Captured by the Emperor After a Successful Faked Death - Chapter 20

Gu Minsheng’s cooking skills were truly lackluster; it was edible, but certainly not delicious.

Xie Chengyun poked at the vegetables in his bowl with little interest, his face full of reluctance.

Gu Minsheng didn’t care at all. Once he finished his own meal, he left the table with his bowl. Before departing, he didn’t forget to say, “I cooked today, so it’s your turn to wash the dishes. No welching on the deal.”

Zhu Yunyin looked up: “Doesn’t the manor have servants? Why…”

Xie Chengyun sighed: “Don’t forget, this is the Zhou manor, not the capital. The Zhou family has been soldiers for generations; everything is done by oneself. Forget about you and me; even Bijie would receive the same treatment if he returned home.”

Seeing that Xie Chengyun hadn’t eaten much, Zhu Yunyin said: “I’ll go check the kitchen. Wait for me here.”

Xie Chengyun waved his hand: “Forget it, forget it. Minsheng’s cooking is just bad; it’s not like it’s inedible.”

A voice called out from the distance: “If you dislike the taste so much, why don’t you cook for yourself? Don’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

Xie Chengyun smiled, took a few perfunctory bites of rice, and then excitedly suggested taking Zhu Yunyin out to see the streets.

The long streets of Suizhou were vastly different from those of the capital. Here, everyone held faith, so they were even more generous to others. They were willing to spend their lives in diligent cultivation to seek the return of their souls to ultimate bliss.

“Take a look, take a look! Whoever hits the three rings in a row gets this silk-tapestry robe I’m holding.”

A peddler was hawking his wares by the roadside. Zhu Yunyin’s gaze was drawn to the robe in his hand.

The dark green robe shimmered with waves of light, intricately embroidered with complex patterns that glittered in the night. Zhu Yunyin couldn’t help but think: If the Prime Minister were to wear this, what would he look like?

“Do you like it?” Xie Chengyun asked.

“Yes.” Zhu Yunyin nodded and started toward the peddler to pick up the horn bow.

“Young master has a good eye! This is high-quality merchandise from the Heavenly Works Workshop. One tael of silver for five arrows. Hit three rings in a row, and it’s yours.”

A passerby nearby, also eager to try, frowned upon hearing this: “Why is it so expensive? One tael of silver for one turn? Why don’t you just rob someone?”

“An inch of silk tapestry is worth an inch of gold. One tael for five chances isn’t expensive at all.”

Sounds came from the distance—sounds that were chillingly familiar. Xie Chengyun looked up; it was indeed Zhu Zhao.

Zhu Yunyin instantly shielded Xie Chengyun, his expression darkening.

Zhu Zhao, however, patted Xie Chengyun’s shoulder like an old acquaintance, speaking casually: “Master Xie, long time no see.”

Xie Chengyun brushed the young Emperor aside and smiled: “Long time no see.”

Only Zhu Yunyin stood to the side, his face as dark as charcoal. Zhu Zhao pointed at Zhu Yunyin with his folding fan: “Is this your young master?” he asked, half-jokingly, half-provocatively. “Truly a talent.”

Xie Chengyun ignored the comment and retorted: “Master Zhu is here, but why don’t I see your wife?”

Zhu Zhao’s expression soured at the mention, and he gritted his teeth: “Thanks to you, my wife is still bedridden, recovering.”

Someone nearby missed with every arrow, and the crowd booed.

“Your bow is faulty! It’s light as a feather; how could anyone hit the target!”

Xie Chengyun watched Zhu Zhao in silence.

Zhu Zhao found it boring and stopped feigning civility. “Young Master Zhu, you don’t need to look at me with such eyes. I came to Suizhou with no hidden motives. Yu Lianlian is gravely ill and has lost her soul; I heard that snow lotuses bloom in the frontier deserts and eating them can retrieve the soul. That is the only reason I am here.”

Xie Chengyun lowered his head: “Then I wish the young lady… a full recovery.”

Zhu Zhao looked up abruptly, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

Zhu Yunyin stared back at her from afar, but Xie Chengyun remained indifferent.

He picked up the horn bow from the table: “You like this robe, don’t you? Pay him.”

Zhu Yunyin turned his head and fished the silver from his purse.

“Master, you have great spirit. Thre”

Before the peddler could finish, Xie Chengyun loosed an arrow.

The feathered arrow whistled past the peddler’s ear and landed on the ground.

Xie Chengyun looked bashful: “My apologies, the child in my house likes it, and I was a bit anxious.”

The peddler waved his hands and retreated: “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Someone nearby advised: “Master, this peddler is a scammer. This bow is light as air, and the feathers on the arrows are tattered. Even if Hou Yi came here, he wouldn’t hit anything.”

No sooner had the words been spoken than Xie Chengyun loosed another arrow. This time, the arrow flew straight toward the center of the target.

Bullseye!

The crowd was in an uproar. The peddler stared with wide eyes, shouting: “Impossible, how is this possible!”

Before he could finish, another arrow was loosed. With a snap, the bowstring broke in two. This arrow knocked the previous one down and stood upright in the very center.

“Good!”

Someone started it, and the crowd followed, applauding and cheering incessantly.

Zhu Yunyin stood in the crowd, watching them cheer for Xie Chengyun. He was the center of attention; he was spirited and confident. He did not belong to him.

Xie Chengyun smiled again, apologizing: “My apologies, I broke your bow; I will compensate you. May I borrow your spare longbow?”

The peddler, stunned by the gentle smile, blankly handed over another one.

Without a doubt, it hit the center of the target again.

The peddler had no choice but to hand over the silk-tapestry robe amidst the cheers, looking thoroughly unwilling.

Xie Chengyun didn’t gloat; he took the robe and led the little Emperor away.

Seeing Zhu Yunyin was still unhappy, Xie Chengyun handed him the robe from his arms: “Don’t you like it? Want to try it on?”

Zhu Yunyin still furrowed his brow: “The Prime Minister’s archery is amazing.”

Is that all this is about? Xie Chengyun draped his arm over Zhu Yunyin’s shoulder: “Do you want to learn? I’ll teach you.” He continued incessantly: “I don’t boast, but when it comes to archery, let alone Shangliang, no one among the forty-eight Mongolian tribes is my match.”

Zhu Yunyin looked up at Xie Chengyun, who was leading him forward with high spirits, his dark hair dancing in the wind.

“Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

It was midnight when they returned to the manor, but fortunately, Gu Minsheng had left the door for them.

Zhu Yunyin couldn’t sleep no matter how he tried, so he fished out the mirror the mad Taoist had given him.

He wiped it with his sleeve; at least it could reflect an image now.

The bronze mirror shimmered in the moonlight; the butterflies on the surface seemed ready to dance. Zhu Yunyin saw the Prime Minister in the reflection.

He held the mirror dotingly, watching Xie Chengyun smile at him.

Zhu Yunyin couldn’t help but press his face against the mirror, holding it tightly to his chest as if kissing it.

The candlelight flickered. The mirror on the head of the bed and the mirror in his arms refracted light at an eerie angle. When he looked again, Xie Chengyun was gone.

Yellow talismans were plastered everywhere on the walls. The monarch had set up an altar in the palace, offering incense daily. He commanded high monks and Taoists to lock the Prime Minister’s soul in the palace so they could remain together.

The palace servants viewed him as a madman; they feared him, they dreaded him.

The commoners said he did not care for the people and believed in ghosts and gods.

Cries of agony filled the palace; roaring flames consumed the halls.

Xie Chengyun was dead, and the Marquis of Dingyuan was dead as well.

The two passes of Naqu and Suizhou were broken, and the barbarian cavalry drove straight through.

Han Cizhi died of the plague; Su Yingxi, Kang Wen-dao, and others gave their lives for the country.

The people were full of grief and suffering. The Prime Minister wanted him to be the greatest Emperor through the ages, and so he became one. But he had overturned ancient texts, trampling the country underfoot. The Prime Minister would not be waiting for him by the Bridge of Helplessness. Suicide for the country, for the funeral, for the man—every mechanism was exhausted, all for the sake of a reunion.

Zhu Yunyin opened his arms and curled up on the bed, just as he had at thirteen, nestling in Xie Chengyun’s arms.

“A-Yun, look at how I’ve squandered the foundation of our ancestors. Why don’t you appear to scold me?”

“Or are you afraid? Afraid that if you appear, I will know you truly have been kept by me.”

The gauze curtains were rolled up by tongues of fire; dense smoke billowed, and talismans were burned to ash. Zhu Yunyin had spells painted on his body; his face was bewitchingly beautiful like a woman’s, and with his hair disheveled, he laughed like a child.

“Prime Minister, don’t hate me. Only in this way can I have a next life with you; only then can you and I be reunited.”

Zhu Yunyin touched the void: “Let me be a girl in the next life. I will dote on you, spoil you, bear your children, wash your clothes, and cook for you—I only ask that you don’t leave me, never abandon me again.”

Seeing no response, Zhu Yunyin knelt on the bed, lowered his head, and continued: “You being a girl is fine too, but A-Yun, I’ve heard that childbirth is very painful; I can’t bear for you to be in pain.”

His beautiful eyes were moistened with tears, his eyelashes fluttering like black butterflies. The youth explained in a wounded voice: “It’s not that there must be a girl, nor that there must be children. I just felt that if there were children, you would have attachments. You value loyalty and righteousness above all; if that were the case, would you stay with me forever?”

“You and I are shackled by so many worldly ties in this life ruler and subject, teacher and student, father and son yet the one thing we cannot be is lovers.”

Zhu Yunyin thought for a moment and laid back down. It doesn’t matter anymore; no one can separate us now.

A spark fell onto the bed, and a whirlwind swept it up. Zhu Yunyin smiled: “Prime Minister, A-Yun, have you come to take me?”

I made you wait three years. I’m sorry. Come take me home. Life without you is so bitter; they don’t want me, and no one loves me like you do.

With a thunderous crash, a sudden rainstorm fell from the sky.

A gale tore through the dry branches, shattering the windows, and the rain blew in, extinguishing the flames.

Do you not want me to die?

Even like this, you still want to protect me?

But what is the point of leaving me alone in this world?

A yellow weasel ran out of the bushes and out of the palace; the debt of gratitude to the monarch had been repaid, and this person would have nothing more to do with him from now on.

More thunder and lightning rolled; the intense fire scorched the beams until they were dry and brittle.

Zhu Yunyin crawled off the bed, drew the Huaijin sword, and plunged it into his abdomen. The blood flowed like a waterfall.

This time, no one could ever separate them again.

Their ashes would blend; in life and death, they would be inseparable.

Chengyun, I have come to find you.

“Hoo!”

Zhu Yunyin snapped awake from the dream, drenched in cold sweat, his face smeared with tears.

Is this real?

Was everything that just happened real?

Zhu Yunyin hurried off the bed, running barefoot to find Xie Chengyun.

He still remembered the question Yu Lianlian had asked him on the pleasure boat. She had asked: “Your Majesty, do you believe in gods?”

Zhu Yunyin had said: “I do not.”

He only believed that whatever he wanted, he would get for himself—if a god stood in his way, he would kill the god; if a Buddha stood in his way, he would kill the Buddha.

Back then, Zhu Yunyin had stood beneath the altar with a plate, flaunting his Xie Chengyun to the gods on high.

So what if you are a god? I have my Prime Minister—a Prime Minister who can protect me and lay down his life for me.

Zhu Yunyin rushed into Xie Chengyun’s room and startled him awake.

He looked at the little Emperor, whose face was full of tear stains and panic, and hurriedly pulled him into his arms, soothing him with gentle words.

Zhu Yunyin held Xie Chengyun, a large hand gently patting his back.

Someone above said: “Don’t be afraid; it’s okay now.”

Zhu Yunyin drifted off into a hazy sleep again. Xie Chengyun tucked him into the quilt, resting his head on his hand and patting his shoulder.

Prime Minister, they say it takes a thousand years of cultivation to share a boat, and a thousand years to share a pillow. You say, a thousand years from now, will you still be holding me like you are today, sharing a pillow and sleeping together?