Murong Qiufeng frowned, rubbing at his temples before stepping inside.
On the bed, Yuntian’s handsome face had lost all color, his whole body looking more like a corpse than a living man. His breath was so faint it was nearly gone. Qiufeng’s chest tightened—at Mufeng Tower, aside from Yun Feiyang, it had always been Yuntian who looked after him. He had long regarded Yuntian as an older brother. Now, seeing him hanging on the brink of death and being utterly helpless to save him, guilt cut even deeper. He was supposed to be a part of Mufeng Tower, yet he had never truly done anything for it.
“Enough,” Shangguan Ye’s voice came from behind. “I know what’s weighing on your mind. I’ve already sent Huan to investigate. We’ll have news soon. And don’t forget the old saying—‘pests live a thousand years.’ Yun Feiyang isn’t the type to fall so easily.” His words were meant to soothe, though there was honesty in them.
Though Shangguan Ye had never liked Yun Feiyang, he still respected him. Hero recognized hero. Once, he had even thought of joining forces with Mufeng Tower, but war and circumstance left no room. Later, when Qiufeng and Yun Feiyang openly clashed, cooperation became impossible.
Yes, he wanted Yun Feiyang defeated—he might even enjoy seeing him die—but not at the hands of crooked, underhanded tricks. That would be too cheap, too beneath him. And Shangguan Ye hated nothing more than those kinds of people.
“I want to go to Mufeng Tower,” Qiufeng said at last, sighing deeply. No matter how much Shangguan Ye tried to comfort him, he couldn’t find peace otherwise.
Shangguan Ye’s brow furrowed instantly. “No. I won’t allow it.” Anything else, he could compromise on—but not this. If Mufeng Tower was unharmed, fine. But if something really had gone wrong, Qiufeng walking straight into the den was no different than a lamb stepping into a wolf’s maw. Even Yuntian and Yun Feiyang—both far stronger and sharper than Qiufeng—were lying broken and poisoned. What chance would he have?
Qiufeng frowned as well, turning to him helplessly. “Ye, I—”
“Unless I go with you, don’t even think about it,” Shangguan Ye cut him off, his tone sharp, eyes narrowed. When it came to Qiufeng’s safety, there was no discussion to be had.
Qiufeng pressed his lips together. “No. You’re not part of Mufeng Tower, and the court business isn’t over yet. You can’t just walk away. And besides, you’re still recovering—you can’t afford a long journey.”
Shangguan Ye’s lips curled in a sly smile. “I may not be one of Mufeng Tower, but you are mine. As for the court—option one: I set it aside and go with you. Option two: you wait until things are settled here, Yuntian wakes up, and then we go together. Take your pick.”
“Ye—”
“Two choices. No third,” Shangguan Ye pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him. “And don’t forget—the Murong family is still in the middle of trial. You’d really walk away now? Even if you want to sever ties, you’ll need to deal with the aftermath. Or do you plan to let the emperor seize the chance to wipe out the rest of your clan?”
Qiufeng froze, then shut his eyes, massaging his brow again. He had been so focused on Yuntian and his brother that he’d nearly forgotten—the trial wasn’t over. If he left now, things might spiral even further, and if the emperor struck while they were gone, it could mean the end of the Murong family altogether.
Besides, he didn’t want Shangguan Ye risking his life alongside him either. Of course he knew how dangerous it might be. But as the master of Mufeng Tower, he had to confirm whether Yun Feiyang was still safe—or even still alive.
Shangguan Ye sighed, pulling down his hand and rubbing gently at his temple. “Wait a little longer, hm? And don’t forget—you promised me. Once I recover, we’ll consummate our marriage. Don’t even think about running away. Whatever happens, it happens after that.”
Qiufeng’s taut nerves unraveled at once, his face heating as he glared at him. “At a time like this, how can you be thinking about that?”
“That happens to be the most important thing to me,” Shangguan Ye said with a smirk, leaning close, his breath warm against Qiufeng’s ear. “Or are you trying to go back on your word? I’ll have you know—I’ve already healed quite a bit. Better get ready. Need me to give you some lessons first? On how to consummate?”
Qiufeng’s ears burned scarlet, his body stiffening like a startled rabbit. He stammered, unable to string words together.
That was Shangguan Ye’s skill—no matter the subject, no matter how grim Qiufeng’s mood, he could always find a way to pull him off track, to tease him until he softened.
“Wh-what do I need to prepare?” Qiufeng blurted suddenly, realizing he’d been dodging this detail. Shangguan Ye had always teased about consummating, but… two men… how was that even supposed to work?
A dark glint flashed in Shangguan Ye’s eyes. “Want to know? Why don’t we practice right now? Don’t worry—I’ll teach you everything.” He reached for his hand to tug him along.
Qiufeng panicked. “No—wait, you—”
But by the time he realized, he was already being pulled out the door. Flustered, he yanked his hand back, muttering, “You’re just trying to change the subject.”
Shangguan Ye turned, smiling slyly. “Change the subject? This is the subject I care about most.”
Qiufeng sighed, defeated. “Fine. Once Yuntian wakes up and we know the truth, then we’ll talk.”
Shangguan Ye slid an arm around his waist, his breath hot at his ear. “Now who’s changing the subject?”
Qiufeng’s face flushed crimson again, eyes darting away. “Not until you’re fully healed.”
“Oh? Heh. Remember you said that. The day I’m fully healed will be the day we consummate. I’ll make sure you’re completely mine.” He leaned in, stealing a kiss against Qiufeng’s cheek, smug and delighted. In his heart, it was clear—he’d already stolen the place Yun Feiyang once held in Qiufeng’s heart. That thought filled him with pride.
Qiufeng opened his mouth to argue, then gave up entirely. He pulled free and sat down heavily on the stone bench in the courtyard.
Shangguan Ye chuckled, following him—only for a servant to rush in, reporting breathlessly, “My lords, something has happened at the Court of Justice. Lord Hou Qianxing requests your immediate presence.”
The two men exchanged looks, dread twisting in their chests. Only two days ago, they had transferred the criminals—including Zhao Xiru—to the Court for trial. And now, trouble.
Both of them knew, in all likelihood, it was exactly what they feared.
Without wasting a moment, they issued quick instructions, then hurried off into the night.
