The second floor of the inn had been placed under strict guard.
The innkeeper, the shop assistants, and the traveling merchants who had been herded into a corner downstairs exchanged bewildered looks. No one had expected that the domineering high-ranking official who had nearly made someone bleed all over the floor would suddenly run into an old acquaintance and remain in this shabby inn to reminisce.
Now, the commoners and merchants who had stayed behind to eat or spend the night hardly dared to breathe. They were terrified of disturbing the noble personage upstairs and bringing disaster upon themselves.
The innkeeper was whispering with several shop assistants, discussing whether they should try sending two plates of meat and wine upstairs, lest poor service anger the noble guest again.
But no one dared go up.
The staircase leading to the second floor was now guarded by soldiers carrying real swords and spears. One of them had nearly chopped off someone’s fingers just moments ago!
Just then, footsteps sounded upstairs.
The innkeeper looked up and saw the eunuch who had been following the nobleman earlier coming down.
Although this eunuch had a handsome, refined appearance, he was extremely proud and cold. He carried himself with the bearing of royalty and did not even bother to look people properly in the eye.
The innkeeper hurriedly led several shop assistants to wait respectfully beside the staircase, bowing as they awaited the eunuch’s instructions.
Instead, the eunuch took a banknote from his sleeve and placed it on the counter.
“Our master says he would like to borrow your second floor for a while. This is the rental fee,” he said leisurely.
The innkeeper leaned forward for a look.
Good heavens—five hundred taels.
With that much money, they could have bought the entire second floor, let alone rented it.
The innkeeper immediately broke into a broad smile, thanking him profusely and bowing again and again.
The eunuch cast him a sideways glance, then swept his eyes across the first floor.
At this moment, the entire first floor was packed with people. Some had originally been staying here, while others had just been driven down from the second floor. It was already late, and there were no other lodgings nearby, so they had no choice but to spend the night here and set out on their journey the following morning.
Now, everyone sat crammed together downstairs, afraid to make a sound as they cautiously watched the eunuch.
He withdrew his gaze, then took another heavy pouch filled with broken silver from his sleeve and tossed it onto the counter.
“Take the money and divide it among them. Go about your business. Don’t just stand there like fools. Our master was merely apprehending a few criminals earlier. Was it really so frightening that it scared the souls out of you?” the eunuch complained.
Not frightening? He was about to draw his sword, kill people, and chop off their hands! How could that not be frightening?
The eunuch glanced at the innkeeper and warned him not to pocket any of the money. He then ordered him to prepare several more dishes and send them upstairs before returning to the second floor.
Everyone secretly sighed in admiration at the eunuch’s courage and generosity.
Meanwhile, Jinbao, the very eunuch everyone admired for his courage and lavish spending, was silently grumbling as he climbed the stairs.
Why does our master become a completely different person whenever he encounters this Heir? Silver flows out of his hands like water. Just watching it makes my heart ache.
But did Jinbao dare say that aloud?
He did not.
All he dared to do was act like a silent quail and quietly slip upstairs.
——
Jun Huailang sat down again in his previous seat.
There had only been two people at the table before, but now there were three. Jinbao called for the shop assistant to come up and light the lamps, add another set of bowls and chopsticks for Xue Yan, and pour the wine. For a while, none of the three said anything.
Jun Huailang looked at Xue Yan several times.
He was… rather surprised.
When he had seen Xue Yan by the window earlier, he had assumed that Xue Yan had come to apprehend a criminal on the orders of his superior. He had gone downstairs intending to meet him.
He had not expected to stumble upon the scene of Xue Yan interrogating prisoners.
…It was also a side of him Jun Huailang had never seen before.
He had never seen Xue Yan with such a calm yet powerful presence, so cold and ruthless—or rather, he had never seen this side of Xue Yan in this lifetime.
The Xue Yan he had seen just now was exactly like the Xue Yan he had known in his previous life: cold and fierce, like a drawn blade, its entire body gleaming with icy light.
Perhaps this was what Xue Yan had originally been like.
And it made sense. Xue Yan was already sixteen. If he had truly been as dull-witted and easy to bully as Jun Huailang had imagined, he would never have climbed to such a high position in his previous life.
Xue Yan had never told him that he was simple-minded. That had merely been Jun Huailang’s own assumption.
By rights, Jun Huailang ought to have been afraid.
Yet, miraculously, he was not. Perhaps Xue Yan had always been too obedient and docile in front of him. Perhaps Xue Yan had once saved his life, and the tears and sincerity in his eyes at that time had been so genuine that Jun Huailang could never forget them, even through the confusion of those circumstances.
Instead, Jun Huailang felt a strange sense of, So that’s how it is. He had not even once considered whether Xue Yan might repeat the mistakes of his previous life.
—But he did indeed feel somewhat unfamiliar with him all of a sudden.
Whenever Jun Huailang looked at Xue Yan before, his impressions had always been mixed with his own assumptions. He had always thought Xue Yan lonely, struggling, pitiful, and yet resilient.
But now, it seemed that he was clearly a lone wolf raised in the snow. And it made sense. So much suffering had been pressed upon him alone, forcing him to grow beneath its weight. If he had not been crushed by it, how else could he have become the person he was now?
Jun Huailang’s efforts alone could naturally not change who Xue Yan originally was. He had merely changed Xue Yan’s attitude toward his family. As for Xue Yan’s true nature, it had probably never changed at all.
Jun Huailang was lost in his thoughts, while Xue Yan remained silent beside him.
As for Jun Xiaowu, he had always been the kind of person who could neither keep his mouth shut nor sit still. He looked left and right, then at his elder brother quietly drinking tea, and then at the Fifth Prince sitting there without saying a word. The silence was nearly driving him mad enough to jump out the window and escape.
After waiting for a while, the shop assistant finally brought up some freshly warmed wine.
Jun Xiaowu hurriedly seized the opportunity to pour wine for the other two. He picked up his bowl and said, “Who would have thought we’d run into His Highness the Fifth Prince here! The inn may be a little shabby, but their wine is actually quite good. Your Highness, would you like to try some?”
Xue Yan gave a quiet hum but did not pick up his bowl. Instead, he turned his head toward Jun Huailang.
Only after seeing Jun Huailang lift his wine bowl did he pick up his own.
Even the slow-witted Jun Xiaowu found this rather astonishing. He could not help feeling that the decisive and ruthless prince from earlier seemed… a little too well-behaved.
But he immediately cast that absurd thought aside.
Well-behaved? What well-behaved? How could someone who had just been about to chop off someone’s fingers possibly be called well-behaved?
Then he watched as Xue Yan raised the wine bowl to his lips.
Jun Xiaowu’s greatest pleasure when inviting people to drink was watching their embarrassed expressions after swallowing strong liquor. The yellow wine served here was unquestionably potent. Yet, when Jun Xiaowu saw Xue Yan about to drink, he unexpectedly felt no anticipation at all. Instead, his heart leapt into his throat.
What if the wine chokes him? Won’t that anger His Highness?
He hurriedly called out, “Your Highness, take it slowly. This wine—”
But unexpectedly, Xue Yan spoke at almost exactly the same moment.
Only, he was not speaking to Jun Xiaowu.
He was speaking to Jun Huailang.
“Earlier, I was merely trying to frighten them. I had no intention of causing trouble here,” he said. “I simply did not want to waste time entangling myself with them.”
Jun Xiaowu swallowed the words that had reached his lips.
Could it be… that His Highness the Fifth Prince is explaining himself to my brother?
Jun Xiaowu looked at him in astonishment.
Yet somehow, it did not quite seem that way.
Xue Yan rested one hand on his knee and held the wine bowl in the other. His posture was relaxed and dignified, and his expression remained cool and indifferent.
Perhaps Jun Xiaowu was simply overthinking it.
What he did not notice was that there was a trace of uneasiness in Xue Yan’s gaze as he looked toward Jun Huailang. The hand resting so calmly on his knee had already tightened into a nervous fist.
Nor did he know that Xue Yan’s ability to wait until now before speaking was already a remarkable display of self-control.
Only Xue Yan himself knew that the moment he had stood at the doorway, turned around, and seen Jun Huailang, all his senses had ceased to function. Only his eyes remained, and inside them was a single person.
Jun Huailang had seen him nearly chop off someone’s fingers and threaten to take their lives.
When Xue Yan finally came back to himself, overwhelming panic swept over him. He had followed Jun Huailang upstairs like a condemned prisoner awaiting judgment. But Jun Huailang had not said a word for so long, and that only made Xue Yan even more anxious.
…Would he be disappointed? What would he think of me?
The brief time it took for the shop assistant to come upstairs, add dishes, and light the lamps felt like an entire lifetime to Xue Yan. The torment he endured was no less than that suffered by the restless little monkey Jun Xiaowu, who could barely sit still for a quarter of an hour.
At last, he could not hold back any longer.
He looked nervously toward Jun Huailang, only to see Jun Huailang pause in surprise before revealing a warm, calm smile, exactly the same as always.
“Your Highness was simply carrying out official business. There’s nothing to it,” he said with a smile.
Xue Yan froze. The words in his heart slipped out before he could stop them.
“…Don’t you have anything to say?”
…Even when Jun Linghuan said something crude in the language of the martial world, Jun Huailang would still scold her a little.
But Jun Huailang looked rather surprised by the question. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked in confusion, “What would you like me to say, Your Highness?”
I want you to reprimand me. I want you to tell me to change and teach me not to do it again.
Xue Yan could not say it.
Only then did he realize that what he feared most was not Jun Huailang disliking or criticizing him.
It was Jun Huailang simply not caring what he had done.
What looked like benevolence was, in truth, indifference—the kind of indifference that meant he had not taken it to heart at all.
There was nothing wrong with Jun Huailang behaving this way. After all, he was kind-hearted and treated everyone the same. Xue Yan was merely included among those people.
The problem was that Xue Yan had developed feelings for him that were anything but ordinary, and without realizing it, he had already become greedy.
In the past, all he had asked for was that Jun Huailang smile at him the way he smiled at everyone else.
But now, he no longer wanted merely that uniform, all-purpose tolerance.
People were, after all, creatures who always wanted more once they had received a little.
“Ah, right. There is something I wanted to say,” Jun Huailang suddenly said with a smile.
Xue Yan’s gaze immediately fixed on his face.
Jun Huailang lifted his wine bowl and held it toward Xue Yan, clearly intending to clink bowls with him.
“I left the palace in such a hurry last time that I never had the chance to thank Your Highness properly. Your Highness saved my life. I am eternally grateful.”
His smile was utterly sincere—so sincere that it contained no unnecessary emotion whatsoever. It was simply genuine gratitude.
Xue Yan did not want his gratitude.
He could not find the words. His heart felt clogged with something heavy. Without saying anything or clinking bowls with Jun Huailang, he tilted his head back and drained the wine in his bowl.
The strong liquor burned down his throat and scorched its way into his stomach.
Xue Yan did not feel it at all.
Seeing him drink so fiercely, Jun Huailang was startled. He was just about to advise him to slow down when he noticed that Xue Yan’s expression seemed somewhat displeased.
…Who had offended him?
Beside them, Jun Xiaowu instead let out an excited “Oh!” and picked up the wine pot to refill Xue Yan’s bowl.
“His Highness the Fifth Prince certainly has a good tolerance for alcohol!” he praised.
Xue Yan said nothing.
“Are you here on official business today?” Jun Xiaowu asked eagerly.
Xue Yan gave a faint hum, but his gaze turned toward Jun Huailang. He changed the subject.
“Why are you two here?”
Jun Huailang paused and was about to answer, but Jun Xiaowu, utterly incapable of reading the room, grinned and said, “We’re here to see my brother off! Your Highness arrived at just the right time—you can see him off too.”
Sure enough, those words caught Xue Yan’s attention.
He looked at Jun Xiaowu and asked, word by word, “…See him off?”
Jun Xiaowu met his gaze and was inexplicably intimidated by those deep, sharp eyes. For a moment, he could only close his mouth awkwardly.
Jun Huailang, however, spoke up from beside him.
“Yes. I haven’t had the chance to tell Your Highness yet.”
Xue Yan looked toward him and saw him smile at him gently and calmly.
“I will soon be accompanying my father south to Jiangnan. I never got the chance to bid Your Highness farewell. I am truly at fault for that.”
Xue Yan stared at him.
He was leaving.
If Xue Yan had not happened to come here today, Jun Huailang would probably have departed without a word, leaving Xue Yan unable to find him anywhere in all of Chang’an.
And yet Jun Huailang remained as calm and unconcerned as ever, as though… being separated from Xue Yan did not matter to him in the slightest.
Xue Yan’s fingers unconsciously tightened around the rim of his wine bowl.
For more than a month, he had been trapped in a state of restlessness every day, like someone wandering through a desert in search of water without finding a single drop.
Today, he had suddenly stumbled upon a water source.
Yet, instead of easing his thirst, it had only made his desperation grow more intense.
Slowly, he withdrew his gaze.
He had never known what he wanted before.
But now, he seemed to understand, at least vaguely.
At the very least, what he wanted right now was to keep Jun Huailang by his side, so that he could not go anywhere.
He also wanted Jun Huailang to put away that gentle expression he showed to everyone alike. Even if Jun Huailang hated him or scolded him, that would still be better than being treated no differently from anyone else.
He wanted to become the one and only person before Jun Huailang who could keep him from leaving.
This impulse surged restlessly through Xue Yan’s heart, leaving him agitated and unsettled. Especially now, with Jun Huailang actually smiling as though nothing were wrong while saying goodbye to him, it was like a spark falling into a pile of dry kindling, setting his reason ablaze.
For a moment, he wanted to stop Jun Huailang by any means necessary.
Just then, Xue Yan met Jun Huailang’s clear eyes.
They were dark and deep, like a pool of rich ink, filled with quiet amusement as they gazed steadily at him.
A cool spring poured over the fire in Xue Yan’s heart. With a soft hiss, it extinguished the flames that had just been raging.
No one knew what twisted thoughts had flashed through Xue Yan’s mind moments earlier. They only saw him lift his wine bowl and take another large drink.
“How long will you be gone?” he asked, as though he had just suffered a defeat, leaving his heart filled with nothing but resignation and dejection.
Even if he had the ability to tie Jun Huailang down and keep him there, he was afraid he would frighten him.
Naturally, Jun Huailang had no idea what kind of struggle was taking place in Xue Yan’s heart. Hearing the question, he answered with a faint smile.
“If nothing unexpected happens, I should be able to return in two or three years.”
If something unexpected happens…
Then, naturally, he could not say for certain.
Yet Xue Yan looked steadily at him. Though his tone had not changed, it somehow carried a firm resolve that struck with unmistakable weight.
“There won’t be any accidents,” he said.
Jun Huailang looked at him and, for some inexplicable reason, felt a little reassured.
He paused, then smiled.
“Mm. There won’t be any accidents,” he said with a nod.
Xue Yan’s gaze was gently scorched by that smile. He turned away and tilted his head back, draining the wine in his bowl.
Outside the window, the sun had completely disappeared beyond the mountains. A full moon hung high above the distant hills, illuminating the endless wilderness beyond.
Two or three years.
Even two or three months would be too long.
Xue Yan’s gaze settled on the moon.
The young had never known the bitterness of sorrow, yet today, he tasted the agony of wanting something he could not have.
He had long been accustomed to suffering, and the cold had forged an impenetrable armor around him. But then, a spring breeze had suddenly brushed past and lingered around him, allowing his icy skin to feel warmth for the first time.
The ice covering his body had melted, but he had begun to resent the fleeting nature of that warmth. He wanted to keep the wind, to hold it inside his heart, to possess it completely.
But after lingering for only a moment, the wind blew away again.
That wind was gentle enough to carry warmth to all living things, yet it would not stop for him.
Only because, in the eyes of the wind, he was merely one ordinary person among all living beings.
And yet he had fallen in love with that wind.