Chapter 80
Su Zhelan's cheeks were burning hot, and she could still hear Sheng Xuan's hot breath and those outrageous words.
The air still seemed to be filled with the lingering scent of desire, mixed with the crispness of the ointment and Sheng Xuan's unique aroma, clinging to him in wisps, more suffocating than the steam from a hot spring.
Su Zhelan clenched her fists in frustration, her nails digging deep into her palms, trying to use the pain to dispel the unfamiliar restlessness in her heart and... a trace of lingering affection that she herself did not want to delve into.
He took a deep breath, forced himself to stand up, and walked to the bathtub behind the screen. He needed the bone-chilling cold water to rebuild that aloof and self-possessed demeanor.
However, just a few courtyards apart, the air felt as stagnant as lead.
Inside the deep council chamber, there weren't many lights or candles. Several huge bronze lamps illuminated the empty space and the silhouettes of the silent guards standing in the shadows.
Unlike the warm fragrance and lively atmosphere of Shuyuyuan, the air here is cold and bleak, filled with a tense and heavy sense of oppression.
In the main seat of the hall, Xiao Qiyun sat upright. The casual clothes that had made him appear gentle and composed in the Shuyu Courtyard were gone, replaced by a black brocade casual robe with dark dragon patterns embroidered in gold thread on the collar and cuffs.
The candlelight cast deep shadows on his face, completely erasing the warmth and tenderness he had shown towards Su Zhelan during the day, like spring sunshine melting snow. Now, his face was ashen, his thin lips pressed tightly together, and his deep eyes, in the shadows, appeared as two cold stars, sharp enough to pierce the heart, carrying a chilling ruthlessness born of long-held authority.
He was no longer the gentle young nobleman who guided Su Zhelan as she wrote, but the crown prince who held the power of life and death and whose mind was as deep as the abyss.
Sheng Chi stood below, his posture as straight as a spear, also dressed in a dark, practical outfit. His expression was solemn, and a heavy worry settled between his usually spirited brows.
“Tell me in detail.” Xiao Qiyun’s voice rang out, breaking the suffocating silence. His tone was not loud, but it was like ice cubes colliding, carrying a clearly audible chill, crashing heavily into the stagnant air.
"Your Highness, there's new progress on the matter of the Punishment Hall." Sheng Chi's voice was extremely low, as if afraid of disturbing the darkness lurking outside the hall. "Those remnants of the cult have finally spoken."
Xiao Qiyun tapped his long, slender fingers lightly on the table, the fingertips striking the sandalwood with a crisp sound. "Speak."
"First, the main force of the cult is currently hiding in the Misty Valley area, using the miasma as cover." Sheng Chi took out a sheepskin map from his pocket and pointed to an area circled in cinnabar in the northwest corner. "The terrain here is complex; our army suffered a setback here during our last encirclement and suppression operation."
Xiao Qiyun's gaze lingered on the map for a moment, his fingertip tracing the outline of the winding mountain range: "Continue."
Sheng Chi's Adam's apple bobbed: "Secondly, that old priest finally relented..." He paused, his voice lower, "He admitted that Young Master Su Zelan is indeed the holy son they have been searching for for many years."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the hall, causing the candlelight to flicker violently. The intense shadows distorted on the wall for a moment before returning to silence.
"There's another point," Sheng Chi continued, "although the cult activities on the border seem to have subsided recently, they've actually changed their strategy. They no longer gather in large groups, but instead disperse and blend into caravans and rotating soldiers."
He pulled a blood-stained strip of cloth from his pocket. "This was found at the third outpost on the right flank; it was wrapped in military rations and brought in."
"The strangest thing is," Sheng Chi's voice tightened even more, "that since Sheng Xuan was attacked, soldiers in the camp have been reporting the theft of medicine bottles. They're all..." He paused, "...the same kind of medicine bottle that Young Master Su Zhelan gave to General Sheng Xuan, regardless of what medicine was inside."
Xiao Qiyun suddenly stood up, the wind whipped up by his dark cloak nearly extinguishing the candlelight. His figure was shrouded in scorching light, his voice as cold as ice: "Your judgment?"
"My subordinates believe that the cult discovered the medicine bottle he threw during the attack on Sheng Xuan." Cold sweat beaded on Sheng Chi's forehead. "They recognized the unique effect of the Holy Son's blood, thus concluding that the Holy Son is in the military camp. Now they are lurking in the shadows, currently..."
"Screening." Xiao Qiyun interrupted coldly, his fingertips tracing the blood-eyed symbol on the cloth strip. "They're looking for someone who might be carrying this medicine." The Crown Prince's gaze suddenly sharpened like a knife.
Xiao Qiyun's finger moved slowly across the sheepskin map, finally stopping at the pass between Misty Valley and the military camp. The candlelight cast a deep shadow on his brow bone, concealing his sharp eyes in darkness.
"Your Highness," Sheng Chi's voice was hoarse and weary, "Given Young Master Su Zhelan's current situation, the border is probably..." He swallowed the words back, his shoulders under his armor tensing involuntarily.
"Danger?" Xiao Qiyun suddenly chuckled, the sound like a thin blade slicing through ice. "I know."
As he turned, the dark dragon pattern on his black robe flashed by in the candlelight. The prince's tall figure stopped at the window, gazing at the endless torches of the military camp in the distance. There were people he had to protect, and also a malignant tumor that urgently needed to be eradicated.
"The imperial decree cannot be disobeyed." Xiao Qiyun's voice suddenly softened, his knuckles unconsciously tracing the window frame. "General Sheng's term has a year and a half remaining." A splinter pierced his fingertip, drawing a drop of crimson blood. "But avoidance won't solve the problem."
Sheng Chi suddenly looked up. He saw the Crown Prince's back as steady as a mountain, but his shoulder line was even sharper than when he had arrived.
"This humble general is willing to lead elite troops straight to the Misty Valley!" Sheng Chi slammed one knee heavily on the ground, the sound particularly jarring in the still night. "Even if it costs me my life—"
"No rush." Xiao Qiyun suddenly turned around, his fingertips still stained with blood, but he placed them firmly on Sheng Chi's shoulder. "Thank you for your hard work, General. Getting those people to talk is already a great achievement."
The sound of a night patrol soldier's clapper came from outside the window; it was past midnight. Only then did Sheng Chi notice that the candlestick on the Crown Prince's desk was covered with a thick layer of wax dripping, and the dense red and black annotations along the edges of the map were all traces of the sleepless nights he had spent over the past two weeks.
Xiao Qiyun picked up the blood-stained strip of cloth and examined it closely by the candlelight: "This cult has been entrenched here for who knows how many years. Although the imperial court has sent troops to suppress it many times, its roots have long been embedded in every inch of the border."
The blood-red symbol gleamed eerily in the light. "To uproot it completely, you must first find the main root."
The candlelight flickered, casting varying shades of shadow between his brows.
"This matter requires careful consideration." The Crown Prince's voice suddenly softened, as if a taut bowstring had loosened a bit. He turned and walked to the window, his dark sleeves brushing against the military reports piled on the desk, stirring up a breeze carrying the scent of ink.
Sheng Chi's fists were still clenched tightly, his knuckles white: "But Your Highness, the cult has already—"
"I know." Xiao Qiyun raised her hand to stop him. Moonlight shone through the window lattice, cutting out lines of light and shadow on his well-defined profile.
"But acting rashly will only alert them." His fingertips unconsciously traced an old mark on the window frame. "You should go back and rest."
Sheng Chi clasped his hands in acceptance of the order, and as he retreated to the door, he couldn't help but glance at the prince one last time. The prince was still standing by the window, the moonlight gilding him with a silver edge, but it couldn't penetrate his unfathomable eyes.
The candlelight on the table flickered, casting his shadow long, long on the wall.
As the heavy door closed behind him, Sheng Chi heard a barely audible sigh from inside, as light as a snowflake falling on a sword blade, gone in an instant.
Xiao Qiyun stood outside the council hall, the night wind carrying the unique chill of the border region brushing against his robes. He looked up at the night sky; the moonlight was cold, the stars sparse, and the torches of the distant military camp stretched out like scattered fireflies.
He should have gone straight back to his own courtyard, but his feet moved uncontrollably toward the direction of Shuyu Courtyard.
Scattered fallen leaves lay on the stone path, making a soft, crisp sound underfoot. Xiao Qiyun's footsteps were very light, as if afraid of disturbing someone.
Turning into the corridor, the outline of Shuyu Courtyard appeared exceptionally quiet under the moonlight, and the wind chimes on the eaves were occasionally stirred by the wind, making a few crisp tinkling sounds.
The lights in the courtyard were off, and only moonlight shone through the window lattices, casting blurry shadows on the paper windows.
Xiao Qiyun stood outside the courtyard and watched quietly for a while.
He's asleep.
As the thought flashed through his mind, Xiao Qiyun's fingertips unconsciously rubbed against his cuff. A faint scent of herbs still lingered there, left by Su Zhelan when she bandaged him during the day.
As the night breeze grew cooler, Xiao Qiyun withdrew his gaze and turned to leave. His back was as straight as a pine tree, yet it exuded a subtle, almost imperceptible loneliness.
Let's come see him again tomorrow.
With these thoughts in mind, Xiao Qiyun set off on his way back to his courtyard.
Sheng Xuan also returned to her courtyard under the moonlight, her steps so light they seemed to fly.
When he pushed open the door, the wooden door creaked softly, a sound that was particularly clear in the quiet night.
There were no lights on inside; only moonlight shone through the window paper, casting a layer of silver frost on the floor.
He slammed the door shut behind him, then slid back against it and slowly sat down on the floor. His heart was still pounding violently in his chest, as if it were about to burst free from the confines of his ribs.
He raised his right hand and gently touched his lips with his fingertips—the warmth and touch of Su Zelan still lingered there, incredibly soft.
"Ha..." Sheng Xuan let out a suppressed chuckle, burying his burning face in his palms. The tips of his ears, peeking out between his fingers, were so red they were almost transparent in the moonlight.
He recalled Su Zhelan trembling in his arms, her usually clear eyes misted over, her lips turning crimson from his kisses...
A burning sensation began to rise somewhere in his body again. Sheng Xuan shook his head sharply, forcing himself to calm down. Now was not the time to think about these things—Su Zhelan had said to wait until he recovered...
After the injury heals.
The thought made Sheng Xuan's breathing quicken. He leaned against the door and stood up, staggering to the bedside, where he dragged a wooden box out from under the bed. The box was covered with a thin layer of dust, clearly indicating that it hadn't been opened for some time.
"I remember putting it in..." Sheng Xuan muttered softly, his fingers rummaging through the box. A few old clothes were tossed aside haphazardly, and finally, he pulled out a cloth bag from the bottom of the box. Untying the straps, he found several exquisitely bound picture books inside—the covers were blank, but the edges were already curled, indicating that they had been frequently read.
Sheng Xuan glanced around furtively, like a thief, even though he was alone in the room. He swallowed hard and carefully turned to the first page—
"hiss......"
Even after seeing it many times, Sheng Xuan was still stunned by the content of the painting. The exquisite brushwork was lifelike, with every detail meticulously rendered. His trembling fingers traced the pages, and his mind involuntarily replaced the face of the person in the painting with Su Zhelan's.
"If it were Zhelan..." Sheng Xuan murmured to himself, his Adam's apple bobbing. He imagined Su Zhelan lying beneath him, her usually aloof eyes glistening with desire, her fair skin flushed, her long, slender fingers gripping the sheets tightly...
When he turned to a certain page, Shengxuan's fingertips suddenly stopped. The porcelain bottle depicted in detail in the painting caught his attention—the small print next to it read, "Rose ointment from the Western Regions, used as a lubricant."
His breathing instantly became heavy as he suddenly remembered that tomorrow was the border's monthly market, where Western Region caravans would come to sell all sorts of exotic goods.
"I need to go buy it..." Sheng Xuan's voice was hoarse beyond belief, his fingers unconsciously stroking the delicate porcelain vase pattern on the page.
He recalled Su Zhelan's fragile appearance; without proper preparation, he feared he might have hurt him. This thought made Sheng Xuan's heart tighten, and he immediately resolved to sneak off to the market the next day.
"Bang!"
Sheng Xuan slammed the book shut, his forehead pressed against the cold cover. No, he couldn't think about it anymore. If he continued, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to resist rushing back to Shuyu Courtyard right now.
"I...I need to heal my injuries first..." Sheng Xuan said to himself, panting heavily. He forced himself to repackage the picture book, stuff it back into the bottom of the box, and then collapsed heavily onto the bed.
Moonlight streamed through the windowpanes, casting dappled shadows on him. Sheng Xuan stared at the rafters, his right hand unconsciously tracing the bandage on his left arm—the warmth of Su Zhelan's fingertips still lingered there. The gentle touch of the bandage, the cautious resistance during their passionate moments, and that final look in her eyes, a mixture of reproach and indulgence...
Sheng Xuan rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. The pillow smelled of sunshine, but it inexplicably reminded him of the faint herbal scent in Su Zhelan's hair. He tightened his arms, hugging the pillow to his chest, as if that could ease the burning desire in his chest.
"Three days..." Sheng Xuan's muffled voice came from under the pillow, "...in three days..."
Outside the window, a nightingale landed on a branch, its clear cry piercing the night sky. Sheng Xuan looked up at the bright moon outside the window, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.
Under the moonlight, the flames in the young general's eyes burned hotter than ever before.
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