Chapter Twenty-Three: Testing the Waters

Yu Hualiang sprang up early, like a coiled spring. Last night, he dreamt that Qianqian kissed him; he licked his lips—why were they so sore? Holding up a bronze mirror, he discovered he'd bitten his lip. Was it because he missed A-Liu's stewed hen so much?

Mo Cai, yawning widely, replaced the charcoal for him. Seeing Yu Hualiang at the mirror, he asked with concern, “What’s wrong, young master?”

Yu Hualiang touched his lips. “Craving meat, I suppose.”

Suddenly remembering Mo Cai’s burn yesterday, he asked, “How’s your hand?”

Mo Cai lifted his hand and smiled. “It’s nothing, young master. Just a blister—stick it with a needle and it’ll heal in no time. For someone with a life as worthless as mine, it’ll be fine soon!”

“Don’t say such things. You must be careful—life is precious, cherish it well, understand?”

“Well said! Yu the painter should truly cherish his own life!”

Before the person appeared, his voice arrived. Yu Hualiang’s good mood for the day vanished.

Ye Fang stood in the doorway, arms folded.

“Is there something you need, Guard Ye?” Yu Hualiang asked.

“Yu the painter, His Highness Prince Lin requests your presence,” Ye Fang announced with a sour expression.

“Oh, understood.” Yu Hualiang replied gravely.

What was with this Seventh Prince, calling him so early? And Ye Fang, looking as if he expected to see a spectacle.

Yu Hualiang felt uneasy, uncertain of the reason. He hurriedly dressed and was led to Lin Court.

What was Lin Court? It was the rear garden of the Seventh Prince’s residence. Yu Hualiang had never been here before—it was exquisitely arranged. Pine, bamboo, and plum trees grew in abundance. Amidst the towering pines was a pavilion, surrounded by silence, with the birdsong in the woods especially melodious.

The Seventh Prince sat in the pavilion, his hand warming a pot of fine tea. Even from a dozen paces away, Yu Hualiang could smell its fragrance.

The Seventh Prince smiled as he approached. “Ziliang, you’ve come. Sit.”

Yu Hualiang sat down without ceremony, gazing at the tea. “Your Highness, what tea is this? It smells wonderful.”

“Ziliang doesn’t know?” The prince’s gaze was odd as he asked, then answered himself, “This tea is called ‘What Then’.”

“What Then? A lovely name.” Yu Hualiang grinned foolishly.

The prince’s face clouded, then he continued, “This tea was tribute from Fanhe to my imperial brother.”

“Fanhe?” Yu Hualiang asked curiously.

“It’s a good place... Their livelihood is nomadic, and they cultivate tea—most famously poisonous tea, as well as deadly poisons and gu insects.” The prince spoke so vividly, it was as if the pot before them contained the legendary poison tea.

Yu Hualiang laughed. “Isn’t that just like Miao Territory!”

“Oh? Ziliang has been to Miao Territory? What kind of place is it?” The prince asked, his tone half mocking.

“Oh, never been—just heard stories. The Miao people raise gu insects. There’s one called ‘Love Gu,’ said to be placed upon two lovers. If one betrays the other, the gu will devour their heart. Quite miraculous.”

“Such a wonderful gu...” the prince murmured.

Yu Hualiang turned to look around. The lush pines, covered in snow, the interplay of deep green and white was particularly pleasing to the eye.

Yet in the prince’s eyes, Yu Hualiang’s figure grew more blurred, as if shrouded in mist, impossible to see clearly.

He sighed and asked again, “Ziliang?”

Yu Hualiang turned back to him. “What is it, Zicheng... er, I mean, Your Highness.”

The prince was startled. “Just call me Zicheng.”

For some reason, today the prince seemed deeply sorrowful, as if troubled by something. Yu Hualiang guessed he must have difficulties weighing on his mind.

“Ziliang, have you ever entered the palace?”

---

“No!” Yu Hualiang answered without hesitation.

“Then, Ziliang, how did you come to know Qianqian?” The prince finally voiced his question.

Yu Hualiang stood up in shock, staring in disbelief. “How do you know about Qianqian? Do you know where she is?”

The prince frowned at his anxious face, his heart aching. “She is the princess of my country, Yongcheng.”

“What!” Yu Hualiang stared at him, unable to comprehend whether Qianqian had transmigrated into a princess, or the princess merely shared her face.

“Ziliang didn’t know?” The prince poured tea as he asked.

Yu Hualiang sat down and confessed, “I once loved a girl... her name was Qianqian.”

The prince’s hand paused as he poured. “And where is she now?”

Yu Hualiang smiled through tears. “I suppose... we’re separated by life and death.”

He smiled through tears, but none could guess how much it hurt. The prince pressed further, “Have you ever met the princess?”

“Who’s met any princess... it’s not even remotely connected.” Yu Hualiang sighed, though the image of that red-clad girl he’d seen on the bridge flashed in his mind.

Seeing him reach for the tea, the prince stopped him. “Ziliang, this tea tastes better cooled.”

Yu Hualiang withdrew his hand, and the prince asked again, “Ziliang, have I treated you well?”

“Very well,” Yu Hualiang replied.

“I regard you as a brother, yet Ziliang hides things from me?”

Yu Hualiang was puzzled. What had he hidden?

The prince prompted, “Your injury yesterday was not so simple.”

He smiled, realizing the truth could no longer be concealed. “If you mean that, well, it’s a long story—but I’ll keep it brief.”

The prince nodded.

“The day I came to take up my post, I encountered a young man injured on the road, so I took him to the medical hall. Yesterday, I went to check on his recovery, and...” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the wound. “He grabbed my arm while applying medicine, scratched me. You may not believe it—he’s either not an assassin or perhaps a ninja. Your Highness won’t arrest him, will you? He’s still just a boy...”

The prince listened, but couldn’t relax, his face growing ever more grim.

Yu Hualiang, thirsty, reached for the tea, but the prince snatched the cup and poured it onto the ground. “The tea’s cold—not worth drinking.”

“Uh... uh.” Yu Hualiang was bewildered—wasn’t it he who’d said it should cool?

After a while, the prince seemed to reach a momentous decision. “Ziliang, you should go back now.”

For the first time, the prince dismissed him, and Yu Hualiang was only too glad to leave.

After Yu Hualiang left, the prince stared at the warm tea on the table. In a fit of anger, he lifted the scalding teapot barehanded and smashed it to the ground.

His hands trembled afterwards; Ye Fang, lurking in the shadows, rushed out to check the prince’s hand.

What had once been a pair of slender, jade-like hands were now red and swollen, blistered, painful even to look at.

Ye Fang intended to administer medicine, but at a single word from the prince, he vanished without a trace.

“Leave!”

The prince had never said such a word to him before; it was the first time Ye Fang had seen him so furious.

He stood in the cold wind for half an hour before his body moved again. Only then did he notice his hand was in agony. Upon inspection, the skin had already peeled off, exposing raw flesh.

Suddenly recalling Yu Hualiang’s advice about snow healing burns, he thrust his hand into a snowdrift, but the pain only intensified, with no relief.

Not at all like Yu Hualiang’s gentle touch...

A-Liu was brought to the prince’s residence, and upon seeing Yu Hualiang, gave him a huge hug, squeezing the breath from him.

“Hualiang, A-Liu missed you so much!” A-Liu clung affectionately to him.

---

Yu Hualiang gently pushed him away, perfunctorily replying, “I missed you too, A-Liu.”

“Hualiang is wonderful—can A-Liu sleep with you tonight?” A-Liu’s eyes sparkled. Yu Hualiang couldn’t bear to refuse.

But he knew the prince had been coming to see him every night lately. “Let’s see tonight,” he said.

A-Liu pouted, clinging to him relentlessly. Yu Hualiang had no choice but to hold him in his arms; fortunately, A-Liu’s slight build made it easy.

“By the way, Hualiang,” A-Liu looked up at him.

“Hm?” Yu Hualiang responded.

“While you were away, a young gentleman claiming to be your friend delivered a letter for you.” A-Liu produced the letter.

Yu Hualiang was surprised—what friend could he have here? He took the letter and saw three words: “To Brother Yu.”

Only Ji Yuzhe would address him that way. He opened the letter; aside from a few hard-to-read characters, he grasped the gist.

Ji Yuzhe said he missed him, but his illness kept him from leaving home, so he couldn’t see Yu Hualiang off, and felt guilty. Thus, he wrote this letter, inviting Yu Hualiang to visit his home.

All he had to do was show the letter to the guards at the gate, and he’d be allowed in. The address was... the General’s Residence.

Yu Hualiang nearly spat blood—this kid was the general’s son!

The general’s son had a heart condition, so he became a painter? What kind of logic was that!

A-Liu in his arms asked, “Hualiang, what’s wrong? What does the letter say?”

Yu Hualiang handed it over, but A-Liu pushed it away. “Tell me, Hualiang... I can’t read.”

So that was it. If A-Liu could read, he’d have peeked already!

Yu Hualiang said, “It’s nothing—a friend invited me to his home.”

“What friend?” A-Liu was suspicious.

Yu Hualiang sighed—A-Liu was just like a jealous girlfriend!

“Um... Ji Yuzhe from the Qionglin Painting Society,” Yu Hualiang said.

A-Liu shook his head. “I know Ji Yuyun.”

“Right, Ji Yuyun is his brother,” Yu Hualiang added.

A-Liu realized. “Oh, that Ji Yuzhe. I heard he’s hopeless at martial arts, became a painter, and has no reputation.”

Yu Hualiang sighed, “As long as he lives healthily, that’s a blessing. He doesn’t care for fame or fortune, I think.”

“What about Hualiang?” A-Liu asked.

Yu Hualiang pondered for a moment, sipped his tea, and said, “This is good enough...”

A-Liu smiled, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “A-Liu agrees. As long as I can stay by Hualiang’s side, nothing else matters.”

“Mm...” Yu Hualiang smiled blissfully. Holding A-Liu like this, he felt safe and content.

But he knew this feeling was neither love nor brotherhood, and gradually, he sank into confusion.

Perhaps such an atmosphere should not be disturbed, but Mo Cai, watching their affectionate display, wore a face as dark as charcoal, expressionless as he moved in and out.

Even if he felt aggrieved, he said nothing, determined to continue exuding the scent of singledom!