatory Office,” Xiao Chiye said. “You vanished without a sound. That worries people.”
“I left my waist token in the bathhouse. Second Young Master didn’t see it?” Shen Zechuan caught the scent on the handkerchief. It smelled good—nothing like the incense favored by the noble sons of Qudu, but rather the bracing rush of wind rolling wild beneath a blazing sun. It was Xiao Chiye’s scent.
It really did smell good.
Shen Zechuan lowered his gaze, nearly losing himself in it. It was sunlight he could never touch, the bold spirit he would never again possess in this lifetime. He found himself reluctant to return the handkerchief, so he lifted the corner of his eyes and glanced at Xiao Chiye sidelong, a look half-spoken, half-withheld.
“Didn’t see it.” Xiao Chiye patted his chest, failing to find what he wanted. He turned and caught Shen Zechuan’s look, paused, and said, “What guilty thing did you do to look at me like that?”
“Who knows,” Shen Zechuan said with faint smugness. “I’ve done plenty of guilty things.”
“Name one or two. Let me hear them,” Xiao Chiye said.
“Heart-to-heart talks belong indoors,” Shen Zechuan coughed lightly. “Standing here is cold. Is the bathhouse still open?”
“Closed,” Xiao Chiye said. “If you want a bath, you’ll have to use my room. Your health’s this poor—should I call a physician to take a look?”
“That’d be perfect,” Shen Zechuan parried smoothly. “With Second Young Master handling it, I’ll save the consultation fee.”
“You’re barely recovered and still running around. That just makes people worry more. I’ll have someone follow you from now on.” Xiao Chiye courteously stepped aside. “Come on. Second Young Master will see you back under the umbrella.”
Shen Zechuan glanced at the shoulder that towered over him, then at Xiao Chiye. Smiling, he said, “I can tiptoe and hold the umbrella myself.”
“I’m afraid of bonking my head,” Xiao Chiye said. His profile had presence—straight nose, handsome lines. “You’re too short.”
They stepped through the gate together. Shen Zechuan said, “You’re just excessively tall.”
“When I was young, I was several heads shorter than my elder brother. With a name like mine, I got anxious, so I trained every day and drank milk before bed,” Xiao Chiye said, long legs stepping over a puddle. “Who knew that by thirteen or fourteen I’d shoot straight up to the sky.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Shen Zechuan said. “My elder brother is tall too.”
The rain eased, but the snow thickened.
Xiao Chiye lifted the edge of the umbrella and looked at the snow. “Another year.”
“Another year,” Shen Zechuan echoed.
“The new emperor has ascended. There’s a general amnesty,” Xiao Chiye paused. “The Empress Dowager’s power is waning. You could leave Qudu—go anywhere.”
“And then change my name, forget the past, live an ordinary life,” Shen Zechuan said calmly. “That doesn’t sound like something said by someone who hates me.”
“I hate the Biansha cavalry,” Xiao Chiye said coolly. “And I hate Shen Wei.”
“You should hate me,” Shen Zechuan said.
Xiao Chiye’s gaze flickered.
“I’m someone who lives on hatred,” Shen Zechuan went on.
Snowflakes landed on the stone slabs and melted at once.
Xiao Chiye said, “You understand that sentence from five years ago better than ever now.”
“Living is more painful than dying.” Shen Zechuan suddenly laughed, exhaled, and said to Xiao Chiye, “No—that’s not right. I’m not in pain. Hatred is like death by a thousand cuts, knives carving the flesh day after day. Eventually, you go numb. There’s nothing left in this world that makes me feel ‘pain.’ Living like this suits me. You’ve urged me to stop more than once, but you of all people know—whether to stop has never been a choice for either of us. If tenderness makes you feel better, I don’t mind playing along for the long haul.”
As he spoke, Shen Zechuan lifted his hand. His icy fingers brushed across Xiao Chiye’s solid back, like a whisper in his ear.
“Some things look vivid and intoxicating through clouds and mist. Get close enough to look again, and it’s just a pile of bones.”
Xiao Chiye waited until he withdrew his hand, then impatiently shook the umbrella. “Bones don’t touch people like that.”
Shen Zechuan gave a short laugh and was about to step forward when Xiao Chiye hooked an arm around his shoulders.
“Bringing that stench of blood to paw at Second Young Master,” Xiao Chiye locked him in tight. “You’ve got some nerve. A whole courtyard of guards can’t keep an eye on you—so what room are you going back to? You’re sleeping with me.”
Caught off guard, Shen Zechuan heard Xiao Chiye continue, “I’ve remembered that life-saving favor of yours and given you chances again and again. You keep treating me like a fool. Amusing yourself? If you’re amused, why aren’t you smiling? Shen Lanzhou—come on. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t mind playing along long-term?”
With that, he tossed the umbrella aside, stepped forward, and hoisted Shen Zechuan straight onto his shoulder.
Shen Zechuan’s head hung down. Dizzy, he quickly covered his mouth and nose with the handkerchief and snapped, “Xiao Er—”
“Move even once,” Xiao Chiye said, “and I’ll turn Qudu upside down right now to see who’s working with you to kill someone in the dead of night.”
“Go ahead and investigate!” Shen Zechuan barely got the words out before Xiao Chiye jolted him hard, nearly making him vomit.
“There’s a hole in the bathhouse for you to crawl through—pretty quick on your feet,” Xiao Chiye vaulted a railing, carrying him across a courtyard sparse with red and green, and slipped through the hidden entrance, heading straight for his own room.
The lookouts popped their heads up on the roof, marveling. “They were chatting and laughing in the snow a moment ago, all polite—how’d it turn urgent in the blink of an eye?”
“He doesn’t want to be good with Second Young Master,” said the guard who’d been watching Shen Zechuan, taking a swig of strong liquor. “Yesterday he ran so fast—probably afraid of tonight’s霸王硬上弓. I asked around the Forbidden Army this afternoon. Everyone knows.”
“Report it to the Heir?” the one peering around asked, pulling out a small notebook, licking his brush. “This’ll be hard to write.”
“Carrying someone openly into the room.” The drinker glanced over; Xiao Chiye had already slammed the door shut. After thinking, he said, “Better not… a fondness for men isn’t big or small—it’s easy to offend either side if you write it wrong. I think Second Young Master’s going to get beaten.”
The other frowned and scribbled a few strokes. “Mm… then we’ll note it but not report it yet. If the Heir settles accounts later, we’ll say we were cowed by Second Young Master’s淫威 and didn’t dare report nonsense.”
“But how did he get away in the first place?” the drinker mused, arms folded behind his head, utterly baffled.
Inside, a brazier warmed the room. Xiao Chiye didn’t put him down—arm around Shen Zechuan’s waist, he turned a couple of circles, rummaging through his clothes chest.
“Plenty of hot water. Orchid grass and bathing beans—pick whatever,” Xiao Chiye said, then brazenly leaned over to sniff Shen Zechuan’s waist. “You’re not the type who needs milk baths with petals and pearl powder, are you?”
Shen Zechuan said, “Put me— I’m going to throw up!”
“Then throw up like this.” Xiao Chiye pulled out the clothes he’d stashed at the bottom, closed the chest without caring that garments spilled out in a mess, and carried him straight inside.
He lifted the hanging curtain. A screen divided the space into two small rooms—one leading to the hot pool, the other with clothes racks. Xiao Chiye hung the clothes, casually moved the screen aside with one arm, then set Shen Zechuan down by the pool and dragged over a chair.
“Wash,” Xiao Chiye said, sitting at ease and tipping his chin. “Everything you need is here. I’ll watch and see how you run.”
Shen Zechuan’s face went pale. “You’re watching me?”
Xiao Chiye stretched his long legs and folded his arms. “Shy? Don’t run.”
“I’m not the shy one,” Shen Zechuan shot back.
“Then take it off.” Xiao Chiye remained unruffled. “Let’s see which of us can’t handle it.”
Without another word, Shen Zechuan undid his sash. Xiao Chiye’s gaze was frank; he didn’t avert it in the slightest. By the time Shen Zechuan stripped to his inner clothes, his knuckles had gone white.
“I don’t know if you’re in pain,” Xiao Chiye teased, “but you look pretty mad.”
Before he could finish, Shen Zechuan’s clothes flew into his face.
Xiao Chiye caught them, laughed a bit, and when he lowered them, Shen Zechuan was already in the water.
Shen Zechuan leaned against the far side, neither turning back nor looking over. His smooth back held beads of water, gleaming like jade petals heavy with dew.
Xiao Chiye sat for a while, then said, “Temper’s sharp. You used to talk in circles, one set after another.”
“I can’t out-hard Second Young Master,” Shen Zechuan said.
The double meaning landed. Once might be coincidence; twice, the hint strangled any lingering bashfulness.
So Xiao Chiye sat steady and answered steady, “Naturally.”
After a moment, he asked again, “Aren’t you going to explain where you went to play tonight?”
“You’re all-powerful,” Shen Zechuan said. “Investigate.”
“There aren’t many places that’d let you kill someone at this hour,” Xiao Chiye said, fishing an eastern pearl from Shen Zechuan’s clothes and rolling it between his fingers. “The Empress Dowager is still rich—down to this point, even tipping off has to look impressive. You didn’t get dazzled by a bead like this and decide to stick with her, did you?”
“Who doesn’t love silver?” Shen Zechuan said. “The Emperor favors you now—you’ve spent plenty equipping the Forbidden Army. You understand the benefits of money better than I do.”
“She tells you to kill,” Xiao Chiye said. “You go kill?”
Shen Zechuan had soaked enough and reached for his clothes. Xiao Chiye hooked the rack away with his leg, stood, and said, “Answer.”
Bare-chested, Shen Zechuan said, “Yes.”
“Lying to me.” Xiao Chiye took down a clean set and said, “This pearl was soaked beyond recognition that night—how could you even tell what the Empress Dowager ordered? The person you killed tonight was someone you wanted to kill, wasn’t it?”
“…Mm,” Shen Zechuan said.
“Don’t ‘mm.’” Xiao Chiye rubbed the fabric. “Vague answers count as no answer.”
“It was someone I wanted to kill,” Shen Zechuan reached out. “You’re right.”
“Ji Lei,” Xiao Chiye said. “Or Pan Rugui?”
Shen Zechuan’s fingertips finally brushed the clothes. “Why couldn’t it be you?”
The clothes whisked up. Xiao Chiye denied him and said, “You change your tone every few sentences. Second Young Master doesn’t eat sarcasm. Whether you killed Ji Lei or Pan Rugui, the Court of Judicial Review won’t let it go tomorrow morning. You saved my life at the autumn hunt—the Empress Dowager doesn’t know that yet, but I can let her know. Once she does, whether you’re my man or not, you’ll be my man. So speak properly. Don’t toy with Second Young Master.”
Every time Shen Zechuan reached, Xiao Chiye lifted the clothes higher. Shen Zechuan endured it again and again until he finally rose from the water, grabbed the garments, and snapped, “Speak properly—with no clothes on?!”
Xiao Chiye leaned in to look. “This is speaking properly. Why put on that yin-yang, bone-white act in front of me? Ghost stories don’t scare me.”
He paused.
“You touched me—I ought to touch back. We’re not close enough to be careless. Come on. Where should I touch?”