Chapter 8

Prince Rui shivered.

He was in Shoukang Palace, visiting the Empress Dowager.

A few days ago, the Empress Dowager caught a cold and couldn't stop coughing. After Prince Rui learned of this, he repeatedly submitted memorials to request an audience, and was only granted permission to enter the palace today.

"My son, have you also caught my illness?" The Empress Dowager covered her mouth with a handkerchief, coughed a few times, and leaned back, afraid of infecting Prince Rui.

The Empress Dowager was over forty, but still a beautiful woman.

Only the corners of her eyes had fine laugh lines, and her voice was very gentle.

Prince Rui came back to his senses and shook his head with a smile, "Mother, your son is strong and healthy. How could I get sick so easily? Don't worry about it, just take good care of your health. Now that the end of the year is approaching, and there is no empress in the harem, everyone is counting on you."

Speaking of this, the Empress Dowager's expression became a little serious.

"I have tried several times, but the emperor refuses to establish an empress. Do you think he really doesn't want to, or..."

Prince Rui: "Mother, no matter what the emperor thinks, as long as there is no empress in the harem for a day, the power is in your hands, which is beneficial to you."

As soon as Emperor Jingyuan was mentioned, the Empress Dowager's expression turned ugly.

This was not surprising. Shoukang Palace seemed good, but it was not orthodox. Throughout history, which Empress Dowager did not live in Cining Palace?

"The emperor's temper is so stubborn, and the entire court is unhappy. If he continues like this, humph, I'd like to see how long he can be so defiant." The Empress Dowager's voice was a little cold.

Prince Rui patted the Empress Dowager's hand comfortingly, "Mother, don't worry. Everyone knows your good intentions."

"Although I don't want him to marry into a high-ranking family, I haven't been harsh on him. But he treats me more like an enemy," the Empress Dowager frowned, "Forget it, why think about him? My son, you are not my own flesh and blood, I can't count on you. Now, Mother can only rely on you."

Prince Rui said softly, "Don't say such things casually in the palace."

"This is my Shoukang Palace, not the emperor's Qianming Hall." The Empress Dowager released her hand and slowly leaned back on the soft couch, a hint of sarcasm on her face, "He was able to ascend the throne because the late emperor died suddenly, otherwise..."

Her voice was tinged with jealousy and hatred.

One day you're in heaven, the next you're in hell.

It was truly a world-shattering change, but there was nothing she could do.

Prince Rui lowered his eyes, not without disappointment in his heart.

After all, before his father passed away, his words had already revealed a few hints. If there were no accidents, the position of crown prince would definitely be his.

But it was just one trip out of the palace. When he came back, his father was seriously ill in bed and couldn't even speak. At that time, his mother only knew how to panic and didn't know to take the opportunity to plan. Helian Duan had a plan, but he didn't expect his father to die so quickly... All his efforts were in vain.

Without a will, without a verbal edict, the civil and military officials did not dare to go against the world and bypass Helian Rong, who was the legitimate son and the eldest brother, to let Helian Duan ascend the throne. Therefore, he could only watch as Helian Rong ascended the throne, while he became the thirteenth prince, with the title of Rui.

Helian Rong became the ruler, and he became a subject.

How could Prince Rui be reconciled?

At that time, if he had been given a little more time, he might not have...

Prince Rui concealed the ambition in his eyes, instructed the Empress Dowager on many things, and only left the palace before noon.

After getting on the carriage, Prince Rui closed his eyes.

A personal guard dressed as a servant boy came over and said softly, "Your Highness, Chen Xuanming has been rescued. A similar corpse was used to replace his identity, his face was slashed, and on the list of exiles, 'Chen Xuanming' is already dead."

Prince Rui laughed, "Excellent."

It was really good.

He had been reborn. Although he woke up at an inopportune time, after Emperor Jingyuan had already ascended the throne, he also had confidence.

How could he, who was familiar with later developments, be trapped and killed like in his previous life?

He must take back everything that belonged to him!

...

"Achoo, achoo—"

In the North Wing, in the eunuch's room, on the bed in the corner by the door, a person was curled up. He was lying on his side, his head not even showing, tightly wrapped in his quilt, as if he were asleep.

When Wuyou came in, he heard Jingzhe sneezing.

"Jingzhe, if you're sick, you should eat something." Wuyou brought him two steamed buns. Fearing they would get cold, he had kept them in his clothes. "If you don't get up, I'll pull off your quilt."

Wuyou had a good relationship with Changshou, and his relationship with Jingzhe was not bad either. He was a cheerful person, lived a carefree life, and didn't have many schemes.

Hearing Wuyou's approaching footsteps, Jingzhe had no choice but to lift the quilt, revealing a stuffy, red head with messy hair, which made him look a little dazed.

Wuyou burst out laughing.

He rarely saw Jingzhe in such a messy state.

Jingzhe was listless, his eyes were wet, and his nose was a little red, which made him look like he had a fever. After Wuyou finished laughing, he dragged a stool over, sighed, and broke the steamed bun to feed Jingzhe.

"What's wrong with the North Wing recently? One thing after another. Matron Ming is like that, and Talented Lady Yao... now you're sick too. If this continues, should we pray to the gods to get rid of the bad luck?"

He muttered.

Yesterday, Talented Lady Yao passed away, and the other palace servants had to deal with the funeral arrangements. If it weren't for Jingzhe being sick, he would have had to go too. Wuyou had found a spare moment, said hello to Mingyu, and came back to feed Jingzhe.

Sure enough, Jingzhe hadn't gotten up at all.

Jingzhe chewed mechanically for a few mouthfuls before saying, "What about Talented Lady Yao's matter... how is it?"

"What else can be done?" Wuyou sighed, "Just like that. They said it was suicide. The Empress Dowager rewarded a coffin and some silver. I think it's good enough if they can keep it for seven days and send it to the underground palace."

Talented Lady Yao passed away in the North Wing, but she was an elder after all. Of course, the wake could not be held in the North Wing. The Empress Dowager was thoughtful and specially designated a palace for the wake, but it could not be in the main hall, so it was held in the side hall.

These few days, the people in the North Wing were probably going to be very busy.

Wuyou fed Jingzhe two more mouthfuls. Suddenly, he saw Jingzhe, who was wrapped up like a dumpling, loosen the quilt, reach out his hand, and say with some shame, "I'll just hold it and eat."

Wuyou laughed heartily, "It's nothing, let me feed you a few mouthfuls."

He stuffed everything into Jingzhe's hands and then looked at him carefully. But the more he looked, the more worried he became.

"Jingzhe, don't hide it from me. Are you seriously ill?"

He reached out to grab Jingzhe, but Jingzhe subconsciously dodged back, and his grip on the steamed bun tightened.

Jingzhe's breathing was a little shaky. He let out a heavy breath, forced a smile, and shook his head.

"I'm fine."

Wuyou was suspicious, "Are you really fine?" But if he was really fine, why was it that the more he stared, the redder Jingzhe's face became, looking like he had a fever?

Jingzhe's grip on the steamed bun was so tight that it almost sank in, leaving obvious marks. He tried to control his breathing to avoid being too rapid and arousing Wuyou's suspicion.

...Can you please stop looking at him?

At first, Jingzhe didn't feel the viciousness of this buff.

Last night, when his shoulder was patted, he only felt a strange numbness. After he rolled himself up to block the gazes, he fell asleep.

But when he woke up in the morning, he just went out to get water, and almost everyone he saw would greet him, including a few palace maids who were originally a little indifferent to eunuchs.

Every single person would stare at him.

Stare. Gaze.

—"Gaze".

Jingzhe truly realized what terrible consequences this buff would bring.

Under the "gaze" of so many people, his body became so sensitive that he couldn't even stand his clothes. Every time the rough cloth rubbed against his skin, it would cause his body to tremble slightly.

His face changed drastically, and he immediately pretended to be sick.

Everyone saw that his eyes were red, his breathing was rapid, and his skin was hot, so naturally, they had no doubts. Except for Changshou who muttered a few words, everyone was telling him to go back and rest.

Jingzhe forced himself to report to Chen Mingde, then hid back in his room and had been lying there until now.

Avoiding the gazes of others did calm the heat wave.

But the heightened sense of touch could not be lowered no matter what. If it weren't for Wuyou coming to find him, Jingzhe was afraid that he would have maintained a stiff posture until night.

Now, Wuyou was afraid that he was seriously ill and wouldn't say, so he kept looking at Jingzhe carefully. But he never thought that the more he "looked", the more it was like being roasted on a fire for Jingzhe.

Just as Jingzhe was about to stop him, someone called from outside the door.

"Wuyou, hurry up, what are you doing?"

It was Changshou who came back to pack up Talented Lady Yao's old things and called Wuyou away by the way.

Wuyou looked at the door, then turned back and frowned, "You should rest. Later, I'll talk to Mingyu and see if I can get you some hot soup."

Jingzhe forced himself to watch him leave. When there was no one in the room, he collapsed on the bed.

He covered his mouth and trembled twice. His legs unconsciously intertwined, and the bare insteps of his feet rubbed against the quilt, venting his suppressed lust.

When he realized what he was doing, Jingzhe's face turned pale.

If this continued, wouldn't he expose his identity?

He struggled to get up, changed his clothes and socks, and tried to wrap himself up, not even showing his fingers. He staggered out.

The wind was cold outside, and the snow was falling. The cold sobered Jingzhe up a bit, and it was more comfortable than being in the room.

He pulled his hat down low to cover his face.

After such a big incident, most of the people in the North Wing were moved to deal with Talented Lady Yao's funeral. Even Matron Ming and Chen Mingde were not there. Only Heye was left to serve the masters, but she was not in this row of houses.

Jingzhe walked to the narrow door. It was closed, but not locked.

Tonight, when everyone came back, Jingzhe might still be able to hold on. But if Mingyu and Wuyou were concerned about him, saw him a few more times, and said a few more words, then Jingzhe would definitely break down.

Three days... today was only the second day.

He had to hold on for one more day.

Thinking of the long day today, Jingzhe's mouth was full of bitterness.

Where could he hide?

Jingzhe touched the rough wooden door, touched it and let go, clenched his fists tightly, and relied on the stinging pain of his nails digging into his flesh to endure the chaotic and strange heat flow.

He couldn't even touch things now.

What kind of broken body, what kind of broken buff?

His breathing was rapid. He swallowed hard a few times and barely managed to clear his thoughts.

Talented Lady Yao's funeral required manpower, and most of the people in the North Wing had gone. They were also the ones who would be on night watch. Few people would be able to come back tonight, and maybe no one would come back.

Even if he went out and stayed overnight in another palace, it would be troublesome if he was caught.

He might as well continue to stay in the North Wing, pretend to be sick, and not wake up no matter what.

But right now, returning to that bed would always make Jingzhe uncomfortable. Before it got dark, it was better to stay outside in the cold and wake up...

He pushed open the door, swayed, and sat down on the threshold, curling up into a ball.

The snow was still falling, covering Jingzhe.

His breath was still hot.

Rustle—Rustle—

The footsteps, from far to near, sounded a little familiar. Jingzhe, who was lying on his knees, thought tiredly, who is back... he has to get up, go back...

No.

These footsteps...

Jingzhe suddenly raised his head and met a slightly cold gaze.

Rong Jiu, whom he hadn't seen for a long time, was looking down at him. His usually calm voice was mixed with a bit of amusement, "What are you... doing here?"

Rong Jiu was "looking" at him.

Jingzhe's fingers, which were gripping his arm, were so tight that they cramped.

He had never thought that he would be so sensitive to the gazes of others, as if the ordinary act of "gazing" had been stained with a lewd color.

Jingzhe's body trembled, like a bowstring that was stretched to its limit and was about to break.

The fire that had been ignited by countless gazes had almost burned him dry.

"I..." Every word Jingzhe said was like dancing on the tip of a knife, "I'm here, resting my feet, and then, I'll go back..."

He hid his trembling fingers in his clothes and was about to turn and leave.

"Jingzhe."

Rong Jiu called him.

He rarely called him by his name. The rare sentence made Jingzhe finally turn back and look at the eyes that had not moved away.

And that beautiful face.

Sizzle—

Jingzhe could no longer suppress the strangeness of his body. He grabbed Rong Jiu's sleeve and knelt on the ground. His cramping fingers tore the cloth, and he gasped violently, "Ugh..."

...He would die of this bad habit one day.