Chapter 48.

Though it was just a coincidence that the scholar shared the same name as someone briefly mentioned in his dreams, Xue Shu couldn’t shake off a flicker of irritation.

He turned his head slightly, letting his gaze linger on the young scholar called Xie Yunchuan for a moment longer than necessary. One of the guards caught the look on Xue Shu's face and, eager to curry favor, struck the wooden bars of the prisoner’s cart sharply with the hilt of his blade. The loud thuds echoed, followed by a barked command: “Quiet!”

The scholars inside, who had been voicing their indignation, fell silent under the reprimand. Xue Shu, satisfied that Xie Yunchuan had shut his mouth, finally looked away and urged his horse forward to lead the group.

As the procession reached Qipan Street, Xue Shu spotted the Crown Prince’s grand carriage exiting the Daming Gate in the distance. He raised his hand, halting the group, and rode forward alone to greet the prince.

“Your Highness,” he called out with practiced deference, “good day.”

Yin Chengyu, the Crown Prince, lifted the curtain of his carriage and cast a glance toward Zheng Duobao, the attendant standing beside him. A subtle flick of his eyes was enough to send Zheng and the other guards retreating several paces to grant the two privacy for a quiet exchange.

The prince’s sharp gaze roamed over Xue Shu’s attire, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “What business keeps you occupied today, Supervisor Xue?”

Though their distance was formal—a mere half-step apart—Xue Shu’s bowing posture at the window made it look like they were locked in polite, distant discourse. No sign of impropriety. No one would guess at the underlying tension crackling between them.

Instead of answering the prince’s question, Xue Shu took advantage of the space granted by the guards’ retreat. Dropping his voice lower, he murmured, “I’ve seen Your Highness’s congratulatory gift.”

Yin Chengyu’s expression barely shifted, save for a knowing glint in his eyes. A single word escaped his lips, slow and deliberate: “Oh?”

Xue Shu’s lips curved into a small, restrained smile. “I liked it very much. Even the inscription… I understood its meaning.” He straightened slightly, his dark gaze trailing over the prince with unmasked greed. “But I must confess, I don’t quite grasp the purpose of the gag.”

The words hung in the air, loaded. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his piercing eyes gleaming with restrained heat.

Yin Chengyu took it in stride, his smirk deepening into something wicked. If anything, he seemed amused at how easily the man across from him had been stirred. He leaned back slightly, the slightest lift of his brows showing his taunt. His voice, however, was deliberately louder, almost mocking: “The gag serves a simple purpose, Supervisor Xue. It’s a reminder—for you to guard your tongue and stop biting without thought.”

The double meaning was razor-sharp, and those within earshot couldn’t help but reinterpret his words. They thought: Ah, it must be true. Xue Shu has fallen out of favor. Otherwise, why would the Crown Prince humiliate him so openly?

Yet Xue Shu, ever stoic under scrutiny, took it all with an air of humility. His lips pressed into a tight line as he murmured, just loud enough for the prince to hear, “I only bit once.”

And didn’t Your Highness bite back just as hard?

The unspoken thought simmered behind his composed expression as he resisted the urge to trace the faint marks hidden beneath the collar of his uniform. If anyone here had a biting problem, it was the Crown Prince.

But Xue Shu swallowed his retort, knowing that saying it aloud would provoke another sharp reprimand.

Not that his quiet defiance went unnoticed. Yin Chengyu’s brows knitted in displeasure. “Oh? You think once wasn’t enough?”

The words struck something deeper, and for a brief moment, Xue Shu’s mind flashed to his dreams—a hazy, feverish blur of heated exchanges. His composure faltered ever so slightly, a flicker of something unsure crossing his face. In the end, he lowered his head in submission. “Your Highness, I was wrong.”

Only when Xue Shu resumed his obedient stance did Yin Chengyu let his irritation fade. Satisfied, he shifted the topic back to the business at hand. “What’s going on here?”

Xue Shu relayed the details of their mission, explaining how they were handling scholars implicated in Sun Miao’s case.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze sharpened at the mention of imprisoned students. With the upcoming examinations, he couldn’t help but consider the potential fallout. “The autumn examinations are approaching, and these scholars have already endured days of confinement and mistreatment. Once the Ministry of Justice concludes this case, instruct Cheng Baichuan to release them promptly. They mustn’t miss their preparation.”

Xue Shu nodded, committing the order to memory.

The prince was about to leave when his eyes caught on a face in the prisoner cart that struck him with vague familiarity. He froze for a split second, then leaned in for a closer look. But the moment passed—the scholar had turned away, denying him a clearer view.

Could it be… Xie Yunchuan?

Yin Chengyu’s mind raced with possibilities. If it was him, the implications were delicate. He chose his next words carefully, masking his suspicion. “How are these scholars academically? Any among them particularly gifted?”

The question was casual on the surface, but it carried layers of subtlety. He couldn’t risk Xue Shu catching on to his previous ties with Xie Yunchuan.

After all, in a past life, Xie Yunchuan had been nothing short of extraordinary—top of his class in the provincial, metropolitan, and imperial examinations, his threefold success immortalizing his name.

It’s about that time, isn't it? Xie Yunchuan should be gearing up for the autumn imperial exam now.

Xue Shu had done his homework earlier, digging into the backgrounds of the academy students. Naturally, their scholarly performance didn’t escape his investigation either.

He casually summarized the details of a few candidates, but when he got to Xie Yunchuan, he hesitated for just a beat before speaking the truth: “Of the eight, Xie Yunchuan’s knowledge is unmatched. Word has it he’s made quite a name for himself at the academy. He’s one of the top contenders to take the first spot this year.”

Hearing that name hit Yin Chengyu like a bolt of lightning. For a brief moment, he was caught off guard, bewildered. It really is him.

What he couldn’t figure out was how this man had gotten entangled in the Sun family case.

In his previous life, around this time, he had been confined to the imperial mausoleum. When he eventually met Xie Yunchuan, the man had already been serving as an official for several years. He knew little of Xie’s days as a scholar.

“Oh? I suppose I should take a look.” Yin Chengyu masked his intrigue behind a façade of mild curiosity as he stepped out of the carriage.

The prison cart was parked on the far side. He didn’t mind the walk, weaving through a sea of guards and petty officials until he stopped before it.

His gaze swept over the scholars crammed inside, finally landing on Xie Yunchuan. His expression grew complicated.

Xie Yunchuan was just past his coming-of-age. His features were refined, gentle, though now disheveled, with tattered robes and a reserved posture that made him seem harmless—indistinguishable from the others.

But Yin Chengyu knew better. This unassuming man carried a vendetta in his veins, simmering beneath a veneer of restraint. And in the end, he singlehandedly brought down Grand Chancellor Shao Tian.

Later, he became Yin Chengyu’s most trusted ally, a confidant whose insights proved invaluable. Beyond the roles of sovereign and minister, they were kindred spirits.

Yin Chengyu had assumed he wouldn’t encounter Xie until the palace exams the following year. Yet here they were, crossing paths in this strange, wretched circumstance.

A wave of nostalgia rippled through him, but he bit it back. This Xie Yunchuan had no idea who he was.

Yin Chengyu stood silently by the prison cart, studying him for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he turned and climbed back into his carriage.

Trailing behind, Xue Shu observed his every move, reading his expression carefully before daring to ask, “Your Highness knows Xie Yunchuan?”

At first, he had dismissed the name as coincidence. But judging by His Highness’s reaction, it was far from that.

The name “Xie Yunchuan” had haunted him, both in his dreams and reality. In another life, his jealousy over the man had sparked fierce arguments with Yin Chengyu. And now, here he was again, flesh and blood, like a specter refusing to fade.

A strange, tangled feeling began to twist in his chest.

It was like a knot in a ball of thread, with one or two loose ends tantalizingly visible but impossible to untangle.

He couldn’t make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.

“Mind your own damn business,” Yin Chengyu shot him a sharp look, irritation flickering in his gaze. He had no idea how Xue Shu had sniffed out the connection. Maybe it was sheer bad luck—these two always seemed destined to clash.

Even without their memories, Xue Shu’s sensitivity toward all things related to Xie Yunchuan hadn’t dulled.

In their past life, those two had butted heads more times than Yin Chengyu cared to count. Or rather, Xue Shu had relentlessly provoked Xie Yunchuan, and Xie had countered each blow with equal precision.

This time around, Yin Chengyu had no patience for their petty squabbles. His voice dropped, firm and unyielding: “Escort him back properly. Don’t stir up any trouble.”

With that, he gave the order to move the carriage forward.

Xue Shu lingered behind, watching the carriage disappear into the distance. Only when it was out of sight did he turn back, a cold, shadowed look sweeping over the prison cart. His voice was like ice: “Take them to the Ministry of Justice.”

*

Yin Chengyu had come out of the palace today because the Imperial Medical Institute had sent word— the blood-letting technique was showing some promising results.

Five days ago, Yin Ciguang had come to find him, saying he’d discovered an ancient blood-letting method in some old texts, which might be able to cure the pox. Around the same time, a letter from Wei Xihe had mentioned a doctor in Fujian who had reportedly used this method to cure a plague. Yin Chengyu had agreed to give it a try.

However, mindful of Yin Ciguang’s fragile health, he hadn’t let him go directly to the infected wards. Instead, he’d gone to the Imperial Medical Institute to instruct the doctors in the blood-letting technique, allowing them to treat the infected patients under his guidance.

But today, when Yin Chengyu arrived at the institute, he learned that Yin Ciguang had taken matters into his own hands.

Although Yin Ciguang wasn’t favored in court, he was still a princess of some standing, and with Zheng Duobao accompanying him, the Imperial Medical Institute took his words seriously. Insisting on it, Yin Ciguang had hand-picked twenty of the lighter cases from the infected and had them housed separately in a storage room at the institute, which had been cleared out for the purpose.

The doctors at the Imperial Medical Institute, who seemed to have gotten along well with Yin Ciguang, had initially tried to cover up the situation. But when Yin Chengyu pressed them, they had no choice but to reluctantly lead him to the storage room.

The storage room was tucked away in a remote corner, far from the main crowd, so there was no immediate risk of contamination.

But as they reached the door, the leading doctor stopped Yin Chengyu, refusing to let him enter.

Yin Chengyu, ever understanding, didn’t push, stepping back to wait in the open space for the doctor to go fetch Yin Ciguang.

It didn’t take long before the side door to the storage room opened, and Yin Ciguang appeared.

He had his face covered with a cloth, dressed in a plain blue robe, his dark hair loosely tied at the back of his head. He still looked somewhat fragile, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that had sharpened with time.

Others might think he was a woman dressed as a man for convenience, but in truth, he was a man all along.

The strong scent of mugwort clung to him, a clear sign that he had just been through a mugwort fumigation. He didn’t approach right away, standing a few paces away from Yin Chengyu, and gave a respectful bow. "I've been in close proximity with the patients for several days, Your Highness. I fear I might carry the disease, so I ask for Your Highness’s forgiveness."

Yin Chengyu shook his head, dismissing the attendants, and said, "There’s no one else here. You don’t need to be so formal."

He paused, letting the silence stretch before adding, "This outfit suits you better than the ones you wore before."

His words were subtle, but Yin Ciguang caught the meaning immediately.

To survive in this palace, he had been raised as a girl. His mother taught him the proper court etiquette, how to play the zither, chess, painting, and all the things a princess should know. But his mother also constantly reminded him, in the darkest hours, alone in his chambers, that he was a man—his real identity, something he couldn’t forget.

Still, after so many years of pretending, there were moments when even he would become momentarily confused.

Yin Chengyu, aside from his mother, was the first to truly acknowledge him for who he was.

Yin Ciguang lifted his gaze, his face mostly concealed by the cloth, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, smiled.

He straightened his neck, awkwardly lowering his hand from where it habitually rested at his stomach, trying to stand as upright as Yin Chengyu. But he still felt out of place, a hint of discomfort showing in his eyes. "After all these years... I’ve gotten used to it. Please, don't laugh at me, Your Highness."

Yin Chengyu opened his mouth to respond but then hesitated. He knew making promises too early often led to disappointment. So, he let the conversation shift, smoothly smoothing over the brief awkwardness.

"I heard the blood-letting technique has shown some results. How are the twenty patients doing now?"

At the mention of the patients, Yin Ciguang visibly relaxed. He lowered his gaze, as was his habit, and began recounting the past five days in detail for him.

———Author's Note:

There’s only one prince for the dog, and only one dog for the prince.

Dog: Who the hell is Xie Yunchuan? Does the prince know him? Does the prince like him? Does the prince like him more than he likes me?

Prince: ...