Chapter 461 A Nine-Tailed Fox?

Chapter 461: Nine-Tailed Fox?

Cheng Ge nodded and went back to his porridge, head down.

Once he'd finished two bowls of porridge, Zhou Yinyun brought over the medicine. Cheng Ge took it and knocked it back in one go, the bitterness making him wince.

After the medicine, his eyelids started getting heavy.

Lin Nanshu stepped up, eased him back onto the pillow, and tucked the blanket around him.

Cheng Ge's eyes were half-lidded as he took in the people by the bed—every last one of them haggard, dark circles under their eyes, like they hadn't slept in days.

"You guys should go get some rest too..." His voice grew softer and softer. "No need to keep hovering over me... I just wanna sleep for a bit... I'm beat."

The group traded glances and started to turn away.

Cheng Ge suddenly shot out a hand and grabbed Lin Nanshu's sleeve.

Lin Nanshu stopped mid-step and looked back.

"Muyu?" He bent down, keeping his voice low. "You feeling alright?"

Cheng Ge was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open—his lids felt like they weighed a ton—but he still fought to stay awake.

"Yun Xunyu?" His voice was thick with sleep. "Where is he... Why can't I see him..."

Lin Nanshu's hand went stiff.

Cheng Ge didn't notice and kept mumbling: "Did he get hurt..."

He remembered how he'd gone berserk that day, and wondered how Yun Xunyu was holding up.

The air in the hall suddenly went still.

The smoke from the incense burner seemed to thicken, pressing down on everyone's chest.

Cheng Ge got no answer. He forced his eyes open, his blurry gaze drifting over the group.

Everyone looked away, and the hall went dead silent.

Lin Nanshu's mouth pressed into a thin line. He dropped his gaze to the hand still gripping his sleeve.

"...Yuli?"

Lin Nanshu kept his eyes down, his voice low, each word deliberate.

"Something's come up in Nanling... Prince Yun told me to let you know—he headed back first."

Cheng Ge froze for a second. He stared at Lin Nanshu's face, and his grip on the sleeve slowly went slack.

"...Oh."

His voice was barely a sigh, and his eyelids finally gave out, slowly drifting shut.

Cheng Ge's vital energy had taken a serious hit, and it wasn't until the sixth day that he finally started to bounce back.

He couldn't stand staying in the palace, so Zhou Mingqi let him move back to Prince Cui's manor.

The rain that had dragged on for days finally let up, revealing a pale blue sky, the air still heavy with leftover dampness.

Word was that Chen Zhengqi was now locked up in the imperial prison, and the rebellion had dragged in all sorts of factions—the capital was on edge, everyone walking on eggshells. No doubt a good number of big fish were about to get reeled in.

But none of that was Cheng Ge's problem anymore. His only job now was to heal up.

Right now, Cheng Ge was sitting in the garden, bored out of his skull, staring off into space.

The peach tree in the courtyard was in full bloom—soft pinks and whites, petals scattering every time the wind blew.

Lü Rou had snipped a few branches and arranged them in a vase on the stone table—a nice little touch.

Dahuang was sprawled at his feet, listless, too lazy to even wag his tail.

Cheng Ge propped his chin on one hand, holding a peach blossom branch in the other, lazily swishing it across the stone table.

The branch was a soft pink, the petals thin and almost see-through in the sunlight.

He stared at it for a long time—the color wasn't as striking as the red of plum blossoms.

Thinking of plum blossoms, he suddenly remembered how Yun Xunyu loved wearing bright red robes—flashy every damn day, strutting around like a peacock wherever he went.

At that thought, he couldn't help sighing.

Lü Rou finished arranging the vase, stepped back to admire her work, then turned to ask, "Young master, does this look okay?"

Cheng Ge gave it a lazy glance and nodded. "Looks good."

He rested his foot on the big yellow dog's belly. Dahuang let out a soft whimper but didn't budge.

Cheng Ge switched which hand was under his chin. "Any word from Yun Xunyu?"

Lü Rou shook her head. "Nothing yet."

Cheng Ge's brow knitted slightly.

Normally, Yun Xunyu was all over him—he'd whisper sweet nothings in Cheng Ge's ear every chance he got.

Now Cheng Ge had sent several letters by carrier pigeon, and not a single one had gotten a reply.

Was the Nanling business really that demanding? Cheng Ge stared at the peach branch in his hand, zoning out for a moment.

"Maybe the letters got held up somewhere," Lü Rou said softly. "Don't overthink it, young master."

Cheng Ge grunted in acknowledgment and didn't say anything else.

Peach blossoms drifted onto the stone table, landing by his hand. He picked one up and rolled it between his fingers.

The petal was soft—it fell apart at the slightest touch.

A falcon's cry came from overhead—lazy, like it was saying hi.

Cheng Ge didn't bother looking up.

Up in the peach tree, Grey Cloud was perched on the highest branch, using its beak to preen its singed feathers.

Its feathers had been burned off in patches—bald spots here, scraggly tufts there—ugly in a way that was almost charming.

Seeing that Cheng Ge was ignoring it, it called out again, louder this time.

Cheng Ge still didn't look up.

He propped his chin on his other hand, his eyes settling on the peach blossoms in the vase.

Grey Cloud tilted his head, flapped his wings, and flew down from the tree, landing on the edge of the stone table, staring at Cheng Ge with those round, bright eyes.

Cheng Ge finally looked up at him.

"What are you looking at?" he said. "You went and burned your own feathers like that, and you still show your face around here."

Grey Cloud let out a sharp, piercing squawk, like he was protesting.

Cheng Ge couldn't be bothered. He grabbed a piece of meat off the table and tossed it over.

Grey Cloud tipped his head back, caught it dead-on, swallowed it in two quick gulps, then kept staring at him, his eyes screaming, "Another one."

Cheng Ge didn't move. He even had the urge to boil some water and pluck the damn thing.

That night, he'd sent the little jerk to deliver a message, but the second he heard thunder, he went and hid.

Not only did he hide, he got his tail singed by the oil fire too. If he hadn't flapped off fast enough, he'd have ended up on the dinner table.

Cheng Ge reached out and flicked him on the head.

"Dumb bird."

Grey Cloud squawked indignantly, flapped his wings, and flew back up to the tree, glaring down at him from the branches.

Cheng Ge yawned and pillowed his head on his arm.

The sunlight was like water, soaking a lazy warmth into his very bones.

Peach petals drifted through the air, landing on the stone table, in his hair, and on the feathers Grey Cloud had just tidied.

He could hear Lü Rou trimming the peach branches, and even the wind seemed to slow down.

Dahuang's belly rose and fell gently with each breath, and Cheng Ge's foot was still resting on it, rubbing back and forth through the soft fur.

His eyelids got heavier and heavier, his mind started to blur, and the light and shadows before him all melted together.

In a haze, someone was standing in front of him.

The figure wore a bright red robe, vivid as winter plum blossoms, like a burning flame.

That face, eyes full of affection, was striking and bold—it was Yun Xunyu.

He leaned down, close to Cheng Ge's ear, his voice laced with a smile.

"Sweetheart, have you missed me?"

Cheng Ge didn't open his eyes, just mumbled, "No."

"Liar." Yun Xunyu laughed, reaching out to pinch his earlobe. "Sweetheart, your ears are turning red."

Cheng Ge tilted his head, trying to dodge the hand, but didn't get away.

"Why aren't you staying in Nanling? What are you doing showing up at my place?"

"Because I missed you, sweetheart." Yun Xunyu's voice dropped, tinged with a hint of grievance. "Since you won't miss me, someone's gotta do the missing, and it might as well be me."

Cheng Ge felt his ears heat up at that. "So much sweet talk—you must've been a fox spirit in your last life."

Cheng Ge grumbled, but he didn't open his eyes, and he didn't pull away from the hand pinching his earlobe either.

Yun Xunyu laughed, a low sound that rolled out of his chest, making Cheng Ge's ears tingle.

He leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting over Cheng Ge's cheek.

"You just reminded me of something," he said lazily, a smile in his voice.

"I've heard that in ancient times, there was a nine-tailed fox demon, a master at bewitching hearts and driving people out of their minds."

Cheng Ge didn't say anything.

Yun Xunyu continued, "If I could be that fox demon..."

He paused, his lips nearly touching Cheng Ge's ear.

"I'd seduce you every day, cling to you and never let go, until you couldn't stand a single moment without me."

Cheng Ge's ears were burning red now. He finally opened his eyes and swatted at Yun Xunyu's face.

The swat had no force behind it—more of a caress than a slap.

"A nine-tailed fox has nine lives, you know. Dream on."

Yun Xunyu caught his hand before he could pull it away, brought it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to his fingertips.

Cheng Ge's fingers curled a little.

Yun Xunyu looked at him, his eyes full of laughter and something else—something bright, something scorching, like it could burn a person alive.

"Nine lives is a bit greedy, I'll admit," he said softly. "One's enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Enough to pester you for the rest of your life."

Cheng Ge's heart stuttered. He looked at Yun Xunyu, and Yun Xunyu looked back at him.

They were so close, close enough to see the curve of each other's lashes, close enough that their breath mingled.

Sunlight poured down from above, catching Yun Xunyu's bold face and softening his features into something almost gentle.

Cheng Ge suddenly felt a little dazed. He didn't say anything, and Yun Xunyu slowly lowered his head.

Closer. Closer still.

Cheng Ge's lashes trembled. He didn't pull away, even tilting his chin up a little.

Just as their lips were about to touch—Cheng Ge's eyes snapped open.

Yun Xunyu still had that face, that smile, that bright red robe on.

But blood was seeping from all seven of his orifices—black blood, thick and scalding.

The blood dripped, drop by drop, onto Cheng Ge's face, hot enough to burn, terrifying—and yet Yun Xunyu was still smiling.

Cheng Ge snapped his eyes open.

The sunlight forced him to squint, his chest heaving violently, his heart slamming so hard it felt like it might jump out of his throat.

Cold sweat broke out on his back, and the wind against it sent a chill through him. He was gasping for air, like he'd just been dragged out of the water.

Something landed on his shoulder, and Cheng Ge's head snapped around.

Cui Ji stood behind him, holding a cloak, about to drape it over him.

The gesture froze mid-air, startled by Cheng Ge's reaction.

"...You're awake?" Cui Ji asked.

Cheng Ge stared at him blankly, taking a beat to collect himself.

He took a deep breath, letting out the stifling weight pressing on his chest.

"...Mm."

Cui Ji didn't say anything, just gently settled the cloak over his shoulders and drew it closed. The gesture was gentle, as if afraid of startling something.

"Bad dream?"

Cheng Ge kept his head down, staring at the peach petals on the stone table, at his own clenched hands.

His hands were still trembling slightly.

"...I'm fine."

Cui Ji sat down beside him and didn't press further. They sat there in silence, neither of them speaking.

The peach blossoms continued to fall, the sunlight still warm. Grey Cloud crouched on the peach tree, watching him with those round, unblinking eyes fixed on him.

Lü Rou had slipped away at some point, leaving just the two of them in the garden.

Cheng Ge reached up and touched his cheek—it was cold.

He couldn't tell if it was the dream's blood that had been too hot, or the wind outside the dream that was too cold.

A nameless unease settled in Cheng Ge's chest, something stuck, refusing to move, neither rising nor falling.

The peach blossoms kept falling, the sunlight stayed warm, but he couldn't sit still anymore.

"I'm going to take a walk." He stood up.

Cui Ji stood up with him, silent, just picking up the cloak, shaking it out, and draping it over his shoulders.

Cheng Ge looked down at the hands moving in front of him, tying the cloak's fastenings.

"Spring's warming up, but there's still a chill in the wind." Cui Ji finished tying it and stepped back. "Don't catch a cold."

"...Mm. I'll come back for dinner." Cheng Ge pulled the cloak tighter around himself and smiled at Cui Ji.

He turned and walked off, Cui Ji's voice trailing after him: "Take the carriage. Your leg's not fully healed yet."

Cheng Ge paused mid-step and looked back at him. Cui Ji had already told a servant to get the carriage ready.

He didn't argue.

The carriage rolled out through the side gate, wheels rumbling over the blue stone pavement.

Cheng Ge leaned back against the carriage wall, lifting a corner of the curtain to watch the street scenes pass by.

Where was he going?

He didn't know.

He just wanted to walk around.

The carriage ambled slowly through street after street.

A candied hawthorn seller passed by the carriage; he glanced over. The smell of a wonton stall drifted in; he didn't stop.

Before he knew it, the carriage pulled to a stop on West Street.

He spoke up suddenly: "Stop."

The driver pulled the horses to a stop and looked back at him.

Cheng Ge lifted the curtain, grabbed the carriage frame, and climbed down. The wound on his leg pulled, and he sucked in a soft breath, steadying himself.

"Sir, your leg..." The driver trailed off.

"It's not far. Just want to walk." Cheng Ge waved a hand. "Just wait here for me."

The driver started to say something else, but one look from Cheng Ge shut him up, and he could only nod.

Cheng Ge stood at the roadside, taking in his surroundings.

It was a busy street, people coming and going, vendors' cries rising and falling in waves.

He didn't know where he was going, he just wanted to walk, to let the stifling weight in his chest loosen.

He wandered for a bit, strolling slowly down the street.

There was a teahouse up ahead. He stood at the roadside and looked at it for a moment, then went in and headed upstairs.

There was still an empty seat by the window on the second floor. He sat down, and the waiter brought tea. He held the cup in his hands, gazing out the window.

The street below was packed with people, vendors' cries rising and falling.

As he watched, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him.

He froze for a moment, then remembered.

Months ago, when he was returning from the imperial prison, he had passed through this very street.

That day, the crowd had been so thick it was nearly impassable—

It was this very teahouse.

This very seat.

Yun Xunyu had thrown his fan down at him from here.

The fan had struck his chest, and that man had leaned against the window, smiling with wild abandon, his bright red robes dazzling to the eye.

The corner of Cheng Ge's mouth curved upward. The world truly was full of coincidences.

He lowered his head and took a sip of tea, instinctively feeling for his wrist.

But the moment he touched it—nothing.

Cheng Ge's heart lurched.

He looked down and saw his wrist was bare—completely empty.

The red string Yun Xunyu had given him was gone.

He froze for a second, then set down his teacup and fumbled frantically through his sleeves and chest. Nothing! It wasn't anywhere!

When did it fall off?

Where did it drop?