“I have been ordered to stand watch here and protect Lord Shu’s safety.”
The man’s voice was unnaturally hoarse as he turned around and replied with his head lowered.
“Ordered?” Shu Changyu frowned as he walked toward him. “By whose orders? I certainly didn’t give such a command.”
He wasn’t watching to the side.
Just then, two inn servants were carrying a large wooden bathtub into the room. The tub blocked everyone’s view, and they nearly walked straight into Shu Changyu.
The guard reacted instantly.
He grabbed Shu Changyu and pulled him aside.
Shu Changyu was yanked directly into the man’s hard armor, wrapped in the icy cold of the metal breastplate.
Looking up—
he saw that familiar face.
The owner of it stared at him helplessly, bright eyes sparkling with unmistakable joy.
The astonishment on Shu Changyu’s face instantly turned cold.
He shoved the man away.
The other lowered his head without saying a word.
After the servants finished bringing everything inside, they quietly withdrew.
Shu Changyu immediately turned and entered the room.
The guard followed close behind.
And casually shut the door behind him.
“Jing Mu! Sneaking all the way here without permission—are you trying to make trouble?”
Shu Changyu snapped.
The next second, he found himself enveloped once more in that cold, hard embrace of armor.
Jing Mu whispered beside his ear,
“Shifu… I missed you so much.”
The warm softness of his breath against Shu Changyu’s ear stood in sharp contrast to the icy hardness of the armor pressing against him.
For a moment, Shu Changyu couldn’t find any words.
His ears and chest both grew warm.
Even the emptiness and loneliness that had haunted him these past few days disappeared without a trace.
Closing his eyes briefly in Jing Mu’s embrace, he looked almost as though he had resigned himself to fate.
After a moment, he said coldly,
“I’m asking you a question, Jing Mu.”
“I watched you all day today.”
Jing Mu continued.
“I want to kiss you.”
Shu Changyu immediately pushed him away.
His ears were so red they looked ready to bleed.
“Jing Mu!”
he warned in a low voice.
“My hand hasn’t healed yet, so I can’t write.”
Jing Mu leaned against him again, wrapping both arms lightly around him as though he had no intention of letting go.
“So I told Father Emperor I wanted to come out with you for a while.”
“Don’t worry, Shifu.”
“This time, I came with an imperial decree.”
Shu Changyu frowned and tried to push him away again.
“Shifu… just let me hold you for a little while.”
His hand stopped.
Taking advantage of the moment, Jing Mu drew him fully into his arms, resting his chin upon Shu Changyu’s shoulder as he let out a contented sigh.
And yet…
how could Shu Changyu not feel the same joy and reassurance within that icy embrace?
Especially after deliberately staying away from him these past several days, feeling unsettled every waking moment…
“Jing Mu.”
Shu Changyu spoke softly.
“This is improper.”
“But to my heart…”
Jing Mu answered,
“…it feels perfectly right.”
His voice carried a lazy nasal softness.
“Shifu…”
“I really…”
“…like you so much.”
Ridiculous…
Utterly ridiculous.
Shu Changyu clenched his teeth.
Pretending not to hear, he pushed Jing Mu away and asked,
“How is your hand now? It’s still injured, yet you’re riding a horse?”
“It’s nothing serious.”
Jing Mu smiled.
“I’m going to bathe and change.”
Shu Changyu continued.
“You can leave.”
Jing Mu didn’t answer.
He simply remained standing there.
“Leave.”
Shu Changyu repeated, frowning.
Jing Mu reluctantly nodded.
“Then… after Shifu finishes bathing, call for me.”
“Weren’t you ordered to stand guard outside all night?”
Shu Changyu raised an eyebrow.
“If that’s the case, then a gentleman’s word is as good as his bond.”
“You may stand outside and keep watch.”
Jing Mu let out an almost inaudible snort.
“Tomorrow, take some of the men and return to the capital.”
Shu Changyu continued.
“I don’t need so many people following me just to inspect the riverways.”
“And I certainly don’t need the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review accompanying me.”
“Shifu…”
“Besides,” Shu Changyu said, “the Court of Judicial Review has countless matters every day. Even if you can’t write, don’t you still need to supervise?”
“When one holds an office, one should fulfill its duties.”
“Stop behaving like a child.”
Jing Mu remained silent.
Then he opened the door…
and left.
—
Once the door had closed, Shu Changyu went behind the screen, changed out of his clothes, and settled into the bathtub.
Outside the capital, everything became much more desolate.
Especially near the border.
There were fewer trees, and at night the wind howled like ghosts, rattling the paper windows relentlessly.
Sitting in the warm water, listening to the mournful wind outside, Shu Changyu found himself feeling a little cold.
Without warning, he remembered the icy armor that had wrapped around him when Jing Mu hugged him earlier.
It must be cold outside the door too.
Though he had said Jing Mu should stand guard all night…
he couldn’t possibly be that heartless.
His plan had only been to make Jing Mu stand there for a little while before calling him inside, at least to sleep on the couch in his room.
But the disobedient brat who had secretly followed him here still deserved a lesson.
Thinking that way, Shu Changyu couldn’t even enjoy his bath.
The sound of the wind outside left him increasingly uneasy.
After soaking only a short while, he slipped on his inner robe and stepped out of the tub.
He draped an outer robe over his shoulders before walking toward the door.
“Jing Mu.”
he called coldly.
Ordinarily, that boy would have rushed eagerly through the door at once, rubbing that freezing suit of armor against him again.
Instead—
after his voice faded…
only silence answered.
Didn’t he hear because I spoke too softly?
Shu Changyu paused before raising his voice.
“Jing Mu.”
Only the mournful wind outside replied.
Frowning, Shu Changyu stepped forward and opened the door.
A blast of cold air rushed straight at him.
He shivered all over.
His damp hair instantly became ice cold.
But the long second-floor corridor of the inn…
was completely empty.
Not a single person remained.
—
That night…
Shu Changyu slept terribly.
At one point deep into the night, he suddenly awoke in a daze.
Without even putting on an outer robe, he jumped out of bed, hurried to the door, and flung it open.
The icy night air immediately jolted him fully awake.
Standing before the empty corridor, he thought,
Who exactly am I looking for?
Surely…
it couldn’t be Jing Mu.
It absolutely couldn’t.
He was a prince.
He was destined to become emperor.
There was no possibility whatsoever.
Shu Changyu stood there for quite some time.
Only after sneezing did he finally realize what he was doing.
He closed the door and returned to bed.
For the rest of the night…
he never slept again.
What occupied his thoughts during those long hours…
only he himself would ever know.
—
The next morning, when he went downstairs for breakfast, Shu Changyu still hadn’t seen Jing Mu.
Guo Hanru shared a table with him, while the other guards sat scattered throughout the dining hall.
Guo Hanru poured him a cup of tea and asked whether he had slept well.
Shu Changyu answered absentmindedly with a quiet “Mm.”
His eyes, however, casually swept around the room.
Jing Mu was nowhere to be found.
Where could he have gone?
Could he really have listened to me… and gone back?
After a pause, Shu Changyu dismissed the thought himself.
Impossible.
Since when has that boy ever listened when it truly mattered?
Even after finishing breakfast, Shu Changyu remained distracted.
Guo Hanru vaguely sensed something was wrong.
But as a minor sixth-rank official who had spent over forty years failing to climb the ranks, he had never mastered the art of reading his superiors.
So he simply pretended not to notice.
When Shu Changyu walked outside to board the carriage…
he saw that the position beside its left side stood empty.
The timid little guard—
the one who always kept his head lowered in fear of being recognized—
was gone.
An inexplicable surge of irritation welled up inside Shu Changyu.
Frowning, he demanded,
“Where is the guard assigned to this position?”
Guo Hanru nearly jumped out of his skin.
How should I know where that honored ancestor has run off to?
“Th-this… I… I don’t know, Lord Shu…”
he stammered.
“You don’t even know when one of your guards is missing?”
Shu Changyu rebuked coldly.
“Then what exactly are you here for?”
Guo Hanru was left speechless.
After a long moment he stammered,
“I… this humble official will go investigate… and find out who’s missing…”
Of course he would find nothing.
That honored gentleman’s name had never appeared on the roster of accompanying guards.
And technically…
the position beside the left side of the carriage had always been vacant.
No one was ever assigned there.
Naturally, Guo Hanru didn’t dare explain any of that.
Of course…
even without hearing it…
Shu Changyu already knew.
He knew perfectly well whom his anger had truly been directed toward.
Poor Guo Hanru had merely wandered into the line of fire and become the scapegoat.
Without another word, Shu Changyu climbed into the carriage and lowered the curtain.
It’s better that he left.
It saves me worry… and saves me from having to bear responsibility for him.
Besides… having him tagging along serves no purpose at all.
All he does is keep provoking me.
It’s better this way.
With that thought, Shu Changyu once again resumed the journey toward the Zhili Prefectural Office.
—
Having stood in the cold breeze while half asleep the previous night, Shu Changyu’s throat had begun itching by now.
He couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing.
By the time they stopped for lunch, he looked exhausted.
The corners of his eyes and the tip of his nose were flushed red.
He appeared listless…
almost pitiful.
Knowing Lord Shu’s health had always been delicate, and seeing that he had somehow caught a chill in early summer after days of travel, Guo Hanru hurriedly had someone fetch him a cloak.
But among the travelers were only soldiers and officials.
None had the slightest experience caring for an invalid.
“It’s nothing.”
Shu Changyu calmly fastened the cloak around himself.
“It’s only a minor illness.”
“There’s no need to make such a fuss.”
No sooner had he spoken than another sneeze escaped him.
His expression darkened as he took a sip of hot tea.
“Don’t concern yourselves with me.”
he added.
Guo Hanru hurriedly acknowledged the order.
Soon afterward, the procession set out once more.
Wrapped in his cloak, Shu Changyu sat inside the carriage.
Farther from the capital, the official road grew rough.
The constant jolting made him increasingly dizzy.
Rocked by the carriage’s uneven movement…
he gradually drifted into sleep.
Before losing consciousness, he couldn’t help grumbling to himself.
Where exactly did Jing Mu go?
He quietly followed me here… then quietly disappeared again.
He couldn’t even bother telling anyone before leaving.
At that very moment—
an arrow suddenly shot out from the roadside.
With a sharp crack—
it embedded itself into the wooden wall of the carriage.
Shu Changyu instantly jerked awake.
Opening his eyes, he saw the arrow lodged barely three inches before his face.
Its silver tip gleamed coldly.
A faint green sheen suggested poison.
Then chaos erupted outside.
The sounds of clashing blades and fierce combat rang through the air.
Someone…
had come to kill him again.
—
Over a hundred miles away in the capital—
the Empress’s son, the fourteen-year-old Third Prince Jing Shao, sat alone by the window, playing a game of chess against himself.
“If you wish to eliminate someone’s power…”
“…you must first sever his left and right arms.”
A satisfied smile spread across his face as he murmured to himself.
Mother only knows how to make trouble for Jing Mu.
What’s the point of that?
If you’re going to kill…
Then first you eliminate the one who binds Jing Mu to the Shu family…
That person.
Click.
He placed another stone upon the board.
In an instant, the white pieces’ last path to survival was sealed.
Victory…
was already decided.