Chapter 94.

Yin Ciguang supported Consort Rong as they exited Qianqing Palace.

Until Emperor Longfeng fully recovered, Consort Rong was to remain confined to Yongxi Palace. Yin Ciguang, older and more frail now, had been urgently summoned to care for the emperor. To ensure his safety, four imperial guards accompanied him as he returned. Once he settled Consort Rong, he would move into a side hall of Qianqing Palace with his belongings to temporarily attend to the emperor.

Nothing lifts the spirit like resolving a nagging worry. Emperor Longfeng, having rid himself of a significant thorn in his side, felt a newfound lightness. Reclining against a cushion, his legs being massaged by two eunuchs, he sipped freshly brewed tea and sighed contentedly.

"It seems I worried for nothing. Ziyuan Zhenren truly sees through the heavens," he mused aloud.

Standing nearby, Xue Shu countered with calm skepticism, "Isn’t it all a bit too coincidental?"

Emperor Longfeng glanced at him, not angered by the comment but amused. With a chuckle, he shook his head. "Coincidental? Perhaps. But doesn’t that only prove Ziyuan Zhenren's divine abilities?" His tone carried a hint of indulgence, the air of a ruler pointing out a lesson to his subordinate. "You’re still young, new to palace life. Watch and learn."

Xue Shu understood the unspoken warning.

To outsiders, today’s events might seem like a carefully staged performance—Consort Rong and her son colluding with Ziyuan Zhenren to absolve themselves. Were it anyone else, the emperor himself would have been suspicious.

But when it came to Consort Rong and her son? It couldn’t be more natural.

Consort Rong was from a lowly background with no powerful family to support her. She was timid, unremarkable, and lacked his favor, barely making a ripple in the harem. Whenever she saw him, she acted like a mouse before a cat. And with Noble Consort Wen openly hostile to her, it was clear she had neither the means nor the connections to bribe someone like Ziyuan Zhenren.

Moreover, the emperor only had four sons left. Aside from the Crown Prince and his third son, the other two were still young. Yin Ciguang, suddenly revealed as the eldest prince, was bound to upset many simply by virtue of being the "firstborn." It was far more likely people wanted him dead than exonerated.

After the initial fury over being deceived subsided, Emperor Longfeng found himself intrigued by this unexpected son.

With his second son deceased and his third injured, coupled with his own failing health, the court was almost entirely under the Crown Prince's dominance. The emperor needed the prince but also sought to restrain him.

Yin Ciguang’s emergence was like a perfectly timed pillow offered to a sleepy head.

As these thoughts swirled, the emperor smiled faintly but said nothing.

*

Yin Ciguang returned to Yongxi Palace, reassured Consort Rong, gathered his belongings, and relocated to Qianqing Palace’s side hall.

With his identity now revealed to Emperor Longfeng, there was no need to disguise himself as a woman. He shed the palace gown, removed the hairpins, and dressed in a simple azure robe with a round collar. His long hair, once adorned, was now neatly tied into a crown.

His tall frame was elegant, his demeanor like a sturdy bamboo stalk.

Though his features retained their striking beauty, the air of femininity had vanished, replaced by a refined scholarly charm.

Assigned to care for the emperor, Yin Ciguang threw himself into the role with unwavering dedication. He personally prepared every medicinal brew and offered massages for the emperor’s sore back and aching joints.

This massage technique, taught by Xue Shu, was said to be a secret method passed down by an old immortal, capable of invigorating the body and spirit.

Originally intended to complement Ziyuan Zhenren’s narrative, the method turned out to work surprisingly well. While the emperor’s condition hadn’t fully improved, his energy grew stronger by the day. The court physicians confirmed his recovery was progressing and advised continued rest.

Seeing the results, Emperor Longfeng’s faith in Ziyuan Zhenren deepened, which, in turn, softened his attitude toward Yin Ciguang.

Though the emperor hadn’t officially acknowledged Yin Ciguang’s status, he made no effort to keep it secret. Within days, rumors of the "eldest princess turned eldest prince" spread through the palace and court.

Speculation grew that Emperor Longfeng would formally recognize Yin Ciguang during the upcoming banquet.

"Now we wait for His Majesty to publicly confirm the eldest prince's status. Then this whole affair will be behind us," Xue Shu reported to Yin Chengyu. Yet the change in the emperor’s attitude clearly displeased him. "It’s obvious His Majesty wants to use the eldest prince to counterbalance Your Highness."

Emperor Longfeng was inept, his methods predictable and irritating. While Xue Shu didn’t see Yin Ciguang as a real threat to the Crown Prince’s position, the thought of nurturing a potential turncoat was galling.

Yin Chengyu, however, was unfazed. "Eldest Brother has no interest in power. Besides, this is what he rightfully deserves."

When working to develop a cure for the plague, Yin Ciguang had been a tremendous help. Now, returning the favor was only natural—it had required little effort.

Though Yin Chengyu couldn’t claim to fully understand his eldest brother, their time together had proven Yin Ciguang’s character to be trustworthy.

As Crown Prince, he had spent years outmaneuvering opponents, but his ambitions lay far beyond petty palace intrigue. His goals were rooted in the welfare of the people and the stability of the nation.

If not for the constant scheming and threats of Yin Chengzhang and Yin Chengjing across lifetimes, he would have preferred to channel his focus and energy into managing state affairs.

When Xue Shu heard his response, the tight furrow of his brows eased, and a fiery glint flared in his gaze. That fire consumed emotions like joy, admiration, and reverence, distilling them into a searing purity that filled his chest. The heat coursed through him, carried by the beat of his heart, flooding every vein and fiber of his being.

Every drop of blood in his body seemed to scream silently with love.

Yes, this was his Highness—steadfast as ever.

If Yin Ciguang could count on him, Xue Shu certainly wouldn’t shrink from any threat ahead.

His Highness was like a lone pine on a cliff, a plum blossom in the snow—standing proudly in the storm, untouched and unyielding.

Yin Chengyu noticed the warmth in Xue Shu's gaze, a faint movement at his brow the only acknowledgment. He didn’t address it, instead asking, “Any word from Noble Consort Wen or Yin Chengjing?”

Xue Shu suppressed the roiling in his chest, lowered his gaze, and reported, “Noble Consort Wen flew into a rage when she heard the news. For days, servants have been carried out of Jingren Palace in droves. Her carefully laid plans were upended before they even began. She won’t let this slide. As for Consort De and Yin Chengjing, it’s been quiet—for now.” His voice took on an unmistakable edge of malice. “Though I’d wager Yin Chengjing’s still preoccupied with finding a cure.”

Since returning to the palace, Yin Chengjing had kept up appearances, quietly recuperating. But in reality, he’d summoned countless doctors in secret to treat his ailment.

Unfortunately for him, Princess Uju’s strength had been devastating. Though his manhood had been reattached, it was now useless—a ruined relic of what once was.

Yin Chengyu shot him a sidelong glance, catching the gleam of malice in Xue Shu’s eyes. Tapping his fingers lightly on the desk, he instructed, “Neither of them will stay quiet for long. Keep close watch.”

Xue Shu nodded and, seeing no further orders, said, “It’s late. Allow me to attend to Your Highness’s rest.”

Without waiting for a reply, he moved to prepare the bed, his actions practiced and precise. Xue Shu’s visits to the Eastern Palace had become less frequent due to his position, and when he did come, it was always under the cover of night. Over time, he discovered a distinct advantage—an excuse to stay overnight at Ciqing Palace.

Yin Chengyu watched his familiar routine, leaning lazily on his elbow as he observed. “Has the Directorate of Ceremonies failed to provide housing for you, Commissioner Xue? Must you haunt my quarters every night?”

Xue Shu paused, not turning around as he replied, “Nowhere else compares to being near Your Highness.” He added quickly, “I’ve always left early, ensuring no one notices.”

“Commissioner Xue,” Yin Chengyu drawled, pausing for effect, “you make it sound… illicit.” His voice turned silky and cool, the words “illicit affair” laced with deliberate emphasis. The faint, teasing edge in his tone wrapped itself around Xue Shu like an invisible tether.

By now, Xue Shu had finished preparing the bed, even warming it with a hot water bottle. He turned to face Yin Chengyu, his dark eyes fixed on the tantalizing curve of those lips, slick with moisture and utterly tempting.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Would Your Highness allow it?”

Though Xue Shu had always found excuses to stay, he’d only ever been permitted the narrow confines of the luohan couch. If this truly were an affair, it would feel far less frustrating.

His gaze darkened, and unbidden memories of their past life surfaced. Back then, Yin Chengyu had only just returned to the Eastern Palace and relied on him heavily, always docile and accommodating. Xue Shu had used the flimsiest of pretexts to linger in the palace, sharing meals and even nights with him.

Those days left countless traces in this very bedroom.

At the time, his Highness had been so innocent and untested—terrified of making noise that might alert outsiders to someone in his chambers. His lush, trembling lips had pressed tightly shut, muffling any sound, though his body told an entirely different story.

Yes, that was the true definition of a forbidden tryst.

The memory ignited a restless heat within Xue Shu. His tongue swept over the roof of his mouth as he struggled to rein in the primal hunger flashing in his eyes—a hunger Yin Chengyu couldn’t fail to notice.

Rising from his seat, Yin Chengyu’s silken robes swept gracefully across the carpet, the hem whispering over bare skin now and then. “Fine. Stay if you wish, Commissioner Xue,” he said as he passed, halting briefly to lean in close. His lips curved into a crimson smile, nearly brushing Xue Shu’s cheek. “It’s not as though I’ll miss one measly luohan couch.”

With that, he climbed onto the bed and closed his eyes, leaving Xue Shu to extinguish the lights and retire to his cramped luohan couch.

Despite his height, Xue Shu folded himself onto the daybed, his long legs awkwardly bent. He rested his head on one arm, his eyes fixed on the bed just steps away.

Recently, Yin Chengyu had grown more indulgent toward him, feeding a desire that now felt insatiable.

Separated by a mere screen, so close yet so far, the emptiness in Xue Shu’s chest grew louder, refusing to be ignored.

Sleep eluded him that night, his mind tormenting him with visions of holding that soft, heated body against his own.

Eventually, as the hours stretched on, desire won. Silently, he rose and approached the bed.

Yin Chengyu lay defenseless in slumber, utterly unaware of the danger standing over him. Xue Shu’s gaze roamed over him, emotions flickering in his eyes before resolve hardened within him. Slowly, cautiously, he peeled back the covers and slipped beneath them.

———Author’s Note: The loyal watchdog: I’m just here for the blankets. Nothing else. Honest.

———TN: I had a hell of a nightmare—a real, gut-wrenching one. Not the kind with creepy ghosts or dark shadows lurking around. No, this was worse. It was the kind where someone you loved deeply, someone you poured your heart into, just turned their back on you and walked away, fed up, disappointed, like you weren’t enough for them.