Sickly Jade - Chapter 3

Xiao Yun’s silence said everything. Qi Chu’s voice rose abruptly, nearly blowing the roof off the palace. “Why? Why did no one tell me? Did all of you know?”

Qi Chu was not naturally a mild-mannered person; his usual docility and obedience were merely facades he had constructed because Ye Shaoyun preferred it. But why, despite performing so well, had he still been abandoned?

He had been abandoned by Ye Shaoyun.

This thought was like a needle piercing his heart, tearing through all his disguises. He felt as though he were going insane. Qi Chu violently shoved Xiao Yun aside and stormed out of the palace, his eyes turning dark and heavy.

When he first learned that Ye Shaoyun was resigning, he had assumed there was some hidden hardship; deep down, he had harbored a secret hope that the other man would explain it to him. But he had been wrong Ye Shaoyun hadn’t even considered him worthy of a second thought, not even offering a parting word. This was what enraged him most.

The attendants waiting outside the door were startled by the Crown Prince’s furious, storm-like entrance and his dark, gloomy exit, and they all stood paralyzed, not daring to make a sound. Ever since the Crown Prince began following the National Teacher, he rarely lost his temper; today’s anomaly was undoubtedly linked to the National Teacher’s resignation.

Everyone knew that the National Teacher, Ye Shaoyun, was the Crown Prince’s “reverse scale” (most sensitive spot), his greatest weakness. Ye Shaoyun knew it too, which was why he had to leave to go as far away as possible.

By the time the attendants regained their senses, Qi Chu had already ridden off alone toward the city gates. The sound of hooves thundered through the streets, landing heavily in the hearts of every attendant. They prayed that the Crown Prince would retrieve the National Teacher; otherwise, they could not imagine what the Crown Prince would become. An unbridled wild horse would trample everything beneath its hooves.

Ye Shaoyun was the reins, the shackle, and the only panacea that could heal Qi Chu. The people could not live without Ye Shaoyun, and Qi Chu could live without him even less.

Qi Chu clearly remembered the first time he saw Ye Shaoyun.

Back then, Ye Shaoyun was dressed in pristine red official robes, the black hair beneath his black gauze cap accentuating his porcelain-white skin. He was very beautiful, and very cold. Ye Shaoyun did not like to smile; his expression was chilly, and even when he did smile, it was faint.

The young Qi Chu had watched that cool, detached figure pass him by time and again from afar, until one day, the man finally stopped before him. Even though Qi Chu had observed this person countless times, he still instinctively retreated as he approached.

“Your Highness, do you wish to rise above others?”

Only that one sentence.

Ye Shaoyun’s gaze was sinister and cold, yet the corners of his lips curled into a vague smile. To the Qi Chu of that time, it felt hypocritical, yet he saw ambition in that face. It was that arrogant and cold expression that solidified his path forward, making him believe firmly that this person could lead him out of the darkness.

Qi Chu gripped the hand extended toward him tightly. Ye Shaoyun’s hand was as cold as his heart, like fine jade, with only the palm offering a sliver of warmth. He struggled to cling to that trace of warmth, testing each other time and again.

To toughen him, Ye Shaoyun placed a blade in his hand, forcing him to choose between killing the wet nurse who had betrayed him or killing himself. Qi Chu, of course, could not bear to kill him, but he feared him even more. Under Ye Shaoyun’s goading, he personally killed that vicious wet nurse, experiencing the feeling of taking a life for the first time.

Ye Shaoyun had been right: executing one’s enemy was truly exhilarating.

“In this deep palace that eats people without spitting out the bones, if you aren’t ruthless, you will be slaughtered. Instead of waiting for death, you might as well wield the blade and carve out a bloody path for yourself.”

Ye Shaoyun’s words from that day often echoed in his mind. By the end, the man’s voice and that sentence had merged into his blood and were carved into his bones.

Ye Shaoyun was his tutor, his benefactor, and his salvation. Although the man’s methods were chilling, it did not affect his reverence, admiration, and eventual desire to possess him completely.

The first and only time they had a disagreement was at the palace of Consort Chun, the mother of the First Prince. He had a favor to ask of Consort Chun, and he had hidden it from Ye Shaoyun—all for Ye Shaoyun’s sake. Consort Chun’s brother, Minister Chen, was impeaching Ye Shaoyun, and Qi Chu worried he would be convicted, so he sought out Consort Chun. It was the first time he wanted so badly to do something for this man.

When faced with the bowl of lotus seed soup brought by the First Prince, he had no choice but to drink it. Just then, Ye Shaoyun arrived, bringing the former National Teacher and the Emperor with him.

Ye Shaoyun’s expression that day was exceptionally gloomy. In the presence of the Emperor and the National Teacher, he snatched the soup from Qi Chu’s hand and drank it all in one gulp. A moment later, a large amount of black blood surged from his throat.

Qi Chu would never forget Ye Shaoyun’s expression that day: his face pale as snow, his eyes filled with reproach for him. At that moment, he thought he had lost this person forever. He was so terrified he trembled all over, tears streaming down his face as he begged his Imperial Father and the former National Teacher to save him.

The First Prince and Consort Chun were charged with the crime of conspiring to harm the Crown Prince because of this.

It was only afterward that Qi Chu learned it had all been Ye Shaoyun’s own scheme. He had forced the First Prince to strike, just to crush them completely, and Qi Chu had stumbled into becoming a pawn on the chessboard. A pawn that pierced Ye Shaoyun’s heart and nearly cost him his life.

Ye Shaoyun did not blame him, merely coughing up black, glistening blood in front of him for a whole month. The imperial physicians said he wouldn’t survive; what he coughed up was not blood, but his vitality, his very life.

From then on, Ye Shaoyun’s black hair turned white, and he only barely managed to keep his life. Qi Chu never dared to act on his own again.

Ye Shaoyun was a madman who would stop at nothing. That was what everyone in the court said. Many feared him and hated him. But in Qi Chu’s eyes, this person was the star in the sky, the moon in the clouds; he was his pride and his everything.

Having been by Ye Shaoyun’s side for so many years, Qi Chu had been influenced significantly. He was like a blade sharpened by Ye Shaoyun, able to pierce through anything yet in front of this man, he was merely a gentle pet.

But the gentle pet never expected that one day it would be abandoned by its master. Thus, the wolf cub disguised as a well-behaved dog instantly bared its fangs, even turning them against the one who had abandoned it. Love had turned into hate.

A few kilometers outside the city, the rain fell harder and harder.

Ye Shaoyun sat in the carriage, unconsciously clenching his palms. His pale fingertips almost pierced the soft flesh of his palms, and a dense layer of sweat formed on his forehead, as if dampened by the rain.

Muyun noticed his abnormality, reached out to take the cat from his arms, and retrieved medicine from a secret box in the baggage, handing it to his lips.

“Master, here is the medicine.”

Everyone around Ye Shaoyun knew about his ailment during rainy weather and had prepared medicine in advance. Seeing that his master did not accept it, Muyun dared not force the medicine into his mouth. Watching him endure the pain, he could only frown and urge him: “Master, please take the medicine.”

Ye Shaoyun seemed not to hear. After a while, he let out a heavy breath. “No need. This medicine is incredibly bitter; it is better to just endure it.”

The bad habits developed from being pampered over the years made him exceptionally sensitive to the bitterness of medicine. The conflict between the medicine and the internal organs ravaged by the “Heart-Severing Poison” caused him to taste something even more bitter than the medicine itself it was its own form of torture. Thus, Ye Shaoyun would rather endure the cramps than take the medicine. Previously, to hide it from Qi Chu and keep him from being distracted, he had no choice but to take the medicine to maintain appearances.

Now, there was no need.

Seeing he was fine, Muyun brought a blanket to cover him, wrapping him up tightly. Unfortunately, there was no hand warmer; they had come in such a hurry that they hadn’t had time to burn charcoal.

Qingyi spotted an inn in the distance and suggested, “Master, there is an inn ahead. Why don’t we stop for a rest? Muyun can also go and borrow some charcoal.”

Ye Shaoyun looked at the sky; it was already afternoon. He nodded. “Only a brief rest. Do not linger.”

After sitting in the carriage for so long, he was tired. He stretched his legs and lifted the curtain to look out. Having spent too long in the city, breathing the same air, it was rare to go out; even the lush green trees outside seemed fresh.

He was lost in thought, and he didn’t know how much time had passed, but Muyun still hadn’t returned. He glanced around and called out twice, but the surroundings remained silent. He felt a sense of dread.

Did they encounter mountain bandits?

Ye Shaoyun held his breath, channeling force into his palms. If even Qingyi and Muyun’s skills couldn’t handle the situation, the opponents might not be ordinary bandits. Before the poison, he had the skills of a seventh-grade expert; after the poison, his meridians were damaged and withered. The imperial physicians had told him not to use his force and to recuperate well; he had no idea how much internal energy he had left.

If it truly reached a point where he couldn’t cope, he would use his final bit of internal energy to end his own life. He would rather die than fall into the hands of those filthy bandits.

A moment later, a faint sound of footsteps arose outside. Ye Shaoyun held his breath and gently pulled the dagger from beneath his cushion.

He tentatively called out: “Qingyi? Muyun?”

No one answered.

Sensing the danger drawing near, just as the sound grew closer, he channeled his internal energy throughout his body and struck first, rushing out of the carriage to stab in the direction of the sound.

A hand caught his wrist with pinpoint accuracy. A black-clad figure with a masked face appeared before him. The strength was immense, and he could not break free.

The two landed steadily on the ground.

The aura on the person made Ye Shaoyun feel vaguely familiar, but he had no time to ponder who it was. A cold light flashed in his eyes, and he switched to his other hand to stab the dagger at the masked man.

The man dodged nimbly, his cold, deep eyes fixed on the blade. He pushed upward with both hands, easily disarming his weapon.

Immediately afterward, caught completely off guard, Ye Shaoyun was bent over and grabbed by his slender waist.

Ye Shaoyun instantly lost his balance and was hoisted onto the man’s shoulder.