The Real Young Master is Entangled by the Paranoid Fake Young Master - Chapter 42

A week can pass in the blink of an eye or crawl by like a century. For Xie Chengxuan, Fu Lansheng, and the Song family searching outside, as well as for Zhaoqing and Song Yuening on the island, it was an agonizingly long period.

It was another day with no ships able to reach the island. Although Song Yuening remained blind, his speech had regained its original composure, now flavored with a touch of lighthearted wit. He was far from the stiff, deliberate “noble son” persona he maintained at the Song house; he frequently exchanged jokes with Xiao Heng and Zhaoqing.

It was as if his previous breakdown had been nothing more than a fever dream.

With no entertainment on the island, the two injured boys spent most of their time indoors. Fortunately, Xiao Heng’s family possessed a collection of ancient texts, scriptures, and humanities books. Since Yuening couldn’t see, Zhaoqing often sat by the bed and read to him, the two of them whiling away the uncertain hours together.

Today, Zhaoqing held a collection of annotated ancient texts. Reading from the first page, he eventually reached a solemn precept:

“A transient connection in this life; a hundred years hence, each follows their own path through the Six Realms, no longer bound to one another.”

Zhaoqing paused after reading. He found the words profoundly logical. He had died once; had he been reincarnated as a new life, would he not be “following his own path, no longer bound”? Yet, he hadn’t. He had simply become Song Zhaoqing again. He didn’t understand why he was the exception, like a phantom excluded from the cycle of reincarnation.

“That is, the Precepts of the Ten Commandments,” said Song Yuening, the white gauze still covering his eyes.

Zhaoqing looked further down the page. Sure enough, it was signed by Faxin, a monk from Sanjie Temple. He couldn’t help but marvel, “It really is. I’ve got to hand it to you, you’re quite impressive!” This little deviant actually has some real learning in him, Zhaoqing thought.

Yuening remained silent.

Zhaoqing noticed the book discussed the Dunhuang manuscripts and included several interesting anecdotes. He cleared his throat and prepared to continue:

“This poem was originally written as a precept with Zen undertones, but on the back of the scroll, a love poem was inscribed. The author’s identity is unknown, but the verses are so passionate that they serve as a witness to a forbidden love from a thousand years ago.”

Zhaoqing’s voice was clear as spring water as he read each word carefully:

“The sun and moon gaze at each other from afar, circling endlessly, never leaving the heart…”

Zhaoqing abruptly snapped the book shut, refusing to read further.

“What’s wrong? Why did you stop?” Yuening asked, sounding curious.

“Alright, I get it, you love to learn,” Zhaoqing said, his voice sounding awkward and tense. “Go to sleep. You won’t get better if you don’t rest. Goodnight!”

With that, Zhaoqing pulled up the covers, tucked Yuening’s mischievous hands back under the blanket, and hurried out of the room.

The evening reading session ended in an abrupt halt. Leaning against the door in the dark, Zhaoqing’s face burned hot. He hadn’t expected the stern precepts to be followed by such a brazenly passionate poem.

Especially that last line. Fortunately, he hadn’t read it aloud. Otherwise, it would have felt like a person from a thousand years ago was using his voice to confess. Zhaoqing closed his eyes and walked away from Yuening’s room in silence.

Inside the room, Yuening lowered his head and smiled. Zhaoqing didn’t need to read the last line aloud. Yuening knew the entire text by heart. He understood exactly how the person who wrote that poem felt.

Because now, he was that person.

“Zhao-zhao, this is how I feel when I see you.” “Seeing you where you sit and walk, it is as if a fire burns within my soul.”

The Shelter

On their sixth day on the island, Zhaoqing fashioned a crutch for Yuening. His intention was for Yuening to practice walking outside without help. Instead, it turned into Yuening happily hobbling along with the crutch in one hand while his other hand gripped Zhaoqing’s arm in a death-grip, refusing to let go.

Zhaoqing sighed. “Do you think there’s any point in using that crutch if you’re still leaning on me?”

Yuening replied shamelessly, “Of course there is.” “What?” “It serves to show off. I’m showing off the gift you gave me.”

Zhaoqing was speechless. He wondered if Yuening’s brain had been damaged along with his eyes. Since their fight, the man was no longer cold and terrifying; instead, he was becoming increasingly thick-skinned.

Yet, their time on the island passed peacefully amidst this bickering. It felt like a paradise where all love and hatred were frozen in time. Outside, the world was in chaos, but here, everything was tranquil.

Xiao Heng looked at the weather and optimistically predicted that ships would be able to pass within four or five days. However, the very next night, Yuening’s old ailment flared up again. Zhaoqing and Xiao Heng were terrified; it took until after midnight for his high fever to finally break.

Once Yuening stabilized, Xiao Heng was so exhausted he nearly collapsed. Zhaoqing was about to check on him when he heard Yuening calling his name. He settled Xiao Heng and went back into Yuening’s room.

“Zhao-zhao… Zhao-zhao… am I going to die?”

Because Yuening struggled to speak, Zhaoqing leaned down close to his ear to listen. He felt the man’s hot breath against his skin and tried to pull back, but the “dying” Yuening reached out an arm to stop him. Though Yuening was weak and Zhaoqing could have easily broken free, he didn’t.

“Don’t talk nonsense, you’ll be fine soon,” Zhaoqing answered hesitantly, not knowing if it were true.

“But I’m so cold,” Yuening’s voice trembled.

“I… I’ll get you another blanket!” Zhaoqing turned to go, but the weak hands held him fast.

“No, blankets won’t help. The medicine, the medicine.” Yuening muttered incoherently before finally saying, “Come into the bed and hold me, Zhao-zhao. If I’m truly dying, I’ll be satisfied if this one wish is granted. Just be kind and have some pity on me.”

Seeing him so delirious and convinced of his own death, Zhaoqing decided to humor him. “I won’t get under the covers, but I’ll sit on the bed with you for a while, okay?”

But Yuening was as stubborn as a pampered long-haired cat, using his illness to act spoiled. He made it clear that if Zhaoqing didn’t agree, he might as well die the next second.

Zhaoqing felt both amused and exasperated. “You shouldn’t be called Song Yuening; you should be called Song Three-Years-Old.” He pressed a finger to Yuening’s forehead and then resignedly climbed under the covers. He did it only because Yuening had protected him in the sea. If not for that, Zhaoqing might be the blind one right now.

The moment he got in, Yuening clung to him like a koala. Zhaoqing shivered at the man’s high temperature, but Yuening just held on and said childishly, “Three-Years-Old is a fine name. It even has your surname!”

“It’s not my surname; it’s Song Shicheng’s surname,” Zhaoqing corrected.

“I’m not taking his name; I’m taking yours. I don’t care about him,” Yuening muttered unreasonably.

He really is delirious from the fever, Zhaoqing thought, placing his cool hand on Yuening’s forehead. Yuening sighed in content.

“Stop talking and just rest,” Zhaoqing whispered.

“Then you mustn’t leave,” Yuening insisted, fighting sleep. “Sleep with me, or I won’t sleep at all!”

“You little deviant, who are you threatening?” Zhaoqing grumbled, but he stayed.

The Ominous Dream

Half an hour later, Xiao Heng’s voice rang out urgently from outside. Zhaoqing heard him through the door: “Grandfather, you’re finally back! Look at him, he looks like he’s dying!”

The grandfather’s reply drifted into Zhaoqing’s ears: “Did you miss an ingredient in the medicine?”

“That can’t be.” Xiao Heng checked the dregs and the prescription, realizing with horror that he had forgotten the Atractylodes. A minor oversight, but in these ancient formulas, a tiny error could ruin the entire effect.

The grandfather didn’t scold him. “Go brew it again. I will perform acupuncture.”

While unconscious, Song Yuening dreamed of a distorted, parallel world. He saw Zhaoqing, the dead Zhaoqing lying in a crystal coffin. The boy was dressed neatly, his face made up so he looked like a sleeping angel rather than a corpse. But he was hauntingly thin, a mere skeleton of himself, and there was a fine suture line along the side of his face.

Yuening recognized the crystal coffin. It was made from the legendary “Ghost King’s Face” quartz, found hundreds of meters underground. A single pound was worth a fortune, let alone a whole coffin. It was prized because it could preserve a body for three to five years, but it was also radioactive. Large doses of such radiation were lethal to the living.

The name “Ghost King’s Face” came from a saying: Willing to become a ghost for ten thousand generations, just to see the face of the one I love once more. In the dream, Yuening saw someone open the coffin and lift Zhaoqing out. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but the person felt incredibly familiar. Then, the scene shifted to a tropical island. The man walked into the azure sea with Zhaoqing’s body in his arms. Like lovers walking from youth into old age, they disappeared beneath the waves, never to be separated again.

The Revelation

Yuening woke with tears in his eyes, but his fever had vanished. Even the bone-deep pain of his ailment was miraculously gone, a miracle that had never happened without the Song family’s medicine.

He gripped his chest, the reality of the dream still shaking him. He reached for the pillow beside him, but it was empty. He sat up, fighting dizziness, and was about to find Zhaoqing when an elderly hand reached for his pulse.

“It seems you are out of danger,” Xiao Heng’s grandfather said.

“Where is Zhaoqing?” Yuening asked politely.

“Do not worry, child. He went to the mountain with Xiao Heng. You slept for a whole day.”

“Did you save me?” Yuening asked sincerely. “Thank you, sir.”

The grandfather stroked his beard. “Actually, my grandson owes you an apology. He missed an ingredient in your brew, which allowed the toxins in your body to flare up again. If I am not mistaken, your condition is caused by a specific drug you have taken for a long time. Your body has developed a resistance, and the side effects are worsening.”

Yuening’s heart skipped a beat, his hands gripping the sheets.

The grandfather chuckled. “Herbs are mysterious things. A single ingredient can be the difference between a cure and a poison. You fell from a cliff and survived, only to meet me here, perhaps it is fate. Believe me, child you are blessed. You will live a long life and overcome this danger.”

Yuening sensed a deeper meaning. His heart pounded at the thought that this island might hold the key to the “illness” that had plagued his life. But before he could speak, the grandfather continued:

“By the way… how are Mr. Song and Old Mrs. Song? I wonder if they have achieved what they desired after all these years.”

“To do something so heartless… do they really think there is no retribution in this world?”