Captured by the Emperor After a Successful Faked Death - Chapter 7

With the nightmares gone, Xie Chengyun’s spirits naturally improved a great deal.

Thinking of the words Master Wuyuan spoke before he passed away, Xie Chengyun felt it was time to expedite the plot and fake his death to return home. If he waited until the little Emperor grew up, the consequences would be endless.

Xie Chengyun leaned against the Xingxin Pavilion. It was the time of the harsh spring chill, accompanied by the drizzling rain of the yellow plum season. The rain dampened his ink-black hair, and the mist was cold. The little Emperor picked up a hairpin and gathered up his Father-in-court’s black locks. Stroking Xie Chengyun’s shoulder, he leaned down and whispered, “Father-in-court, the rain is getting heavier; let us return inside to rest.”

Xie Chengyun closed his eyes to listen to the rain and ignored him.

In Zhu Yunyin’s hand were the strands of hair that had broken off while he was styling it. Seeing that his Father-in-court had his eyes closed, he quietly hid them in his personal sachet.

Tying our hair together to become husband and wife, loving each other without suspicion. The Marriage Tree acts as our matchmaker, bestowing upon us a bond that will never be severed.

Xie Chengyun opened his eyes, raised his chin, and said to Zhu Yunyin, “Go, fetch me some wine.”

Zhu Yunyin went off to find wine, and Xie Chengyun was finally able to collapse in the pavilion with zero dignity. How exactly is this idiotic plot supposed to unfold? According to the story, the plague in Jingshan City was coming next. Heaven and Earth are heartless; they treat all things as straw dogs.

Plague, famine, refugees.

Most importantly, the book had explicitly hinted that this plague was man-made. Originally, it was just a small, manageable issue, but then Heaven withheld the rain. It was a disaster caused by both man and nature. Corpses lay everywhere, and coupled with the high temperatures, the area became a ready-made petri dish for bacteria. Without rain, the rice crops withered, the people had nothing to eat, and with the addition of the plague, it was a total death spiral.

Xie Chengyun pulled at his hair. The top priority now was to catch the person spreading the virus. As long as there was no plague, they could open the granaries to release grain and eventually make it through.

Just then, there was a rustling sound in front of him. Xie Chengyun thought the little Emperor had returned and called out, “Yunyin?”

But no one answered. The Xingxin Pavilion was a secluded spot. The sky had already darkened, and the fire-red setting sun shone upon the earth like fresh blood.

Xie Chengyun could not help but think of the scenes from his dreams—the shrill, desperate cries of eunuchs and maids. People were running about like headless flies, their voices muffled and unclear in the dream. Everything was on fire; roof beams were falling, people were being crushed to death, brains splattered everywhere. Then came another creaking sound, and a crossbeam smashed directly toward his head.

At that critical moment, someone grabbed Xie Chengyun’s hand and ran outward with him. Xie Chengyun stumbled along, hearing the person saying something urgent, but Xie Chengyun couldn’t hear clearly. He was coughing incessantly, his body too frail to walk. The fire grew larger, so the person simply hoisted him onto their back and ran with all their might.

Xie Chengyun heard himself say, “Put me down; at this rate, neither of us will make it out. If you put me down, at least you might live.”

The person’s neck was covered in sweat, and their shoulders were broad; Xie Chengyun felt a sense of security clinging to them. The smoke was too thick, and the person didn’t speak, only shook their head.

Another flaming wooden beam fell. The person took him off their back, shielded him in their embrace, and leaped forward with great force, rolling across the ground several times until they finally escaped the burning building. The fire had burned the person almost beyond recognition, but Xie Chengyun remained unscathed.

The person opened their eyes—it looked like a young man, his face covered in soot. Xie Chengyun tried to help him up to run, but they both collapsed. More people arrived ahead of them. Xie Chengyun hadn’t even had time to be happy before the newcomers grabbed him and ran. Xie Chengyun wanted to bring the young man along, but the newcomers said he was already dead.

How could he be dead? His eyes were still open, and he was still looking at him. Having just escaped the fire, how could he be dead?

Xie Chengyun bolted awake from the nightmare, his face full of terror, stepping backward. He kept comforting himself: Fake. It’s all fake. Everything is fake!

A rustling sound came from the bushes ahead. Xie Chengyun leaned against a pillar and stared fixedly.

To his surprise, out popped a small weasel. Its fur was lustrous, and it had draped a leaf over its head like a child wearing a hat. It stood on its hind legs and looked at Xie Chengyun.

“Look at me, do I look like a human?”

What??

Xie Chengyun felt like he was still dreaming. This wasn’t some immortal-cultivation world—how could a weasel talk? Seeing Xie Chengyun silent, the weasel took two steps forward on its hind legs in a human-like fashion and asked again: “Look at me, do I look like a human?”

“Like… you look like one!”

Weasel-sama, if you can talk, then whatever you say is true! Forget looking like a human; if you say you’re an Earth Immortal and want me to kowtow twice, I’ll do it.

The weasel let out a “squeak,” which sounded exactly like a child’s laughter. Having received the satisfactory answer, it bowed to Xie Chengyun and jumped back into the bushes, disappearing.

Damn it, what is happening today? Xie Chengyun felt drained. Home. I have to go home immediately; this temple is bad luck for me.

And that little brat, I told him to go find wine; how did he manage to get lost himself? Xie Chengyun thought, growing angrier the further he walked. Just as he pulled open the door, he saw the little Emperor standing in the doorway with a smile.

The boy’s frame blocked the view inside. Whether from rain or sweat, the little Emperor was soaked through, yet his face was full of smiles. His eyes were sparkling, his hair was plastered to his face, and he was even panting for breath.

Xie Chengyun reached out and touched his face; it was ice-cold. His anger vanished immediately, replaced by heartbreak. “Forget about the wine; it’s not as if I absolutely had to have it. Why did you make yourself look like this? Hurry and take off your wet clothes; I’ll have someone boil water. Wash up properly so you don’t catch a cold.”

Zhu Yunyin ignored him, merely pulling Xie Chengyun’s hand and smiling as he retreated backward.

The boy’s hand was also cold, and his long, slender fingers were inexplicably covered in small cuts. His clothes were also filthy. Xie Chengyun frowned, feeling like scolding him again.

As the little Emperor retreated, he moved aside, revealing a large bouquet of peach blossoms on the table. The fragrance was intoxicating; the pale pink flowers were covered in dew, looking luscious and delicate.

Xie Chengyun exclaimed in surprise, “Where did you find these flowers?” He stepped forward, caressing the vase as he admired them.

Zhu Yunyin watched the Father-in-court’s happy expression and wrapped his arms around Xie Chengyun’s waist from behind. He buried his head in Xie Chengyun’s neck, sniffing the faint herbal scent on him, his cheeks flushing a faint red—putting on the perfect show of shyness.

But what he was actually thinking, no one knew.

“Peaches falling, their blossoms bright. Yunyin thinks that peach blossoms are the best match for the Father-in-court.”

Xie Chengyun held the flowers, completely defenseless against the large hands wandering across his waist, instead feeling so happy he didn’t know what to say. Sensing the chilling cold coming from the person pressed against his back, he hurriedly shooed Zhu Yunyin into his own room to bathe and change clothes.

While drying his wet hair, he scolded, “For things like this, just send a servant to buy them. Why run out yourself and suffer like this? If you’d caught a cold, it wouldn’t have been worth it.”

Zhu Yunyin nestled obediently in his Father-in-court’s arms and whispered, “They weren’t bought.”

“Ah?”

“They weren’t bought. I went to the back mountain and plucked them myself. I was in too much of a hurry and tripped, and I forgot to bring scissors. Father-in-court, look at my hands; they hurt so much.”

Zhu Yunyin held out his hands, and Xie Chengyun looked down to see they were indeed scraped up. The little Emperor had never known hardship, and his skin was delicate. The dense scattering of small cuts on his hands looked truly alarming.

Xie Chengyun took his hands, his brow furrowing.

In truth, very few of the cuts on Zhu Yunyin’s hands were from plucking flowers. He wanted Xie Chengyun to dote on him and pity him. On the way back holding the flowers, he had seen withered trees and brambles and scratched himself with those branches—after all, peach trees didn’t grow thorns.

But Xie Chengyun didn’t know that. He had an eight-hundred-layer filter of affection for Zhu Yunyin; seeing this, his heart ached until he almost died. He had been especially fond of this male lead since reading The First Emperor Through the Ages, and now that he had transmigrated, he doted on Zhu Yunyin as if he were his own son. He protected this little Emperor like a mother hen shielding her chicks.

Xie Chengyun took his hands, dampened a cloth with water, and wiped them carefully. As he wiped, he kept checking the little Emperor’s expression and whispered, “Tell me if it hurts.”

Zhu Yunyin nodded, watching with satisfaction as his Father-in-court applied medicine to his hand. He felt that getting a few small scratches in exchange for this intimacy with his Father-in-court was a very good deal.

In truth, Xie Chengyun wasn’t the only one having dreams lately.

Zhu Yunyin was too. He dreamt that he had become the Emperor of all ages, and nations came to pay homage. He excitedly went to find his Father-in-court to tell him he had succeeded and hadn’t failed his expectations. But he searched high and low, inside the palace and out, and could not find a trace of his Father-in-court.

He grabbed people to ask where his Father-in-court was, but no one dared to answer; they were all trembling. He searched the entire palace, even sending men to the Prime Minister’s residence, but his Father-in-court was nowhere to be found. He heard Eunuch Li whispering to someone to fetch Master Huang; but he didn’t want Master Huang—Master Huang wasn’t his Father-in-court. He wanted his Father-in-court, the one who shielded him from the wind and rain and raised him to maturity!

Then he would wake up from the dream. In this dream, everything was there, except for his Father-in-court. Zhu Yunyin was terrified every day, but he dared not tell anyone. The dream was too real; he was so afraid, so afraid it would become reality.

“Yunyin, Yunyin!” Xie Chengyun called to him.

Zhu Yunyin hurriedly said, “I’m here, Father-in-court. What is it?”

Xie Chengyun finished applying the medicine and said softly, “You cannot let your hands get wet; have a servant help you bathe. Be quick—it’s time for us to return to the capital.”

“Why so rushed? Leaving tomorrow would be the same.”

“No, it must be today. If we are late, it will be too late. I need to go see Han Cizhi to discuss some things. I also need to find Li Xunjia.”

Seeing Xie Chengyun’s urgency, Zhu Yunyin didn’t dare dawdle or act spoiled; he immediately got up and headed back to his room.

Xie Chengyun hurriedly had the carriage prepared and carefully packed his belongings. The little Emperor bathed quickly; just as Xie Chengyun had everything ready, Zhu Yunyin emerged.

The moment he came out, he saw Xie Chengyun standing by the carriage holding the peach blossoms and the vase, waiting for him. He stood tall and straight, the pink peach branches blooming brilliantly beside his Father-in-court’s face.

In the distance, the mountains overlapped, and birds soared with wings outstretched.

Xie Chengyun loved white; people called him the “Prime Minister in White,” like snow on the mountains or the moon among the clouds. Now that the snow and moon had gained color, it made all things in the world lose their vibrancy.

If one asked how much spring there was, all of spring was in the eyes of his Father-in-court.