Chapter 70 Those Left Behind Will Go Crazy: "Your Highness, Don't Go!"

The fox slept very comfortably by himself. Tinglan's bedding and quilt must have been freshly aired; they smelled of soap and sunshine. It was really nice.

He stretched, put on his shoes, and went outside, but couldn't find Tinglan anywhere.

"Young Master, our Master has been extremely busy lately and has inevitably been somewhat negligent. Please forgive us."

The fox nodded blankly.

He couldn't understand it. Tinglan had been busy before, but he had always gone to the Directorate of Ceremonial with him. Why was it different now? Tinglan had left without saying a word.

Never mind, the little fox is magnanimous and won't hold it against you.

"The kitchen has prepared breakfast for the young master. Please come in."

The fox cheered and happily went to eat breakfast.

Inside the Directorate of Ceremonial, the paper in Tinglan's palm had been repeatedly crumpled, and he was unable to calm down no matter what.

He raised his hand and pressed his temples.

He kept replaying the scene from last night in his mind, and sat there blankly all morning, unable to concentrate on anything.

Tinglan could no longer hold back. He left the files on the table and turned to go to the backyard.

Sacrifices were forbidden in the palace, but Tinglan never paid attention to these rules. He lit the brazier, stared blankly at the rising flames, and slowly sprinkled the paper money in his hand into it.

"Is Your Highness doing well over there?" Tinglan asked softly.

The fire crackled and popped as it burned brightly.

Tinglan looked at the leaping flames and involuntarily reached out to touch them. Only after feeling the burning pain did he abruptly pull his hand back.

He stared at his fingers and murmured, "I met His Highness's friend today. He played you so well that I almost believed him."

The flickering flames reflected in Tinglan's eyes, and his brows furrowed, his expression suddenly showing a hint of panic and helplessness. "Should I not have told you these things... I've made you worry again."

He lowered his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Your Highness, rest assured, I will not kill myself. My life was saved by Your Highness; I have no right to die..."

"I am doing very well now, Your Highness, you don't need to worry about me, please go in peace."

Despite saying this, he actually practiced what he preached, living his life as Ji Qing's tombstone...

It's possible that the person left behind will go crazy. Tinglan himself didn't even realize it. He had gotten into the habit of anticipating the worst possible outcome and then forcing himself to accept it.

It seems that as long as you do this, nothing will go wrong.

He lowered his head and continued adding paper money to the brazier.

*

The fox had a wonderful morning of feasting and drinking, but couldn't find Tinglan anywhere.

He had been to this house once before and wasn't very familiar with it, so he became somewhat unhappy after spending half a day there.

What are you doing? Where did Tinglan go? Why didn't you take me with you? How annoying! I finally came back to see you, and you just left me aside.

Last night was the same; he said he was busy and then ran off. What's there to be busy about so late at night?

The fox sat there sulking, arms crossed, this was nothing like the reunion scene he had imagined.

Tinglan should have held him and cried, then kissed him, and then the two of them should have gone back together and gotten married happily.

The fox had already planned the menu for the wedding banquet: twenty roast chickens, a dozen chestnut cakes, and grape juice—that would be truly extravagant.

But... Tinglan actually left him behind, that doesn't make sense! Something must have happened.

The fox jumped off the chair and circled the room. He couldn't just stay there; he had to follow Tinglan.

Let's see what this guy is up to.

But now the problem is... which way should we go to track down Tinglan?

The fox racked his brains all morning but couldn't come up with a reliable plan.

Just as he was devising his meticulous plan, the door to the room was pushed open. The fox, without putting down the chicken leg in his hand, glanced up at Tinglan and then continued to gnaw on the chicken leg.

Hmph, come here and kiss me right now, and I'll forgive you.

But Tinglan simply sat at the other end of the table, showing no intention of touching her chopsticks, and just sat there watching the fox.

The fox, feeling his gaze, found it hard to swallow its food. It looked up, puzzled, and asked, "Why aren't you eating?"

"Thank you, I... have already eaten."

Whenever Tinglan saw a fox, he couldn't help but doubt his own guesses. If everything before him was true, he couldn't imagine how wonderful it would be, and he was willing to fall into eternal damnation for it.

At this moment, Tinglan's mind was in turmoil, a state of utter confusion. His temples throbbed, and strange noises rang in his ears.

He looked around, but there was no one else there. In a daze, the sound of metal clashing still lingered in his ears.

Just like when the craftsmen nailed that empty coffin shut, hammer by hammer.

He lost the little prince twice, and he dared not think about it, much less think of it in a positive light. The little prince's death had stripped him of his ability to feel pleasure.

Every extra minute he thought about it gave him a splitting headache, and a voice in his head cursed him for being absurd, ridiculous, and unrealistic.

But Tinglan was still staring blankly at the fox, lost in thought. The person in front of him, whether in tone or action, was almost exactly the same as the little prince... If it was imitation, would it be so similar?

His head ached terribly, as if someone, invisible and with a nail and hammer, was chiseling at his temples.

Clang, clang, clang, a strange sound came from somewhere and kept echoing.

Tinglan stretched out her trembling right hand to protect her forehead.

What if? What if the little prince in front of us is really him?

Once the thought arose in his heart, it was like a surge of life force, and Tinglan's fingertips regained some warmth.

He was about to say something, but before he could speak, the fox suddenly looked up and said, "I'm finished eating... I'm going out to play."

After saying that, he ran away in a flash.

Hehe, I'm going to find a place to lie in ambush and then follow Tinglan to see what he's up to.

This is my meticulous plan!

Watching his figure disappear, Tinglan lowered her head, feeling somewhat lost and helpless, and gasped for breath.

The strange noises stopped, and now there was complete silence, a deathly silence, isolating Tinglan alone in endless despair.

Tinglan stood up with great difficulty. He thought he should still ask to find out the truth, even if it was done indirectly.

He needed to understand, even if it meant enduring the pain of death once again.

But clearly, the fox had gone to ambush him, and didn't give him a chance to find himself.

Tinglan could only ask the steward, "Where did the young master go?"

The butler answered somewhat nervously, "The young master said he wanted to sleep and didn't want to be disturbed, so he locked the door."

Tinglan paused for a moment, then said, "Okay."

Since that's the case, let's talk about it tonight... He sat alone in the courtyard, staring at the fox's door for a long time, before finally sighing, turning around and getting into the carriage.

The fox lay in ambush in the flower bed, its paws almost numb from crouching. It shook the leaves off its fur, then darted forward, grabbed Tinglan's carriage, and crawled under it.

I want to see what you're up to. What could be more important than a kiss?

As he watched the man enter the Directorate of Ceremonial, the fox and dog stealthily climbed onto the roof. He knew the layout of the Directorate of Ceremonial very well; no matter where Tinglan went, he couldn't escape.

He lay on the roof with his tail drooping, watching Tinglan work.

The more I looked, the more something seemed off. It had been quite a while, and it seemed like Tinglan hadn't written a single word. You rascal, you're not busy at all.

The fox, puffing up its cheeks, grabbed its own tail and started pulling at its fur again.

Fortunately, before its tail went bald, Tinglan moved. The fox excitedly stood up, jumped down the wall, and scurried through the door along the base of the wall.

The fox tried its best to minimize its presence, keeping its four paws together and its tail tucked around them, hiding behind the curtain to peek out, only revealing its two pointed little ears and round eyes.

Tinglan hung her head, her breath trembling, her hands supporting her on the display shelf, her eyes filled with panic.

A voice was chasing him, following him like a shadow, like maggots clinging to his bones.

His left fingertips had dug into his palm, but because the wound had healed, he didn't feel anything.

He needs some real pain to clear his mind for a moment.

Tinglan trembled as he took off his gloves. He looked around at the incomprehensible spots of light before him. He couldn't find the knife, but he was forced to get rid of this terrifying auditory hallucination.

Tinglan bit down on her own tiger's mouth, and as the strong taste of rust filled her mouth, the pain arrived as expected.

Blood flowed down his pale palm, soaking his sleeves along his wrist.

Tinglan finally breathed a sigh of relief as the voices around her stopped.

He struggled, trying to straighten up.

Suddenly, a warm, dry hand grasped his left wrist.

The fox's voice trembled with a sob, "You won't stay with me, you'll just leave me here biting your own hand?"

"Your Highness?" Tinglan's eyes were blank. He let out a hoarse sob, like a drowning person finally grabbing a lifeline, struggling desperately and holding the fox tightly.

"Your Highness, please don't go, I beg you, please don't go..."

His voice was hoarse and unpleasant, as if he had been crying for a long time and his voice had been rubbed with sandpaper. "Or, take me with you."

The fox froze, head down, staring intently at Tinglan's hand hanging by his side.

He clearly remembered that this hand used to be smooth and delicate, but now it was covered with deep and shallow scars, some of which had healed, while others had scabs that had been pried open, revealing pink, tender flesh, and were covered in blood, a shocking sight.

“I’m not leaving… How did your hand get like this? Did someone bully you?” The fox hugged Tinglan and started sobbing. “I’m going to beat him up… Tell me, I’m going to beat him up.”

"As soon as I left, you were bullied again." Tears welled up in the fox's eyes and dripped onto Tinglan's shoulder.

"Ji Qing, is that you?" Ting Lan trembled as she cupped the fox's face in her hands, trying to make sure she could see it clearly.

"It's me," the fox sobbed. "When we first met, you gave me snacks, and later you taught me to ride a horse. Behind your back..."

Before the fox could finish speaking, Tinglan stepped forward and covered his mouth.

It was a kiss filled with the stench of blood, but it unexpectedly matched the fox's imagination.

"Wait a moment, I'll go get the medicine and bandages to bandage you." The fox released its grip on Tinglan's hand.

"No, Your Highness, don't go." Tinglan staggered and fell to the ground, clutching his clothes tightly.

His eyes were unfocused, and he kept repeating the same sentence, "Your Highness, don't go, don't leave me."

The fox looked down at Tinglan's still-bleeding hand. "What about your hand?"

"It's alright...it's alright, the bleeding will stop on its own." Tinglan held the fox's hand tightly, speaking haltingly and incoherently.

The fox didn't move anymore; he just sat on the ground, holding Tinglan.

The two nestled together until Tinglan stopped trembling.