The Young Marquis is Ruining the Court! - Chapter 18

Chi Zhou felt as if he had just watched a stage play, catching a fleeting glimpse through the gaps of time of how the original owner and Xie Jiu interacted.

He didn’t hear how the “Chi Zhou” in the dream replied to Xie Jiu, nor did he know what finally transpired on that chaotic and lonely Night of the Hungry Ghost.

When his consciousness drifted from the dream back to reality, Chi Zhou felt only the gentle touch of a cool towel brushing against his face, wiping away the beads of sweat brought on by the high fever.

His body felt clean and refreshed, not at all like the sticky aftermath one would expect after a bout of fever.

In his groggy state, he had overheard Ming Xi talking to the physician and instinctively assumed Ming Xi had helped clean him up. He opened his tired eyes, intent on saying thank you.

But the moment his vision cleared, the dream and reality collapsed into one.

It was dark again. Candles flickered in the room, and moonlight bathed the courtyard. An entire day had passed, and the fallen cherry blossom petals on the ground had grown into a thick, soft floral carpet.

Xie Jiu was sitting by his bed, head bowed. He had just pulled his hand away from Chi Zhou’s face and seemed about to soak the towel again to continue wiping him down.

Chi Zhou’s sudden awakening made Xie Jiu freeze. He stared down at him blankly, remaining silent for a long time.

Chi Zhou couldn’t decipher the complex emotions in those eyes, but thinking back to the dream, he suddenly felt a profound urge to sigh.

He reached his hand out from under the covers and, lacking strength, lightly brushed against Xie Jiu’s chest. His voice was hoarse and low, barely a whisper, yet perfectly suited for the stillness of the night.

“Does it hurt?” Chi Zhou asked softly.

The look in Xie Jiu’s eyes fractured instantly, replaced by a more hidden, desperate yearning. He had to grit his teeth to keep from saying anything that would sound pathetically humble.

Xie Jiu squeezed the towel. Even though it was already wrung dry, he managed to force out a few more drops of water.

He spoke, his voice every bit as raspy as Chi Zhou’s: “What?”

Chi Zhou said, “I dreamed that I kicked you once, does it hurt, Jiu Jiu?”

For once, Chi Zhou didn’t curse the original owner.

Clearly, the actions of the “Chi Zhou” in the dream deserved contempt, yet for a split second, he found he could understand the logic behind them and feel the same emotional turbulence.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he would have delivered that kick himself.

It was an excessive act, but the boy truly was infuriating.

He couldn’t explain where this feeling came from, but in the dream, he could feel a very real anger surging in his chest.

Since crossing over, Chi Zhou had many moments of being captivated by Xie Jiu’s beauty, which had already made him suspect he might be a bit of a rogue. Now, he discovered he might also have a streak of violence.

He couldn’t shift the blame entirely to the original owner. Chi Zhou rarely admitted it, but in front of Xie Jiu, he seemed to unconsciously amplify the darker traits in his nature.

It was strange, considering he clearly liked this young man.

Whether it was his looks or his personality, if it weren’t for an invisible tether holding him back, Chi Zhou wasn’t even sure if he would have actually slept with him.

Perhaps the high fever had scrambled his brain, because he thought about it for a long time and still couldn’t make sense of it.

Chi Zhou looked up, offering a weak smile as he apologized on behalf of the “Chi Zhou” in his dream: “I’m sorry, it must have hurt a lot.”

That “dead fat pig” looked to be nearly two hundred pounds, and the “Chi Zhou” in the dream had managed to kick him down the stairs with one blow. Xie Jiu was much lighter, so even if the force had been held back…

Chi Zhou didn’t dare think about it, feeling a wave of lingering fear and shock.

The bedroom was dimly lit. When Xie Jiu remained silent, Chi Zhou reached out to grab his fingers.

Xie Jiu’s fingers were cold, likely from repeatedly dipping into cold water. Chi Zhou traced his fingertips and gave his hand a squeeze: “Jiu Jiu.”

“Mm,” Xie Jiu finally deigned to respond.

Chi Zhou whispered again, “I’m sorry.”

The dead of night was silent. He didn’t know the hour, only that the small insects that usually chirped in the bushes were quiet, suggesting it was very late.

Chi Zhou both wanted Xie Jiu’s forgiveness and dreaded hearing him say it didn’t matter.

Because it did matter. Even in a dream, it felt painful.

So, after saying his apology, Chi Zhou shifted inward. Borrowing a bit of groggy confusion, he let out a yawn: “Jiu Jiu, sleep with me.”

He knew very well that if he kept staring at Xie Jiu waiting for an answer, the boy would eventually say it was fine, or even lie and say it didn’t hurt at all.

Chi Zhou didn’t want to hear that. He was so unwilling to hear it that, despite usually resisting physical intimacy, he actively made room on the bed and invited him up.

It was exactly what Xie Jiu had done on the pleasure boat when they first met.

Chi Zhou’s head was heavy. He had little strength left, and forcing himself to speak for this long had been difficult. Drowsiness was washing over him again.

He wanted to sleep, but worried Xie Jiu wouldn’t want to join him, so he patted the bed again and urged, “Come up, stop wiping.”

He only had a fever, he wasn’t dying. There was no need for someone to watch over him every second deep into the night.

Perhaps sensing his exhaustion, or perhaps finally regaining his composure, the look in Xie Jiu’s eyes shifted several times before he finally whispered, “There is no need to apologize.”

Chi Zhou sighed inwardly, realizing he had still underestimated the boy’s level of tolerance for the original owner.

It wasn’t even forgiveness, it was simply that he didn’t think it was something worth an apology in the first place.

Chi Zhou lifted his eyelids, giving Xie Jiu a long, helpless look, then tugged on his hand to pull him down beside him.

He was a bit annoyed but truly powerless, so he could only mumble, “Stop talking, sleep.”

Xie Jiu was pulled down by him, and his remaining words got stuck in his throat, finding no opportunity to be said.

Thus, Chi Zhou had no way of knowing that this person simply could not be understood with a normal thought process.

Because what Xie Jiu actually wanted to say was: “No need to apologize, it was me who was disobedient and made you angry.”

It was me who knew you would definitely come to save me, so I stayed there on purpose. It was me who knew you hated it most when I used self-harm to gain things you found unnecessary, yet I still gambled again and again that you couldn’t leave me be.

It was me being manipulative, me being bad.

It was me who knew you were drinking nuptial cups with someone in the brothel, so I deliberately provoked you to make you hit me, just to win that bit of guilt and pity, so that jealousy wouldn’t burn away my reason and I could hold onto a straw to keep breathing.

Brother, I have never been a kind or simple person.

So don’t apologize, it was I who did wrong.

Xie Jiu looked down at the already sleeping Chi Zhou, watching him silently for a long time, then curled himself into Chi Zhou’s embrace.

He was no longer of a size that could be easily held and coaxed to sleep in one bed, but perhaps because the first warmth he ever received in life came from this person, he stubbornly recreated every detail of their past together.

Even if Chi Zhou forgot, over and over again.

Xie Jiu’s voice was very soft, unclear as to who he was speaking to.

He said, “It was my fault, but I won’t change.”

How could he be a simple, innocent person? He was a vicious dog that had crawled out of the Cold Palace.

Chi Zhou should have known long ago.

Chi Zhou developed a low fever again in the latter half of the night. Xie Jiu woke up almost the instant he heard the breathing falter.

Between wiping him down and feeding him medicine, it wasn’t until dawn that Chi Zhou finally fell back into a stable sleep.

Xie Jiu, however, couldn’t sleep at all.

He sat by the bed, looking down at Chi Zhou’s sleeping face with a deep, unreadable gaze.

Until a pigeon’s cooing came from the window. Xie Jiu looked back and saw Chi Tong standing at the end of the long corridor.

Without waiting for her to knock, Xie Jiu stepped out first, tucking the covers around Chi Zhou before leaving.

Chi Tong’s raised hand paused in mid-air. She arched an eyebrow, saying playfully, “Haven’t seen you in a few years, and you’ve become more like a dog than ever.”

Xie Jiu looked at her coldly. “What is it?”

Chi Tong was amused. Stroking the feathers of the green-headed pigeon, she smiled. “I was the one who sent you the message, after all. Is such coldness appropriate?”

Xie Jiu stared at her chillingly, without a hint of softening.

Chi Tong looked down and chuckled to herself for a while. When she looked up again, there was a trace of mockery in her eyes.

“Your Highness,” she called softly, keenly noticing Xie Jiu’s gaze flicker toward the room behind him. “Brother still doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

Xie Jiu pressed his lips together, offering no response.

Chi Tong continued to herself, “True, after all, he hated you so much, he wished he had never—”

“What do you want?” Xie Jiu interrupted her.

Chi Tong paused, then broke into a gentle smile, as if the previous sharpness had never existed.

“I need to transport a batch of spices to the capital. Help me get a permit, if you please, Your Highness.”

Neither of them spoke further, but Chi Tong knew he had tacitly agreed.

The pigeon cooed a few times. Chi Tong stretched her hand out past the corridor, letting it fly into the sky. She then glanced toward the room and asked, “Has he woken up?”

Xie Jiu nodded. “Yes.”

“Is he… normal?”

Xie Jiu hesitated for a split second before nodding again. “Normal.”

Chi Tong pondered the pause in his voice and smiled. “Then I won’t disturb you. Cherish this time while you can.”

It was hard to tell if there was malice in her words. Xie Jiu’s brow furrowed, looking at her with displeasure.

Only then did Chi Tong seem to remember her manners. she performed a proper salute and prepared to leave, having no intention of going inside to check if Chi Zhou’s condition had improved.

On her way out, she ran into Ming Xi carrying medicine to be decocted. Chi Tong thought for a moment and stopped him to give an instruction: “Don’t call Xie Mingjing ‘Sixth Highness’.”

“I know,” Ming Xi said, used to this. “Call him Young Master Xie, right? It’s been like this for years.”

“For years?” Chi Tong asked.

“Yes,” Ming Xi said. “Third Miss, you weren’t in the manor so you wouldn’t know. The Young Master brings His Highness back to stay every once in a while. I’m always worried the Emperor will find out and come to settle scores.”

“Does Mother not know?”

“The Madam has run into them a few times, but she didn’t interfere,” Ming Xi replied.

Chi Tong fell silent and walked out of the Shuanghua Courtyard.

Watching the back of the third miss, Ming Xi remembered something trivial. He didn’t chase after her to say it, but muttered to himself in a small complaint, “Young Master really is something. His Highness clearly comes to the manor often, so why can he never remember his name?”

It made Ming Xi nervous every time, fearing His Highness would get upset and complain to the Emperor.

But his master always had a poor memory. Having had so many beautiful companions, he often forgot names upon seeing them again.

This happening with the Sixth Highness was unfortunate, but it seemed normal enough.

Only…

Ming Xi thought of something and couldn’t help but giggle.

He wondered if the Young Master would still dare to go out dallying once His Highness officially entered the manor after the wedding next month.

Surely someone would be able to keep him in check then?

Hehe.

Ming Xi thought happily, his steps light as he headed toward the kitchen, putting the small episode out of his mind.

Xie Jiu returned to the room. Chi Zhou was sleeping well.

Actually, Chi Zhou falling ill had been within his expectations, though he hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.

During these past days, the number of times Chi Zhou had slept soundly could be counted on one hand. Xie Jiu had been worried he would eventually collapse.

In the Marquis of Ningping’s manor, if one were to truly count, it was actually He Lingzhen, who suffered the most injuries and illnesses, who was currently the healthiest.

The Old Madam and the Third Miss were both known “sickly” types. The Little Marquis had a notorious reputation outside, known for his extravagance and debauchery, yet few knew he was constantly plagued by various ailments.

Xie Mingjing knew that for Chi Zhou, much of it was a sickness of the heart.

But he didn’t know exactly what he was worrying or grieving over.

Chi Zhou had once held him in his arms and sighed contentedly, “Jiu Jiu, I’m glad I have you. You are my special medicine.”

Xie Jiu didn’t know what qualified as “special medicine,” but he knew he wasn’t effective every time.

There was a period when Chi Zhou seeing him only intensified his nightmares, as if he weren’t a living person but some soul-claiming ghost.

It was only during these years, when Chi Zhou saw him while “normal,” that he became his exclusive medicine.

Chi Tong’s words earlier weren’t quite right. Chi Zhou had hated him, but that was a very, very long time ago.

Back then, he wasn’t pretty enough, smart enough, or well-behaved enough. He wasn’t even as endearing as Jinge with his soft fur. It was only natural for Chi Zhou not to like him.

But he didn’t want to explain that to Chi Tong.

He didn’t like Chi Tong.

He hated Chi Tong.

Xie Jiu lowered his head, sitting by Chi Zhou’s bed. He watched him for a long time, then whispered a complaint in an tiny voice, “Brother, get well quickly. Your sister is bullying me.”

She just relies on the fact that she’s your biological sister to bully me since we were little, Xie Jiu thought.

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