'Is it a new manipulation trick to make me feel guilty? Or is he really sorry?'
He swallowed. His throat suddenly felt dry again—even more than before. He felt his cheek warm up stupidly again. He couldn't believe he was blushing so messily over some general apology, when nothing like the novels had happened—just a ridiculous reality of pressure, hand slaps, hair slaps. Then lastly, fear of ghosts and needles.
'But... it's working anyway....'
After bringing back his voice—which felt like it was being pulled down by every conflict alive in him—he managed to say, a little gruffly yet awkwardly, "G-good that you realized your mistake. The slap was.. indeed hard. But not.. unbearable."
Lìngxiāo exhaled softly as he slowly sat up again, bringing the towel back to his own forehead.
Chóng Fēi quickly raised himself to a sitting position, his arm moving over Lìngxiāo's forearm—a gesture he hadn't even realized he'd made until after it happened—helping him sit.
"You are sitting up again. What is the hurry for you?" Chóng Fēi still muttered, seeing sleepy but steady eyes that seemed to want less light in the room, though it was already dimmer than any other room.
Lìngxiāo didn't answer that question. He just added to what he was saying—the apology. "You are still a young prince. I should have been more patient with you."
Chóng Fēi's mouth shut at that comment.
'Again he calls me small!! I am freaking twenty!!'
His eyes shut like he was telling himself: control.. control.
Perhaps Lìngxiāo had noticed how the soft spark in his eyes had gone at that comment. He wouldn't admit it—but as the last alive and youngest son, he would never stop wishing to be treated like an elder. A wise man.
"I mean you really are in your golden age.. to be called young. Now.." Lìngxiāo's hand searched the dressing table for his pocket watch. "Your next dose for the needles is close. No pressure yet, but you have to take it within the night."
'No.. why is he changing the topic now? He didn't answer that damn question!'
'He talks like he is twenty years older than me.'
'Is he going to do this treatment while he's still struggling to sit up properly?'
"W-wait." Chóng Fēi called again, like he was taking a pause from everything pressing down on him. And it kept coming. "You were about to ask me something."
"You really wish to answer?" Lìngxiāo asked, curiosity laced with gentle awe.
"I really am serious." He nodded once, determined. Then he reminded, "I am not.. going to take the dose until night."
His cheeks flushed with the worst possibilities. "Who knows where you will pin it instead of.. knees, elbows, or neck.."
Lìngxiāo nodded once with a faint, almost fond smile—probably catching what he meant. He pushed back his hair with the damp towel.
Like that before, Lìngxiāo looked around deliberately before adding, "I have asked to see first if you were open. The question is.. silently private. We cannot speak at places like my chamber or yours, where gûi are the most active. Nor among common people."
Chóng Fēi stared at him like all his preparation had gone to water.
"Can't you just whisper into ears?" He hissed faintly, his patience running thin. "Do I have to book a haunted restaurant for talking here? Come on. We are alone. What would ghosts do with information? They don't have heads like humans." Chóng Fēi sat straight, pointing at his own left ear. "Here or nowhere."
Lìngxiāo faintly clicked his tongue—the faintest sigh of him getting just as worked up again without starting their arguments. "This is a sensitive matter, Gōngzǐ. Why do you not understand?" He pressed, his smile tight.
But Chóng Fēi didn't move from his decision. He sat a little closer, awkwardly, but still wasn't going to wait another moment.
Lìngxiāo blinked and moved back a little, equally stubborn. "I will not say it without privacy either." He muttered, getting busy with tying his hair into a ponytail for comfort—which he was never usually seen doing.
Chóng Fēi's poor pout flickered now, watching Lìngxiāo in another new form, while he hadn't even recovered from the slap or this almost-drowning moment. The open hair made him look like walking royalty disguised as a normal human—without having to rely on striking features beyond a slim face and those eyes with their common pale skin color.
But this—he looked young, like they were the same age.
His high collar hugged the slope of his neck, showing its beautifully formed shape but exposing nothing. The gentle curve of his hair at the front framed his face like it was meant to be there. The tied hair made his jawline appear sharper than other days, since there was no "brown veil" hiding it.
'God. He really is not in his right mind properly. He is breaking his own rule of appearance in front of me. Did I clip a bit of his hair or force-drink him wine to act THIS drunk?'
But he didn't remind him either. He believed perhaps he was feeling.. warm because of the fever.
Lìngxiāo paused when he almost tied up his hair. Then he looked at him. He seemed to come back to his senses just a little, and let his hair fall back to its place awkwardly, adjusting it behind.
"I just meant.. we will talk about it when outside. Not here, Gōngzǐ. I am not comfortable with this again." Lìngxiāo said again—but this time he voiced his insecurity too lightly, which was the opposite of what he had been doing earlier.
His gaze was elsewhere, his cheeks a little flushed, and that permanent smile made it look like he was shy in a sweet way. His lips were a little torn at the corner—which he noticed just now.
'He always hangs me at the middle.'
He was just about to press a little bit more when a familiar male voice—chaotic, with the sharp thok-thok of boots—echoed outside the room, from the corridors.
" Fēi gēge?? Where are you?! Shù fù is searching for you like you're the air! Come out before he breaks more doors!"
It was none other than Zì Hāo.
Lìngxiāo also looked at the door. He looked visibly curious. But he didn't ask anything—only looked at Chóng Fēi through his lashes.
Chóng Fēi's breath stopped mid-path, his back straight, shoulders tense like a mouse hiding cheese.
'Why did this guy come here at this hour?'
'He would go and tell zhù fù if he finds me coming out of his room.'
His gaze flickered over his own hand, which was still over Lìngxiāo's sleeve. He quickly moved it away like it burned, standing up quickly yet framing it as composed, straightening his robes.
He knew this moment would come. But he hadn't expected his cousin here either. Usually he came in the evening if he came at all.
'But I thought the mount yào is..far enough.'
"E-excuse me then. You rest. We will meet later. Remember what you said." He said to Lìngxiāo.
"Alright.. Gōngzǐ.." Lìngxiāo muttered thoughtfully as he blinked and watched him go to the balcony instead of going out through the door.
Chóng Fēi tiptoed inside and held a finger over his lips with a slight, fleeting glance at Lìngxiāo.
Lìngxiāo simply nodded silently, not questioning yet.
Chóng Fēi stood over the wooden railing. Their backyard garden looked even creepier from this side of the clan. He looked around to make sure no disciples were busy arranging talismans for safety—which barely worked.
"OI CHÓNG FĒI!" That guy yelled again, even louder.
Chóng Fēi felt his foot slip on the railing. It made his lungs squeeze too hard.
The problem wasn't that—it was the sharp, needle-like designs on the roof below.