After the Corrupt Official Was Coveted by the New Emperor - Chapter 15

“I am serious, Ji Rong. If you truly want to leave, this is an absolute once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Ji Rong glanced at the sky, thought for a moment, and then said, “The rain has not started yet. I will use this time to go outside and see if I can find any herbs to reduce inflammation. We cannot just let Qi Zhaoxuan keep burning up like this.”

“Ji Rong!” Fan Qing interrupted him. “Are you even listening to me!”

“I am,” Ji Rong sighed helplessly. “Let me think about it some more, okay?”

The words stuck in Fan Qing’s throat. After a long pause, he gave a stiff “Mhm.”

Ji Rong looked back at Qi Zhaoxuan one last time, then turned and left. Thunder rumbled a few times, and the clouds were dark and heavy. A heavy downpour seemed imminent. Being in a valley, a torrential rain could trigger dangerous landslides.

Ji Rong did not dare to delay. He searched the areas where anti-inflammatory and hemostatic herbs typically grew, and soon gathered a dozen or so stalks. Raindrops began to fall, gradually picking up pace. After cutting the last herb, Ji Rong hurried back along the path toward the cave.

As soon as he entered, he saw Qi Zhaoxuan with his hand clamped around Fan Qing’s throat. Qi Zhaoxuan’s strength was considerable; he had lifted the man right off the ground.

“Qi Zhaoxuan!”

Shocked by the scene, Ji Rong did not stop to think. He ran straight to them. The sound of Fan Qing’s violent coughing filled his ears. Looking at Qi Zhaoxuan’s blood-red eyes, Ji Rong knew this was not the time to worry about Fan Qing, but rather to quickly soothe the clearly delirious Emperor.

“Qi Zhaoxuan?”

Ji Rong patted Qi Zhaoxuan’s cheek, trying to wake the semiconscious man. But Qi Zhaoxuan was burning with fever. The wound on his forearm had burst open again from the exertion, and dark red blood flowed out, staining Ji Rong’s clothes.

That brief moment of madness seemed to have exhausted all of Qi Zhaoxuan’s remaining strength. His fingers trembled uncontrollably as they caught Ji Rong’s sleeve. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes slid shut, and he collapsed back into unconsciousness.

Qi Zhaoxuan passing out was actually a relief for the current situation. Ji Rong finally had the chance to check on Fan Qing. The Emperor’s grip had been powerful. In that short amount of time, purple bruises had already begun to form on Fan Qing’s neck. He was still coughing, bringing up flecks of blood.

“Are you okay?” Ji Rong walked over to him, frowning.

Fan Qing could not speak; he could only wave his hand to indicate he would live. Ji Rong did a quick assessment. Fortunately, Fan Qing was resilient. Aside from the terrifying handprints on his neck, he was mostly fine.

Ji Rong sat cross-legged beside him and asked, “What just happened?”

At the mention of it, Fan Qing looked aggrieved. He used his raspy, broken voice to complain: “I just walked over there normally, and then His Majesty, he suddenly opened his eyes and grabbed my throat. You know the rest.”

When he said the word “Majesty,” Fan Qing’s voice dropped significantly.

“Oh, and His Majesty asked where you were,” Fan Qing added.

Ji Rong looked suspicious. “That is it?”

Fan Qing shrugged. “That is it.”

“Imperial Preceptor.”

The unconscious Qi Zhaoxuan suddenly let out a sound. Both men looked over. Fan Qing jumped, then pointed at Qi Zhaoxuan as if to explain: “See? Just like that.”

Ji Rong could not fathom why Qi Zhaoxuan was acting this way, and for now, he was too tired to care. He stood up, brushed the dust off his clothes, and took the freshly gathered herbs to wash them. Luckily, there was a small puddle in the cave where the water looked clear enough. Ji Rong washed the dirt off the herbs.

Once Fan Qing recovered, he crouched down beside him, whispering incessantly: “Look at his temperament. Moody, violent tendencies, you really should run.”

Ji Rong turned a deaf ear and continued cleaning the herbs.

“Hey, did you hear me, Ji Rong? Why are you so obsessed with staying by his side? Do you actually like him?”

Ji Rong finally looked up. He stared at Fan Qing and said earnestly, “Then why are you so obsessed with convincing me to leave?”

“Besides, I do not like Qi Zhaoxuan.”

Fan Qing: “…”

Ji Rong found a clean stone and pounded the herbs into a paste, which he then applied to Qi Zhaoxuan’s wound. Fan Qing followed him every step of the way, watching closely. Once the medicinal paste was applied, Ji Rong finally breathed a sigh of relief. The rain outside was now thundering against the ground, and the wind whipped the rain into the cave mouth. Ji Rong shivered.

They needed a fire. All three of them had come out of the river and were soaked to the bone. With the wind blowing, they would surely fall ill, especially with Qi Zhaoxuan already feverish and injured.

Ji Rong tilted his chin up and ordered, “You know how to start a fire, right? Go on.”

Fan Qing slumped against a rock like a dead weight. “No strength.”

Ji Rong threw a small pebble at him. Only then did Fan Qing listlessly move to start the fire. Soon, the flames flickered to life, and warmth spread through the cave. Since Qi Zhaoxuan was still out, Ji Rong moved him closer to the fire and took off the Emperor’s outer robe to dry it on a wooden stick.

Even though summer was hot and dry, the river water on their clothes would not dry on its own. They had to endure the heat near the flames. Ji Rong propped his head up with one hand while idly spinning his veiled hat on a stick with the other. Everything was settled, and since it was raining too hard to leave, he stared blankly into the fire.

He did not know why, at the moment Qi Zhaoxuan fell into the valley, he had not hesitated for a single second before jumping after him. In that moment, he had not had time to think; his body’s instinct had made the decision for him. Could it really be as Fan Qing said? Did he truly like Qi Zhaoxuan?

His thumb and forefinger rubbed together unconsciously as he gazed into the flames. As the damp parts of his clothes and hat began to dry, Ji Rong was so lost in thought that he did not notice what Fan Qing was doing. It was not until a familiar flash of black entered his peripheral vision that Ji Rong realized something was wrong. He looked up at Fan Qing.

Fan Qing was huddling by the fire, wincing as he took something off a drying rack. Eventually, it became too hot to hold, and he dropped it on the ground. A familiar black cover, a familiar thickness, and the four familiar large characters on the spine: “Pure Black Notebook.”

Ji Rong: “…”

He could not understand why such a thing would appear at the bottom of a valley. Ji Rong stared at Fan Qing with a stony face.

Fan Qing noticed the murderous gaze. “Mhm.”

He tried his best to defend himself. “The storybook fell in the river and got wet. I was just drying it.”

He did not mention a single word about why the book had fallen into the river with them in the first place. Ji Rong continued to stare at him expressionlessly. Unable to maintain his defense, Fan Qing wiped his face and fell into a silent stupor.

Earlier, Fan Qing’s entire focus had been on the “Pure Black Notebook,” flipping through the pages to make sure every sheet dried properly. He had completely forgotten that the very subject of the book was sitting right next to him.

Ji Rong reached out. “Give it here.”

Fan Qing pulled the book into his chest warily, afraid Ji Rong would snatch it.

“…”

Ji Rong took a deep breath and repeated, “Give it here.”

“I will give it to you if you promise not to destroy it or throw it away,” Fan Qing bargained sensitively.

“Why would I throw it away?” Ji Rong asked pleasantly.

“Who knows if you will get embarrassed and angry?” Fan Qing grumbled. “Didn’t you hear the shop clerk say this is the last edition for a long time? I haven’t even finished it yet.”

By the end, Fan Qing’s voice had faded to a whisper. Ji Rong eventually got the book. Having been soaked and then dried, the pages were now swollen and warped. Ji Rong had never actually read the “Pure Black Notebook,” though he heard about it often. Since there was nothing to do, he flipped it open.

Fan Qing watched him, terrified. Ji Rong went from being expressionless to having his eye twitch slightly, before finally snapping the book shut with a loud thwack. He truly felt the urge to toss it into the fire.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Fan Qing saw the intent in Ji Rong’s eyes and quickly snatched the book back, shielding it in his arms.

Ji Rong stood up to grab it. The cave was not that big, and after a few steps, he had Fan Qing cornered.

“Imperial Preceptor.”

Ji Rong had just grabbed the book when he heard Qi Zhaoxuan’s weak voice from the left. His movements froze, and he turned around with a frown. Qi Zhaoxuan was sitting up, rubbing his temples as he looked in their direction. The sickly flush on his face had faded, replaced by his usual pale complexion. His dark eyes, deep and emotionless, met Ji Rong’s. Like a predator locking onto its prey, his expression suddenly became forceful.

Still shaken from the previous incident, Fan Qing stayed far away, only peeking his head out from behind a rock. Ji Rong opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Qi Zhaoxuan stood up and walked toward him. There was a shadowy gloom in the Emperor’s eyes, and Ji Rong instinctively took a step or two back.

But those few steps back seemed to trigger something in Qi Zhaoxuan. He moved forward quickly, his tall frame looming over Ji Rong. The next moment, Ji Rong was pulled tightly into a firm embrace.

“Imperial Preceptor.”

The voice was intimate and lingering, yet tinged with an undetectable trace of grievance. The heat of his breath hit Ji Rong’s neck, sending a tingle to his brain that made half his body go numb.

“Imperial Preceptor, I thought you had left again.”

Ji Rong could not tell if it was his imagination, but he felt like Qi Zhaoxuan was accusing him. What do you mean “again”? When have I ever abandoned him before? Ji Rong could not figure it out.

Qi Zhaoxuan held him very tightly, as if he wanted to meld Ji Rong into his own body. He leaned down slightly, resting his head on Ji Rong’s shoulder. From a short distance away, Ji Rong met Fan Qing’s dumbfounded expression.

The Emperor’s fever had broken, but he was still not quite lucid. He refused to let go of Ji Rong, insisting on sitting right next to him by the fire. Fan Qing stayed as far away as possible, taking the “Pure Black Notebook” with him to keep it safe from Ji Rong’s dark hands.

“How are you feeling?”

Ji Rong frowned, nervously pulling Qi Zhaoxuan’s injured arm toward him to inspect the wound. Qi Zhaoxuan did not say a word; his dark pupils simply watched Ji Rong’s every move. His face was devoid of expression, as if he could not feel the pain in his arm at all.

The detox pill seemed to be working well. The wound was no longer oozing black blood and had begun to scab over, though it still looked gruesome. Ji Rong exhaled, his heart half at ease. He placed the back of his hand on Qi Zhaoxuan’s forehead. No longer feeling that scorching heat, his heart finally settled completely.

When Ji Rong looked up, he happened to meet Qi Zhaoxuan’s waiting gaze.

“Why did you jump after me?”

Likely due to the high fever, Qi Zhaoxuan’s voice was very low and raspy. He stared at Ji Rong without blinking. Ji Rong was stunned. After a moment, he brushed a strand of hair behind his ear and lowered his head uncomfortably. Qi Zhaoxuan, however, pinched his chin, refusing to give Ji Rong a single chance to avoid the question.

He used his birth name, asking again, “Ji Rong, why did you jump after me? If I fell from the cliff to my death, shouldn’t you be happy to have regained your freedom?”

“Why did you save me?”

The rain outside the cave had not stopped, and the wind continued to howl, its force still felt inside. The fire flickered from time to time, and the constant crackling of breaking branches filled the air. Inside the cave, the time of day was invisible, and sleepiness, whether intentional or not, began to cloud the mind.

Ji Rong turned his head away and said softly, “I am tired.”

Qi Zhaoxuan did not press him further, allowing Ji Rong a moment to breathe. He closed his eyes, clumsily pretending to sleep. Darkness often invites rest, and Ji Rong soon found himself drifting off. In his half-conscious state, he felt himself being enveloped in a warm embrace and gently leaning against a shoulder that smelled of a familiar incense.

Beside him, Qi Zhaoxuan, serving as a pillow, did not sleep. His deep pupils watched the peaceful face on his shoulder. Those lips were red and moist, looking very kissable. Qi Zhaoxuan licked his dry lips, his throat moving slightly. The flames hissed and burned, casting shadows over his eyelids that silently masked his expression, hiding it within the night.