The Young Marquis is Ruining the Court! - Chapter 19

Chi Zhou didn’t remember getting sick often. When he was very young, he’d heard his parents mention that during the years before he could form memories, he practically lived in the hospital, his body perpetually carrying the lingering scent of disinfectant.

It was as if he were resisting entry into this world, using endless, heart-wrenching wails to declare his pain and unease, as if every illness was a way of saying goodbye to the mortal realm.

Whenever his parents spoke of this, they would look at him with a mix of relief and lingering fear, appearing to thank him for holding on.

But later, at a funeral, someone asked him with eyes full of poisonous resentment: “Why wasn’t it you who died?”

“You were clearly supposed to die a long time ago.”

They told Chi Zhou that his bonds with kin were thin, and that he was born to hex his parents and relatives. It would have been fine if he had died in his childhood, but his parents had clung to him like a life-saving straw, gripping his hope for survival with a deathly hold.

So, over the past decade or so, the people who died became his parents instead.

After that, even getting sick became a luxury for Chi Zhou.

**

Chi Zhou’s mind cleared slowly. That suffocating feeling of being dragged to the bottom of a lake gradually vanished. When he opened his eyes again, his heart felt empty, having already forgotten those traces of emotion that had long since become inconsequential due to the passage of time.

The sky was bright. In the courtyard, small birds perched on the branches, chirping away.

His high fever had broken, and the swelling in his ankle had subsided, showing just how well he had been cared for over the past two days.

After a moment of recovery, Chi Zhou sat up, picked up an outer robe from the small couch, and draped it over his shoulders.

There weren’t many servants in Shuanghua Court. The maid the Old Lady had sent to keep an eye on him a few days ago had been sent back to her own courtyard because Chi Tong had returned.

Perhaps because he had been drinking medicine for the past two days, Chi Zhou felt a bit hungry.

Not seeing Mingxi at first glance, he walked toward the kitchen himself, wanting to see if there was anything to eat.

The Marquis Mansion had a main kitchen. If He Lingzhen wasn’t home, the kitchen would prepare meals daily and send them to the Old Lady’s place and his own.

The small kitchen was rarely used for cooking, except for occasional treats. For the past two days, the kitchen in Shuanghua Court had been used solely to brew medicine for Chi Zhou.

As he approached, he smelled the thick scent of traditional Chinese medicine and instinctively felt a bit nauseous. His expression shifted, debating whether or not to go in.

But at a glance, he saw the young man sitting in front of the medicine stove, so Chi Zhou stepped inside anyway.

“Xie Jiu,” he called out.

The young man turned his head. Seeing him out of bed, he was stunned for a moment, but then immediately set down the cattail fan in his hand and walked over. He naturally checked the temperature of Chi Zhou’s forehead. “Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”

Chi Zhou felt a bit embarrassed and wanted to dodge, but then he remembered that he had dragged the man onto his bed last night to share a blanket. To dodge now would seem a bit pretentious.

So he just stood there, letting Xie Jiu’s cool back of the hand press against his forehead before pulling away. He replied, “I’m hungry.”

He was like a small animal that, due to the relaxation and fatigue of just recovering from a major illness, had lowered its guard against the world, showing a rare bit of endearing innocence.

Xie Jiu froze on the spot, failing to respond for a moment.

Chi Zhou blinked slightly and curled his lips. “I’m hungry, is there anything to eat here?”

Xie Jiu finally snapped back to reality and nodded immediately. “There’s porridge warming in the pot.”

He reached for the lid to serve it, but heard Chi Zhou sigh with a bit of disappointment behind him. “Just porridge…”

Xie Jiu’s movement to grab the bowl stopped. He turned back and asked, “You don’t want to eat it?”

Chi Zhou shook his head, acting unusually willful. “Too bland.”

Xie Jiu didn’t criticize him for being delicate or pampered. Instead, he pressed, “What do you want to eat?”

It was as if even if Chi Zhou asked for exotic delicacies at this moment, he would be able to get them for him.

Chi Zhou smiled. “Do you know how to cook?” He remembered the bowl of fermented rice soup with glutinous rice balls Xie Jiu had brought him before.

But there was no flour here, and he didn’t want to wait for dough to ferment.

Chi Zhou’s gaze swept around and landed on a basket of eggs in the cupboard. He said, “Can you boil eggs in brown sugar water? Put in a lot of sugar.”

Xie Jiu glanced at him. “Okay.”

While he went to boil the eggs, Chi Zhou took over the job of watching the medicine stove.

He sat on a small stool, leisurely fanning the fire with the cattail fan, but his eyes kept drifting toward the young man standing at the stove.

Xie Jiu was very tall, appearing to be nearly 190 centimeters, but the boy in the dream whose frame hadn’t yet filled out was actually about the same height as him. Chi Zhou deduced that the time was likely during Xie Jiu’s teenage years.

How old was he then?

Sixteen?

Seventeen?

Had he followed the original owner at such a young age?

Chi Zhou wasn’t paying attention, and his hand failed to control the force of the fan. The flames surged upward, and the medicine stove let out a bubbling sound.

Chi Zhou only felt a wave of heat hit him. Before he could react, Xie Jiu had already stepped over, pulled him up from the stool, and then bared-handedly uncovered the medicine stove while picking up the fire tongs to pull out a glowing piece of wood.

Chi Zhou stared at that piece of charcoal, his gaze suddenly unable to look away.

It wasn’t until Xie Jiu pressed down on his shoulder and called his name in a deep voice.

Chi Zhou came to his senses and looked up at him, his eyes momentarily empty of any color.

Xie Jiu suddenly felt a pang of panic and called out again, “Chi Zhou?”

Only then did a bit of human emotion return to Chi Zhou’s eyes.

“Sorry, I spaced out. I’ll wait for you outside,” he said quietly, pushing Xie Jiu’s shoulder and turning to walk straight out of the kitchen without looking at Xie Jiu’s expression.

Standing in the courtyard, with the wind from all directions brushing against his face and skin, Chi Zhou took a deep breath. He raised his hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart bit by bit.

He realized he seemed a bit strange.

He couldn’t say why, and he wasn’t quite sure of the reason.

If he had to say when it started, it might have been from the moment he had that dream.

Was it because of the original owner’s memories?

Chi Zhou didn’t know, because his own emotions had become somewhat inexplicable as well.

After a while, Xie Jiu came out carrying the bowl. Chi Zhou was sitting under a cherry blossom tree in the courtyard. There was a stone table and chairs under the tree, with a faded chessboard set on the table.

Chi Zhou was playing Gomoku against himself.

Xie Jiu glanced at it and placed the bowl outside the chessboard, but Chi Zhou’s eyes lit up. He pushed the pieces aside and took the bowl.

He smiled so brightly his eyes curved, as if that inexplicable emotion and reaction from earlier had never existed.

Consequently, that animal-like relaxation and innocence vanished as well.

“It smells so good, Jiujiu, you’re amazing.” Compliments came easily to his lips. Chi Zhou used a spoon to take a sip of the hot soup, blowing on it to cool it before sending it into his mouth. He immediately felt a sweetness that almost exploded in his mouth.

He squinted his eyes in satisfaction, feeling as if his body and mind were being filled up.

Xie Jiu sat down across from him, watching him drink the soup. His fingers clenched and loosened at his side. Finally, he picked up the pieces Chi Zhou had pushed aside and found a new spot to place one, then asked as if it were nothing, “Did you have a nightmare again?”

Chi Zhou had a large bite of egg in his mouth. Hearing this, he nodded and gave a muffled “Mm.”

As Xie Jiu reconstructed the game Chi Zhou had been playing, he asked nonchalantly, “Was it the same one as before?”

Chi Zhou’s chewing paused. He looked over at him.

The young man didn’t look at him, focusing intently on placing the pieces. The morning sunlight spread out behind him, shining on the pink and white floral carpet of fallen blossoms.

Everything was quiet and peaceful, with no hint of danger.

Yet Chi Zhou keenly sensed something was off. He looked down, swallowed the last bite of food in his mouth, and when he looked up again, his eyes were brimming with a smile.

He leaned forward, looking at Xie Jiu with a beaming smile, and asked, “Which one are you talking about?”

Xie Jiu’s hand stopped moving. He looked up to meet his gaze.

After a long silence, he said, “The one where you kicked me.”

Hearing this, the smile in Chi Zhou’s eyes grew even wider. He neither confirmed nor denied it, but instead said tenderly, “Jiujiu, if I dream of you, how could it be a nightmare?”

The late spring sunlight and breeze fell behind him. The cherry blossoms in the garden, blooming to the point of fading, added a sense of destiny—a beauty in full bloom just before the end.

It was almost like the wilting of life.

Xie Jiu’s grip on the black piece faltered. It fell onto the board, becoming a discarded piece that touched nothing, yet happened to sit with three others to trap a lone white piece.

Chi Zhou chuckled softly. “Jiujiu, that’s not how you play Gomoku.”

He reached out a finger to nudge it, moving the black piece onto a diagonal line to form a row of three.

He seemed to be telling him that this was the right way, the way to take the initiative and ensure the opponent’s every move stayed under one’s control.

But Xie Jiu lowered his eyes, only looking at that white piece that had escaped the encirclement because of his move.

It was as if the win or loss didn’t matter, he only wanted this white piece to be under his control forever.

Chi Zhou finished the last sip of brown sugar water, set down the bowl, and looked toward the sun. “Let’s go shopping. I’ll buy you some furniture.”

Xie Jiu looked at him, thought for a moment, and nodded. “Change your clothes first. We’ll leave after you drink your medicine.”

Xie Jiu asked if they should take a carriage, but Chi Zhou stamped his feet lightly, felt no pain, and refused.

They still didn’t use the main entrance. When he stepped out and onto the small alley by the back door, he was still sticking out his tongue and complaining about the bitterness.

The pink tip of his tongue peeked out and retracted, over and over, as if intentionally teasing.

Xie Jiu watched with darkened eyes for a moment, then pulled a dried apricot from the pouch in his sleeve and stuffed it into his mouth.

Chi Zhou’s lips and tongue instinctively closed. The moment he bit the fruit, he also caught the warm tip of a finger.

Xie Jiu acted as if he hadn’t noticed and quickly withdrew his hand.

Chi Zhou swirled the fruit with his tongue, the streaks of sweetness covering the bitterness and fishiness of the medicine.

He asked with a bit of surprise, “Why do you carry candied fruit on you?”

Xie Jiu replied, “I prepared it for you.”

It was too direct. The surprise on Chi Zhou’s face faded slightly. He was still smiling, but his tone wasn’t as high as before. He said, “Thank you, Xie Jiu… jiu.”

Xie Jiu turned his head, glanced at him, and let out a hum from his nose.

As they passed the deep red gate of Lu Zhongyuan’s house, Chi Zhou heard a few barks from inside and instinctively leaned toward the other wall.

Then, as if he had just remembered, he asked, “Did you give that little dog a name?”

“I did.”

“What is it?”

Xie Jiu looked down at him. Chi Zhou saw him looking over and even his eyebrows twitched, appearing very interested.

He didn’t ask how Xie Jiu had entered the Marquis Mansion, or how he could appear in his room in the middle of the night to care for him for two days and nights. Instead, he asked what name he gave a little dog.

Xie Jiu’s tongue flicked across his teeth. The emotions he had been suppressing all morning almost broke loose.

For a moment, he really wanted to just disregard everything and tell Chi Zhou exactly what he had named the dog.

He found it very puzzling why this person could be so good to him while being so guarded, why he could love him enough for sweet words to come so easily while hating him enough to never speak a word of truth.

But in the end, he didn’t do it.

Ultimately, he was afraid.

Just like on the Liuliyue, when Chi Zhou asked for his name and he didn’t tell the truth either.

But there was still anger. If he didn’t find another way to vent his unsuppressible temper, he would go mad.

So Xie Jiu stared quietly at Chi Zhou, then spoke in a low voice: “Xiao Chuan.”

“That dog is named Xiao Chuan.”

Chi Zhou: “…?”

Is that me?

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