Your Majesty, Please Be Obedient - Chapter 24

After that day, no major incidents occurred for a long time.

The capital returned to tranquility. Qin Shizhi no longer monitored Fang Hongxi’s movements, as he had already obtained the answers he sought. Time flowed unnoticed, passing as swiftly as a white horse leaping across a gap.

How many years had it been?

Jiang Qiyan reached out and caught a falling leaf drifting from the sky. It turned out to be the fifth Mid-Autumn Festival already.

His head was suddenly ruffled. He turned around and lowered his eyes. He had grown up a bit and was much taller now. But as he grew, Master grew as well. Come to think of it, in two days, it would be Master’s eighteenth birthday.

He looked at Pu Tingsong, and Pu Tingsong looked back at him. After a long silence, Pu Tingsong measured the boy’s height with his left hand and chuckled. “Not bad. You are as high as my waist now. That milk was not drunk in vain, but little Qiyan still needs to work harder and strive to grow even taller.”

Jiang Qiyan did not answer. He merely pursed his lips slightly and turned his head away.

“What is it?” A long sigh hovered above him. “Which of my words has offended little Qiyan again?”

He still did not answer, but emotions flickered in his eyes.

“Silent again.” Pu Tingsong pulled him a bit closer, holding his face straight. “Who spoiled you to have such a temper? Hmm?”

“You.”

After Jiang Qiyan gave his brief reply, the rhythm of his heartbeat increased slightly. He seemed to be ill, perhaps with a heart ailment, or perhaps something was simply wrong with his brain. Whenever he got close or spoke a few words, his heart felt as if it wanted to burst from his chest. If the heart bursts from the chest, a person dies, right?

Jiang Qiyan pursed his lips even tighter. “No.”

“No what?” The voice was very gentle. Yet, like a heavy stone, it easily sent ripples through the heart he was trying so hard to keep calm.

“No, not throwing a temper.”

As soon as Pu Tingsong released his cheeks, he turned his head away again. But even though his head was turned, his eyes could not help but drift back to the right. His gaze fell upon Master’s waist and abdomen. The moment it touched, he looked away in a panic. What exactly was happening to him?

“I, I want to read,” Jiang Qiyan had already stepped onto the stairs but suddenly stopped and took a deep breath. “Do not follow me.”

He looked at the glass window that had been installed recently. Two shadows were projected on the glass. Master seemed to know he was watching through the window and smiled dotingly, meeting his gaze.

This was too much.

Jiang Qiyan was about to cover his chest, but realizing Master could see him in the window, he dropped his hand for fear of being discovered. He took several deep breaths until his mind finally calmed down.

“In that case, the study belongs to you today.”

With that one sentence, all his efforts were in vain. The symptoms seemed to worsen, and he fled in a panic, not daring to stay a moment longer. Closing the door, he leaned against it and lightly thumped his chest. It took a long time for him to catch his breath. He steadied himself and searched the bookshelves.

Treatise on Febrile and Miscellaneous Diseases? There seemed to be no matching symptoms. Perhaps he should check the Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon.

Jiang Qiyan pulled the book out and walked to the small table. He suddenly frowned. This table was a bit small. He had grown too fast recently, yet the table was still the same one from before.

“Thud!”

The book suddenly slipped from his hand and hit the table. This table was so small that sitting at it for even a short while made him feel uncomfortable. Yet Master had sat with him for five years. Not five days, not five months, but five years.

His heart gave a sudden jump and even a sharp throb of pain. Master had never shown any discomfort, yet he had been so slow that he had allowed Master to suffer this grievance for five years.

The light in Jiang Qiyan’s eyes dimmed slightly. He was too foolish. Master did not need to hide things from him intentionally; simply not mentioning them was enough to keep him in the dark for a long time.

Jiang Qiyan took the book and sat behind the large desk piled with memorials. His finger slid across the pages. When he flipped to a certain page, his pupils suddenly contracted.

Fire in the heart, burning the five internal organs, fire poison entering the marrow, an incurable disease.

Patients are often accompanied by palpitations, mental confusion, nocturnal emissions, poor appetite, or irritability.

It mostly occurs in autumn. Using medicine to alleviate and guide the flow can prolong life by a few years; otherwise, by the following summer solstice, when the earth’s fire is strong and pulls the heart’s fire, hot blood will rush to the brain, leading to death by congestion.

Was he going to die?

Jiang Qiyan sat dazed all afternoon. It was not until dusk fell that he accepted this heavy reality.

There were three gentle knocks on the door. Before Pu Tingsong could speak, the door was pulled inward, and a figure crashed into his arms. The force was so great that it even caused him to take half a step back from the momentum!

“Have you not been avoiding me lately?” Pu Tingsong tried to pull the person away, but the one circling his waist did not budge. He gave a soft sigh. “Why this all of a sudden?”

“If,” Jiang Qiyan did not continue. He buried his head deep into Master’s abdomen. “When will Master hold the birthday banquet?”

Tears silently dampened Master’s robes. This should be the last birthday he could spend with Master, right?

“Probably the day after tomorrow.”

Master’s palm suddenly pressed against his forehead, pushing him to look up. He saw what looked like peach blossoms blooming in Master’s smiling eyes. “What book is so difficult? Even if you do not understand it, you do not need to run out and cry in my arms, do you? Shall I help you take a look?”

His heart skipped a beat again. He muttered, “No.”

“I am curious.”

“No.” He tightened his arms.

“Be good,” there was a sigh. “Loosen your hands. My waist is thin enough. If you wrap any tighter, it might break when the wind blows.”

“No.” He held on even tighter.

“What is wrong? Tell me?” A pause, then a supplement. “I do not want to hear you say no.”

So, he simply stopped talking. After a long silence, Pu Tingsong shook his head. “You were quite cute when you were little.”

The body in front of him suddenly stiffened. Pu Tingsong smiled unconsciously. “I did not say you are not cute now, it is just,” He looked down at the child’s ears, which were perked up like an eavesdropping rabbit. He smiled. “You have not been very obedient lately.”

The head in his arms burrowed deeper. Just as Pu Tingsong thought he would not answer, a very faint voice reached his ears.

“I, I am obedient.”

“Then tell me, why were you crying just now?”

The person in his arms fell silent again. Pu Tingsong sighed. “Let go. I will lead you.”

He let go reluctantly and then tightly gripped Master’s hand. Only after they had walked a long distance did he speak softly. “I do not like chrysanthemums. If Master wants to give flowers, give peach blossoms.”

“That is a difficult problem. Where am I to find peach blossoms in autumn?” Pu Tingsong thought for a moment but found no solution. He said helplessly, “How about I plant some in the courtyard when spring arrives?”

He did not answer, but his voice carried a hint of a sob. “When you bring pastries, bring more jujube paste cakes. I like to eat them.”

“Qiyan,” Pu Tingsong suddenly knelt down and pulled him close. “This is a bit strange. What are these instructions you are giving me?”

“Nothing.” He kept his head down, restraining the tears that wanted to fall. “I do not feel well. I want to eat dinner in my room. When Master brings the food, bring some pastries as well.”

“Not feeling well?” Pu Tingsong’s expression became grave instantly. “Give me your hand.”

“It is nothing, just a slight cold,” Jiang Qiyan sniffled, pretending to have a stuffed nose. He absolutely could not let Master feel his pulse. If Master knew he was dying.

Jiang Qiyan hid his hands in his sleeves and said softly, “I am going back to my room.”

Pu Tingsong watched Jiang Qiyan’s departing back thoughtfully, the worry in his eyes deepening. He thought for a moment, turned back, and entered the study. Jiang Qiyan had put the book back on the shelf after reading it but had not paid much attention to the order. The trace was obvious.

With a grave expression, Pu Tingsong pulled out the misplaced Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon. He flipped through the pages quickly until he stopped at a page wrinkled by tears.

An incurable disease. How could this be?

Pu Tingsong’s fingers suddenly clenched. It was a long time before his dark expression smoothed over. It was fine. This book was written by ancients many years ago. Even if it could not be cured then, could it not be cured now? Since he knew it was fire poison, he would send people to find divine items that reduce heat. No matter what.

Pu Tingsong suddenly thought of something and touched his chest. There was a piece of cold jade there, hung around his neck by his mother when he was born. It was one of the few mementos his mother had left him.

Pu Tingsong stood in the courtyard for a while. The bleak autumn wind seemed to heighten the reluctance of parting. His gaze gradually became determined.

Jiang Qiyan’s life belonged to him. No one could take it away! No one could take what belonged to him, not even the King of Hell!

Jiang Qiyan sat at the table, using the lamplight to knit something with a needle and thread. A few days ago, he had heard the cooks chatting, saying that winter was coming and they wanted to knit inner shirts and scarves for their husbands. He thought that he also wanted to knit for Master.

An inner shirt was too complicated to learn in a short time, but a bold and lively cook had taught him how to knit a scarf. As he knitted, he wept silently. Master would be very happy to receive this birthday gift. As long as he could see Master happy before he died, he would be especially satisfied.

Master was always smiling, but he always felt that those smiles lacked sincerity. There were very few times when Master was truly happy. Master’s life had been too bitter. He, he really wanted.

The door was suddenly pushed open. Jiang Qiyan hurriedly pulled open a drawer and stuffed the unfinished scarf inside. When he used to knit it, he would chuckle secretly. Now, now.

Jiang Qiyan hastily wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. He turned around and looked at Pu Tingsong without a word. Pu Tingsong felt as if a knife had cut a wound in his heart, causing continuous pain.

“Be good.”

Jiang Qiyan pursed his lips and looked up. Master’s voice was exceptionally gentle and light, as if he feared a louder or heavier tone would startle him.

“See if you like these dishes.”

“Um.”

“If you do not like them, I can make them again,” Pu Tingsong’s hands trembled slightly. “I will go do it now.”

So Master had made them personally?

“I like them,” he repeated as he watched Master turn around, “I like them.”

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