AEOGA CH58

Seeing Xie Chongjin look increasingly aggrieved, Lu Xuechao paused, then said, “I’ll stay to keep you company tonight.”

If he remained out of Xie Chongjin’s sight for too long, Xie Chongjin would feel utterly insecure—and Lu Xuechao felt the exact same way. Neither of them could bear to be apart from the other.

Staying to accompany him for a night would also put Xie Chongjin’s heart at ease.

Usually, it was Xie Chongjin who came to Chongxue Palace to stay with him. Right after court adjourned, he would head straight to Lu Xuechao’s quarters, eating and sleeping almost exclusively at Chongxue Palace. Consequently, Zichen Palace, the emperor’s personal residence, was left empty night after night. Today, because Lu Xuechao was absent, Xie Chongjin found even his meals completely tasteless.

To think he left the palace without even a word to see another man—Xie Chongjin felt both aggrieved and furious.

Ever since that time Xie Chongjin had summoned Liu Yansheng to discuss official matters and triggered a stress response in Lu Xuechao, Xie Chongjin had been reporting his itinerary to Lu Xuechao down to the smallest detail. Yet here Lu Xuechao was, leaving the palace for such a major trip without making a single report.

What if he encountered danger along the way…? Across so many past lives, which lifetime hadn’t been fraught with blades, shadows, and endless crises? Even though Xie Chongjin had dispatched every single Inner Palace secret guard to protect Lu Xuechao, they still couldn’t prevent every insidious assassination attempt.

The more he thought about it, the more lingering fear seized him, and the angrier he grew.

Yet Xie Chongjin could never bring himself to lose his temper with Lu Xuechao, able only to sulk in silence. He had intended to wait until Lu Xuechao returned to the palace before heading to Chongxue Palace to vent his grievances, never expecting Lu Xuechao to come to Zichen Palace in person. Instantly, Xie Chongjin’s anger dissipated in the most unseemly manner.

At least he still knew to come find him, meaning he hadn’t completely thrown him to the back of his mind.

Hearing that Lu Xuechao was going to stay at his palace, Xie Chongjin was overjoyed and hurriedly ordered the servants to prepare the bed.

That night, lying upon the bed, Lu Xuechao remarked softly, “You still kept this bed.”

He glanced at Xie Chongjin beside him: “This bed no longer accords with the imperial regulations for an emperor. Why not replace it with a larger one?”

The bed in Zichen Palace was the very one used on their wedding night. Xie Chongjin had specifically ordered it moved over from the Eastern Palace. Since it was crafted for his time as Crown Prince, its dimensions were naturally smaller than what was expected for an emperor’s dragon bed.

Xie Chongjin replied, “What difference does size make? It’s just the two of us sleeping here anyway; there’s plenty of room no matter how we toss and turn.”

Lu Xuechao suddenly felt a touch self-conscious and pulled the quilt over his face: “…What kind of talk is that?”

“We are husband and wife in our bed chamber,” Xie Chongjin said with a smile, peeling Lu Xuechao out from under the quilt and tapping the tip of his nose. “Am I not even allowed to speak pillow talk?”

This single bed held countlessly cherished memories between them. The intimate moments of newlyweds, the attentive care during times of lingering illness, the domestic joys of drawing eyebrows and styling hair, the playful teasing and laughter… all were contained within this small world.

By the customs of Changli, when an emperor favored his consorts, he would visit their respective palaces. Unless it was the Empress or the person who held his heart most, no one was permitted to stay overnight in Zichen Palace to sleep upon the emperor’s dragon bed.

Even if a player on the Consort Route maxed out their favor value to the absolute highest, or even usurped the position of Empress after engineering Lu Xuechao’s death, they would never earn the right to stay overnight in Zichen Palace.

The only ones allowed to lie upon this bed had always been Xie Chongjin and Lu Xuechao; no one else would ever be permitted to defile it.

“Qingshu leaving the palace today without telling me truly made me angry,” Xie Chongjin said, gently pinching Lu Xuechao’s cheek. “Do you have any regard for your own safety at all?”

He would never shout at Lu Xuechao, his tone remaining gentle and soft, yet his anger was genuine.

“I had a group of guards with me, as well as your secret guards shadowing us,” Lu Xuechao reasoned. “Do you have no faith in them?”

“…” Xie Chongjin lowered his eyes. “I can only rest easy if I protect you personally.”

That useless lot—in past lives, he had dispatched every single one of them to protect Qingshu, yet had any of them actually managed to keep him safe? Entrusting him to others gave him no peace of mind whatsoever.

Though in truth, the most useless one of all had been himself. It was his own lack of capability that had failed to protect the person he loved.

Now that he possessed the power, he naturally had to exert every effort to protect Qingshu without the slightest oversight.

“There are no players stirring up trouble in this lifetime, so you don’t need to keep such a tight leash on me,” Lu Xuechao offered tactfully.

“Is Qingshu complaining that I control you too strictly?” Xie Chongjin sighed softly. “How could I not know that this lifetime is different? It’s just… Qingshu, I am simply too terrified.”

“I have lost you tens of thousands of times. Having finally regained you, how could you ask me to let go?”

Xie Chongjin stroked the bed beneath them and said slowly, “In those years… I exhausted every possible means yet could not keep you by my side. From then on, you became a wandering soul, and I a walking corpse. After losing you, I issued an order that upon my death, this bed was to be crafted into a coffin, to be buried together with you right here, sleeping for eternity beneath the earth. To share a quilt in life, and a grave in death. Now that I have my bedmate, at the side of my couch, whether in life or death, there will never be another.”

His voice grew lower: “What I fear even more is that there will be no one left beside my couch.”

“I know this might just be worrying over nothing, but the sky has truly collapsed on me too many times. I cannot help but worry.”

Lu Xuechao reached out to smooth the furrow in Xie Chongjin’s brow: “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

He knew Xie Chongjin’s desire to protect him was morbidly intense.

Just as his own possessiveness toward Xie Chongjin was equally morbid.

One had helplessly watched his beloved be murdered countless times, while the other had experienced his beloved’s “betrayal” time and time again.

The desperate longings born from such trauma were the most incurable affliction in the world.

Xie Chongjin clasped his hand: “How could it ever be Qingshu’s place to apologize?”

As he spoke, his posture lost its solemnity: “If you truly wish to make it up to me, it’s not often the Empress visits Zichen Palace—why not permit This Emperor to attend to the Empress in bed for three days and three nights…?”

Lu Xuechao was naturally ascetic, and Xie Chongjin was usually quite restrained.

These words were purely teasing.

Unexpectedly, Lu Xuechao merely glanced at him and said, “Alright.”

…

Early the next morning, Xie Chongjin emerged feeling thoroughly refreshed.

It hadn’t actually been three full days—they weren’t so absurd as to indulge in daytime debauchery. Though they had done plenty of that under the control of players in past lives, both remained clear-headed in the present.

However, three nights indeed took place. While called a compensation, Lu Xuechao ultimately bargained it down, coaxing Xie Chongjin into agreeing not to shadow him every second of the day, allowing each other a little personal space.

Having been well-serviced, Xie Chongjin was in a splendid mood. Even when Lu Xuechao mentioned he was heading back to Lin Manor in the capital suburbs today to see Lin Chanzhi, Xie Chongjin magnanimously agreed, “Go on.”

Capital Suburbs, Lin Manor.

“What sweet wine!” Lin Chanzhi exclaimed in pleasant surprise. “Mellow, sweet, and fragrant, yet with a distinct wine body that doesn’t burn the throat! Your Highness the Empress is truly incredible!”

He hadn’t quite understood the Empress’s instructions from a few days ago. He had simply followed orders: grinding barley and wheat into powder to let them go moldy, while soaking, rinsing, and steaming glutinous rice. His Highness had explained that the former was used to make the starter culture for fermentation, which would then be mixed with the latter to settle and yield a clear brew.

Several steps were particularly complex and had been completed by Lu Xuechao in person.

Lin Chanzhi had watched in silent awe, and upon tasting the resulting rice wine, he was instantly filled with profound reverence.

The strong liquors of the present era were harsh and cloudy, easily causing intoxication, and those without a refined palate would even find them bitter and burning. Yet the rice wine crafted by His Highness possessed a clear, translucent hue and a mellow, sweet aroma—delicious to drink without being intoxicating.

This was nothing short of a monumental milestone in the brewing industry.

“Once this rice wine hits Huaman Pavilion, it will undoubtedly be snapped up in no time!” Lin Chanzhi could already picture how popular it would be.

“For tomorrow’s Mid-Autumn Banquet, besides Manjianghong, send a few crocks of this rice wine as well,” Lu Xuechao instructed.

Lin Chanzhi beamed: “Yes!”

Looking out over the expansive fruit orchard Lin Chanzhi had cultivated, Lu Xuechao already had a vision taking shape: “If rice can be brewed into wine, so can fruit. When the fruit harvest comes next year, we can also try making fruit juices and brewing fruit wines.”

Lin Chanzhi felt his heart surge with excitement, wishing he could leap straight into next year.

He didn’t even consider whether the trial might fail. Whatever His Highness the Empress attempted would never end in failure.

His Highness the Empress was truly an absolute deity.

The fifteenth day of the eighth month—the Mid-Autumn Festival.

A bright, pristine moon hung high in the sky. Inside NONGJU Garden, palace lanterns shone in brilliant splendor as palace attendants moved in a steady stream, hosting a bustling evening banquet.

Large, magnificent chrysanthemums bloomed in abundance, a vibrant array of deep reds, bright yellows, and soft pinks—a lush, elegant tapestry of blossoms.

Seated at his place, Helian Xi gazed up at the bright moon in the sky, his expression momentarily vacant.

A full moon symbolized reunion; celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival in a foreign land for the first time, it was impossible not to feel a surge of homesickness.

Last Mid-Autumn, he had spent it in the Xifeng imperial palace.

The inner court of Xifeng Kingdom was nothing like the quiet, sparse harem of Changli. In Xifeng, women were revered while men bore children. The Empress Mother possessed a harem of three thousand beauties, with seventeen imperial daughters and over twenty imperial sons; a single garden couldn’t even seat them all during the Mid-Autumn Banquet, leaving many lower-ranked consorts without the status to attend.

Though his father consort wasn’t favored, he had given birth to a daughter and a son. Supported by his children, he held a fairly exalted position among the consort ranks.

Back then, amidst the autumn scenery, the garden was filled with grandly dressed consorts, imperial daughters, and imperial sons—so many that Helian Xi couldn’t even recognize them all. Eight imperial daughters had already reached adulthood, and the one with the greatest prospect of vying for the position of Crown Princess was the First Imperial Daughter born to Consort Shu—a benevolent and kind eldest daughter who held the people’s hearts. The Second Imperial Daughter, born to the Empress, was arrogant and domineering, yet held the prestige of being the legitimate daughter. The Fourth Imperial Daughter, born to Consort De, possessed a deep, calculating mind, with her maternal grandmother serving as the Prime Minister. And then there was the Seventh Imperial Daughter, born to Consort Xian and sharing the same mother as himself, who was the most valiant and skilled in battle.

Three Consorts and one Empress—four factions gathered in one space, dark undercurrents surging beneath. The rest chose their respective sides, engaging in factional strife.

That scene… all Helian Xi could recall was a crowd of consorts trading cold mockery and biting satire, a horde of sisters shooting arrows in the dark, and even the imperial sons engaging in petty intrigues. Because he preferred wielding spears and swords and lacked a proper gentlemanly demeanor, he was frequently mocked by other imperial sons, with his elder sister stepping in to protect him every time. The Empress Mother didn’t like him either, or she wouldn’t have so easily sent him to Changli for a marriage alliance.

Apart from missing his father consort and elder sister, Helian Xi felt there was hardly anything else in Xifeng worth yearning for.

He wondered if his father consort and elder sister were doing well now. Having lost the war, would the Empress Mother grow to despise them?

The young prince felt a touch of homesickness, his expression despondent.

“Why are you staring at the moon like an idiot?” Qin Yulong’s bright, energetic youthful voice broke in. “Acting like you’ve never seen the moon before.”

Helian Xi snapped out of his reverie and glared at him in embarrassed anger: “If I don’t admire the moon on Mid-Autumn, am I supposed to admire you?! Ancients composed poetry to the moon; a brute like you naturally wouldn’t understand.”

“Who says I haven’t read books?” Qin Yulong scoffed. “‘I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, and lower it to think of my hometown.’ You miss home?”

“If you knew, why did you have to say it out loud?” Helian Xi grew even more annoyed with him. If not for Qin Yulong, how would he have ended up unable to return home?

“Must be nice for you—you aren’t separated from your family by vast distances. You’re both in Yujing, able to meet whenever you want,” Helian Xi said crossly. “Even if you know the poem, you can’t truly empathize with me.”

Qin Yulong said, “Why wouldn’t I understand? I just don’t think of home when I see the moon, but when I was out fighting the war, I missed home terribly.”

“I may not know anything about ‘Living as a stranger in a foreign land, I miss my kin twice as much on festive occasions,’ but I do know ‘Beacon fires have burned for three months straight, a letter from home is worth ten thousand pieces of gold,'” Qin Yulong continued. “When I was fighting the war, I had nightmares every night, fearing I’d die on the battlefield and never see my father again. That wasn’t just separated by national borders—that was separated by the boundary of life and death.”

Helian Xi: “…Are you using the example of invading my country to prove that you can miss home too? Do you really think that showcases some appalling capacity for empathy?”

“…I just wanted to say that being alive is already wonderful. At least you’re alive, and your family is alive too. When two nations go to war, casualties are unavoidable.” Qin Yulong likely intended to comfort Helian Xi, but because he was so accustomed to trading jabs, he couldn’t bring himself to speak gentle words for a moment. Instead, he pointed stiffly at the steamed crabs on the table: “Look at these crabs—an entire family of crabs, neat and tidy, all reunited in the underworld. Is this the kind of reunion you wanted?”

Helian Xi was profoundly astounded: “Qin Yulong, I have never met anyone who knows how to talk quite like you.”

He truly wasn’t sad anymore.

He was just furiously angry now.