Chapter Thirty-Two: Lingxuan Pavilion

“Rest assured, Young Master Ji. I will do everything in my power to treat your elder brother’s illness,” Wang Ruosheng replied.

Ji Yuyun’s brows eased as he spoke, “Doctor Wang, there’s no need to merely do your best. I believe your esteemed father must have even better methods.”

“Yuyun… cough, cough, say no more,” Ji Yuzhe tugged at him.

“Yes, brother,” Ji Yuyun replied obediently.

“In that case, perhaps it would be best for my father to treat you. May I accompany you to observe? That way, I might soon be able to offer what little help I can,” Wang Ruosheng said.

“That’s wonderful,” Ji Yuzhe smiled. “Doctor Wang should come often to our residence to observe. I’m bored to death staying home alone.”

“Then I’ll follow Young Master Ji’s lead,” Wang Ruosheng replied with a smile.

Ji Yuzhe gazed at him for a moment, then said, “I don’t know why, but whenever I see Doctor Wang, my illness feels half cured. Doctor Wang is the real medicine.”

The playful remark made Wang Ruosheng’s heart race. He masked his expression and answered, “Perhaps it is what they call affinity with the healer.”

Ji Yuyun tugged Ji Yuzhe’s sleeve, “Brother, Doctor Wang should be returning soon. Let’s go check on him. We can chat more when he visits our residence another day.”

Though he said so, Ji Yuyun’s glance at Wang Ruosheng betrayed his wish that the doctor would never appear again.

“Very well, then I’ll take my leave,” Ji Yuzhe thanked him.

Doctor Wang happened to return just as they left Wang Ruosheng’s door, and they ran into him.

After seeing to Ji Yuzhe’s illness and sending him off, Wang Ruosheng stood beside Doctor Wang and asked, “Father, how much longer can that young master live?”

Doctor Wang sighed, “If his condition improves, he may live another eight or ten years. If it worsens, three or five years is uncertain… hey, where are you going?”

“Back to find medical texts,” Wang Ruosheng replied, and left.

Doctor Wang was puzzled. What was with his son? Though he was loath to admit it, his son’s medical skills were decent, but he lacked any compassion.

His indifference to life was what Doctor Wang most disliked, though he often told Wang Ruosheng to change. Yet, since his son began practicing medicine, he had never made a mistake, nor committed any excesses. There was nothing more to say. This was the first time he’d shown concern for a particular illness.

Should he be glad, or not?

Yu Hualiang bought paper and returned. Ah Liu had been resting since coming back, and Yu Hualiang pondered how to paint a sea for Ah Liu to see.

The paper was half as tall as a person, and twice as wide. Mo Cai was washing the brush for him, then looked up and asked, “Young master, is this all right?”

“Mm, bring it here. Grind the azure stone a bit.”

Yu Hualiang weighed the brush in his hand. It was just right—not too heavy or too light.

Sky and sea touched. He began painting the sky, blending colors from pale to deep, then slowly painted the undulating waves of the sea.

He painted for half the day, finally finishing. Mo Cai came to look, but couldn’t quite tell what it was.

He scratched his head and asked, “Young master, what is this?”

Yu Hualiang put down the brush, “The sea!”

“The sea?” Mo Cai was confused. He’d never seen the sea—only heard it was vast, all water.

Yet what Yu Hualiang depicted was just a stretch of blue, unfathomable. Was the real sea truly like this?

“Mo Cai, stop staring—mount it, then stand it up,” Yu Hualiang instructed.

After Mo Cai diligently finished, he hung the painting by the window. Light shone through, and indeed, it looked as if the surface rippled with water.

Mo Cai was transfixed, as if the scene truly unfolded before his eyes—a vast expanse of sea.

“Master! Is this really the sea?” Mo Cai’s eyes sparkled as he pointed at the painting.

Yu Hualiang, arms folded, had gotten blue pigment all over his clothes and face.

Mo Cai glanced at Yu Hualiang’s awkward state and said, “Master, you should change. I’ll wash these for you.”

Only then did Yu Hualiang notice the mess. He laughed, took off his clothes, and Mo Cai went to fetch clean ones. Yu Hualiang felt cold and curled up under the covers.

Just then, the Seventh Prince arrived to visit. Mo Cai, worried the clothes would be cold, set them by the stove to warm. The Seventh Prince entered, seeing Yu Hualiang lying with his back to him on the bed.

Yu Hualiang heard the door open, and a chill swept in. He shrank and called, “Mo Cai! Close the door, it’s so cold!”

The Seventh Prince chuckled softly, closed the door, and when Mo Cai tried to bow, stopped him. He took the clothes from Mo Cai and sent him out.

Yu Hualiang sensed something amiss—Mo Cai coming and going so often, what was he up to?

He turned, and saw the Seventh Prince standing at his bedside, smiling.

Yu Hualiang startled and sat up, unsure how to respond, and after a moment, stammered, “Your Highness…”

“Ziliang, it’s just the two of us now. Let’s dispense with formalities,” said the Seventh Prince.

“Alright,” Yu Hualiang replied, raising his eyes to the clothes in the prince’s hands, hastily reaching for them. “Your Highness… I’ll do it myself.”

The Seventh Prince pressed his hand, “Ziliang is still wounded. Let me help.”

Unable to resist the prince’s enthusiasm, Yu Hualiang let him help dress him, first pulling on the white inner robe.

The prince glanced at the red mark on his neck and smiled, “Did you sleep well last night, Ziliang?”

Without thinking, Yu Hualiang replied, “Quite well.”

The Seventh Prince suddenly leaned in, startling him—but only to help him with the outer garment. Still, it was so close, it would seem to anyone else they were embracing, close enough to catch the floral scent from the prince.

The fragrance soothed Yu Hualiang’s nerves, and gradually he was less tense.

After dressing him, the prince even gently wiped the pigment from his face. Yu Hualiang’s heart raced wildly.

He quickly stepped back, rubbing his face hard, “No need to trouble Your Highness, I can manage myself.”

“No need for formality between us, Ziliang. Without you by my side last night, I barely slept,” the prince said, feigning a little grievance.

Yu Hualiang felt awkward—what did it matter to him? The prince merely lacked a warm bedmate. Surely anyone could fill the role, so why must it be him?

“Your Highness, perhaps tonight you might try someone else?” Yu Hualiang ventured tentatively.

The prince’s face darkened at once, “Ziliang, are you rejecting me?”

“No, absolutely not!” Yu Hualiang hurriedly explained.

The prince grew serious, “Only Ziliang may sleep by my side. Only then can I rest easy.”

Yu Hualiang was once again overwhelmed by the prince’s favor, awkwardly laughing, “I am… humbled by Your Highness’s kindness…”

The prince smiled, sitting with Yu Hualiang, and looked up at the paintings in the room—startled to find all were portraits of him.

That day, he had tested Lin Ting, wondering if his own expression was so bleak. The day at the lakeside—the scenery was truly so beautiful? Why had he never noticed, living here all these years?

Yu Hualiang noticed the prince admiring the paintings and asked tentatively, “Your Highness, are you satisfied?”

“Excellent,” the prince replied simply. Just two words, yet they fulfilled Yu Hualiang.

Looking back later, Yu Hualiang himself could not explain it. Perhaps it was simply that the prince was the subject.

To receive praise and affirmation from the person himself—it was only right that Yu Hualiang felt content.

The Seventh Prince lifted his tea cup, “Ziliang, didn’t you want to visit Lingxuan Pavilion?”

At the mention, Yu Hualiang brightened, “I do, very much!”

“When your wounds heal in a few days, I’ll take you there,” said the prince.

Yu Hualiang’s eyes sparkled. He’d finally be able to meet the ladies after so long—it was thrilling just to imagine.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Yu Hualiang nearly leapt into the prince’s arms in joy.

The prince was pleased to see his happiness. With the day agreed upon with the Fourth Prince approaching, aside from poisoning those two foreign envoys, there was little else to do.

Why not bring Yu Hualiang along for company?

That night, Ye Fang came to call Yu Hualiang. Ah Liu, watching him closely, made Yu Hualiang awkwardly smile, “Just going to work.”

Ah Liu protested, “Who works at night!”

Yu Hualiang hastily found a pretext, “Ah, painting fireworks! Of course it must be at night, right?”

This explanation finally soothed Ah Liu, who threw himself into Yu Hualiang’s arms, looking up at him, “Hualiang must return early.”

Yu Hualiang nodded, “I will.”

He patted Ah Liu’s head, but Ah Liu was not satisfied and pressed his lips up for a kiss. Though Yu Hualiang was inwardly reluctant, he forced himself to comply.

Just as their lips met, the door opened. Yu Hualiang and Ah Liu pulled apart, and the Seventh Prince’s smile was full of meaning, making Yu Hualiang’s scalp tingle.

“Ziliang, hurry up.”

Yu Hualiang nodded, told Ah Liu “be good, listen,” and followed the prince to the carriage.

This time, even Mo Cai wasn’t allowed to accompany them. Yu Hualiang and the prince shared the carriage, and the awkward atmosphere lingered.

Bored, Yu Hualiang gently lifted the curtain, peering at the bustling streets at night in awe—this must be the famed City That Never Sleeps.

The prince saw his amazement and smiled, “Ziliang, is this your first time out at night?”

Yu Hualiang turned back—how to phrase it? He truly had never seen ancient streets at night. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Never seen it here.”

The carriage suddenly halted—they had arrived. Before getting out, the prince instructed him not to call him Seventh Prince here, but simply Zicheng.

Yu Hualiang nodded, and they alighted.

The scene before him stirred his soul. The pavilion was antique and three stories high, adorned with colorful lanterns, dazzlingly bright.

Each floor had several lightly-clad girls, smiling down at passersby. As Yu Hualiang looked up, a girl tossed down a handkerchief.

He caught it perfectly—lotus-colored, embroidered with flowers, and scented with powder, intoxicating.

The prince snatched the handkerchief and handed it to Ye Fang, “Return it to that young lady.”

The girl called down, “Young master, do you like it?”

Yu Hualiang smiled, but before he could reply, the prince pulled him close and led him inside.