BLPSG Chapter 88: Take silence as a promise

Complex emotions hid beneath the darkness of his eyes.

Only Wen Qingci knew just how tangled his feelings were at this moment.

The hall was utterly silent.

Xie Bufeng lowered his gaze, staring deeply into Wen Qingci’s eyes, waiting for his answer.

Time seemed to freeze within the dim candlelight.

After an unknown stretch of silence, Wen Qingci slowly lowered his eyes.

Xie Bufeng’s breath halted.

…He was waiting for that answer.

But before he could react, Wen Qingci suddenly turned away.

Xie Bufeng’s jaw tightened instantly, a dull ache spreading through his chest.

Was Qingci still going to leave?

The thought had barely formed when he realized—

Wen Qingci wasn’t walking toward the door.

…He had turned toward another candle stand at the side of the hall, picked up a fire striker, and lit the candles.

Flames bloomed at once, spiraling up the dragon‑shaped stand.

In the blink of an eye, the entire side hall brightened.

Eyes accustomed to darkness narrowed slightly.

That slender, pale figure seemed to gain warmth in the sudden light.

His clear voice followed, drifting to Xie Bufeng’s ears as Wen Qingci said calmly, “The four steps of diagnosis—inspection, listening, inquiry, and pulse—none can be omitted. I need proper light to examine you.”

With that, he turned and lifted the medicine box he had set aside earlier.

His movements were as elegant as Xie Bufeng remembered.

A faint, familiar bitterness of herbs spread in the air.

In an instant, overwhelming joy washed away the ache in Xie Bufeng’s chest.

…Wen Qingci wasn’t leaving.

At least not tonight.

 

* * *

 

The dosage of the pills Xie Bufeng had taken was no small matter. Even if Wen Qingci wanted to help, as a “half‑made” medicinal body, his blood alone was far from enough to detoxify Xie Bufeng.

In every sense, the young emperor had left himself no retreat.

With poison still in his system, Xie Bufeng’s condition was poor…fatigue struck him often.

Once Wen Qingci got his answer, he immediately ordered Xie Bufeng to rest, slipping back into his role as imperial physician.

This time, Xie Bufeng actually listened.

When everything was finally settled, Wen Qingci walked alone down the familiar corridors of the Imperial Medical Bureau, heading toward the small courtyard.

He knew what pills Xie Bufeng had taken, but to detoxify him quickly, he needed to determine the exact proportions.

Even Wen Qingci couldn’t keep every formula perfectly memorized.

If he remembered correctly, the medical texts he brought to Yongdu should contain the records.

They should still be in his old residence…

His footsteps echoed through the empty palace path, sounding especially lonely.

But the rhythmic echoes gradually calmed his heart.

After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Wen Qingci stopped before a familiar gate and looked up at the tall magnolia tree inside.

After becoming a Hanlin scholar, he had his own residence outside the palace.

But to him, this small courtyard in the Medical Bureau had been his “home” for those years.

After a brief pause to steady himself, he carefully pushed open the gate.

…Everything remained as it had been.

The late‑summer sun was still harsh, the air dry.

A bamboo basket in the corner held herbs laid out to dry—

and judging by the arrangement, someone had turned them not long ago.

Wen Qingci hesitated. Instead of going to his bedroom first, he walked toward the side room.

The clay stove and the purple clay pot he once used to cook magnolia porridge were still there, neatly placed.

Even the porcelain jar beside them still held dried magnolia petals.

He reached out and brushed the stove with his fingertips—

not a speck of dust clung to his skin.

For a moment, he felt an illusion—

as if the warmth on the stove had not yet faded.

Stop thinking nonsense. Focus on the task!

Realizing he was drifting, Wen Qingci forced his thoughts back on track.

He stepped out of the side room and headed to the bedroom.

With a soft scrape, the wooden door opened.

Just like the courtyard, everything inside remained unchanged…

The bedding was neatly folded, the tables and chairs spotless.

As if the owner had only stepped out briefly and would return any moment.

Wen Qingci stood inside, dazed.

Had Xie Bufeng been the one maintaining all this?

Impossible. He was the emperor, how could he have time to tidy this place every day?

—The thought barely formed before Wen Qingci dismissed it himself.

His gaze swept the room and finally landed on the desk.

Remembering his purpose, he quickly walked over and began searching.

There was no ready‑made antidote for these poisons—only detoxification methods.

If Xie Bufeng had taken only one, it would be simple.

But with so many mixed together, he had to consider interactions and taboos carefully.

The candlelight illuminated the small room, softening Wen Qingci’s features.

Whenever he read medical texts, he became completely absorbed.

After finding the book that recorded the pills, Wen Qingci began writing notes, analyzing possible antidotes.

By the time he looked up, the moon was already high.

He set down his brush and stretched his wrist.

It was late—he should rest soon.

Just then, a cool late‑summer breeze drifted through the window, brushing his uncovered cheek and stirring his dark hair.

His gaze drifted outside—

He had only meant to glance casually, but instead he saw—

Xie Bufeng, dressed in dark robes, carrying a lantern, walking slowly into the courtyard.

Their eyes met.

“…Your Majesty?” Wen Qingci blurted out, quickly looking away.

Wait…what was Xie Bufeng doing here in the middle of the night?

The courtyard wasn’t large. With his long stride, Xie Bufeng crossed it in a few steps.

Before Wen Qingci could think, Xie Bufeng extinguished the lantern and hung it outside the door.

Only then did Wen Qingci remember what the young physician in Lianhe had told him—

Xie Bufeng still lived in his old residence.

So… he came here to sleep!

They had been roommates for quite some time before.

But that was nothing like today.

Back then, Xie Bufeng had been a boy.

Now he was grown—

and had said those things to him.

Once his attention left the medical texts, Xie Bufeng’s whispered confession echoed again in Wen Qingci’s heart.

Like a stone sinking into a cold lake.

The quiet night magnified the tension in the room.

He had lived here for years.

Yet only now did Wen Qingci realize—

this bedroom was very small.

He instinctively stepped back half a pace, forcing himself to sound calm as he said, “Your Majesty isn’t returning to the palace tonight?”

His mind was a storm, but he kept his face composed.

Unlike him, Xie Bufeng’s tone was steady, as if simply answering a question.

“This has been my residence for the past year.”

He paused, then added, “…I did not move into Yiguang Hall. And Yuguang Palace has long been uninhabited—still in ruins.”

His voice was low, slightly hoarse.

It carried a quiet, convincing weight.

Yiguang Hall was the traditional sleeping quarters of emperors.

The deposed emperor Xie Zhao had lived there before his death, and the coup had erupted outside its doors—

an ill‑omened place.

It made sense Xie Bufeng avoided it.

And Yuguang Palace had been dilapidated for years….barely suitable for a prince, let alone an emperor.

Wen Qingci nodded, a faint heaviness settling in his chest.

How had he not known that His Majesty the Emperor lived such a “miserable” life?

Everyone in Taishu Palace knew that Xie Bufeng had turned the former Imperial Medical Bureau into his residence.

For the moment, Wen Qingci truly had no grounds to righteously “evict” the emperor from here.

As for himself—

As a “dead man,” he certainly couldn’t wander around Taishu Palace in the middle of the night looking for a place to sleep.

Seeing Xie Bufeng standing here with perfect confidence, pretending not to understand anything—

Wen Qingci simply decided to pretend nothing had happened and give up resisting.

It was just being roommates, wasn’t it?

What was there to be afraid of.

“All right,” Wen Qingci forced himself to smile politely, “Your Majesty, please make yourself comfortable.”

With that, he immediately slipped behind the screen.

Because of this, he didn’t see the faint smile that tugged at Xie Bufeng’s lips the moment those words fell.

The carriage had been slow during the day.

But after several days of travel, Wen Qingci…despite his unease…fell asleep quickly.

Xie Bufeng, who had just rested earlier, was the complete opposite.

The wooden window was slightly open, letting in a cool summer breeze.

It thinned the faint bitterness of herbs lingering in the room.

Wen Qingci always slept quietly, never making a sound.

Even after exhausting travel, once asleep he was so still that even his breathing was hard to detect.

Now, with the herbal scent fading—

And no cicadas in the summer night—

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

Just like the hundreds of nights before.

A sudden unease rose in Xie Bufeng’s chest…

Was Wen Qingci truly here beside him?

The moment the thought surfaced, his heart thudded violently, as if ready to burst from his chest.

He had seen Wen Qingci just hours ago—

had even held him in his arms.

Yet now, Xie Bufeng couldn’t help but doubt—

Perhaps everything earlier had been a dream.

Perhaps Wen Qingci had never returned to Yongdu.

Or perhaps, after hearing those words, he had left again.

The man on the bed slowly opened his eyes.

His amber gaze looked especially cold.

Holding his breath, Xie Bufeng rose carefully and walked toward the screen.

…Moonlight slipped through the window, falling through the bed curtains onto Wen Qingci’s face.

It illuminated his skin, pale to the point of translucence.

Only after confirming it wasn’t a dream did Xie Bufeng’s heart finally settle.

 

* * *

 

By now, the Imperial Medical Bureau had long been relocated.

For nearly a year, Xie Bufeng had handled state affairs here.

Thus, the surrounding halls no longer held herbs, and all decoction tools had been moved away.

The next morning, Wen Qingci prepared the first prescription and immediately sent someone to deliver it to the new Medical Bureau.

Two hours later, a physician arrived with the decocted medicine.

By coincidence, it was someone Wen Qingci knew.

He was the one who had told Wen Qingci about Xie Bufeng and that “old acquaintance” back in Lianhe.

Seeing Wen Qingci, the young physician’s eyes widened.

He set the medicine on the table, then glanced nervously toward the servants outside before whispering, “H‑how did you get into the palace?”

When he saw the prescription earlier, he had already suspected something.

The heavy dosage and dangerous formula—

it looked exactly like the work of that colleague from Songxiu Prefecture.

Now, seeing the familiar figure and the veiled hat, countless thoughts exploded in his mind.

But in the end, he could only ask indirectly, “So… you know the inspector’s true identity now, right?”

Herbal decoction was complex. As he spoke, Wen Qingci lifted the bowl, examining the color to judge the quality.

At the question, his hand paused. “I know.”

It was the only answer he could give.

He immediately changed the subject: “Today’s decoction is slightly under‑reduced. Tomorrow, simmer it for an extra cup of tea’s time. Thank you.”

“Y‑yes, yes, I’ll remember!”

But instead of leaving, the young physician leaned closer and whispered, “Then you must know who I meant by ‘late wife,’ right?”

The story of Xie Bufeng and “Physician Wen Qingci” had spread across the entire capital.

If he said he didn’t know, no one would believe him.

With no choice, Wen Qingci deflected, “…If I recall correctly, you said that person was a man?”

He was trying to correct the term “late wife.”

But the young physician misunderstood completely.

“Yes, yes,” he nodded vigorously, lowering his voice. “You both know medicine, your builds are similar, and even your temperaments feel alike.”

Seeing Wen Qingci appear in Taishu Palace, he finally took a deep breath and said what he hadn’t dared say before:

“To be honest, I think His Majesty must see that person’s shadow in you.”

His tone rose and fell dramatically—

he was one step away from outright saying Xie Bufeng treated Wen Qingci as a substitute.

“His Majesty loved that physician more deeply than anyone,” he warned earnestly, “You must remember that.”

Wen Qingci: “…”

How was he supposed to respond to that?

Seeing him silent, the young physician grew anxious. “I’m not joking!”

“I heard that after people learned His Majesty’s beloved was a man, some young nobles tried approaching him. Not only did they fail, they nearly lost their lives—and dragged their families down with them. His Majesty already has someone in his heart. If he treats you differently, it’s only because of that physician.”

He leaned in again. “Do you understand?”

Hidden by the veil, he didn’t see Wen Qingci’s expression shift dramatically.

Afraid the man would keep rambling, Wen Qingci gritted out, “…I understand.”

“Good, good! Then I’ll return to the Medical Bureau. I’ll decoct tomorrow’s medicine as you instructed.”

With that, he fled.

The freshly brewed medicine was still steaming.

Heat seeped through the porcelain, burning Wen Qingci’s fingertips.

Only when his skin reddened did he snap out of his daze and set the bowl down.

Even then, the tips of his ears remained faintly red.

 

* * *

 

After returning to the palace, Xie Bufeng…who had been exhausted for days…finally handed the memorials back to Xie Guanzhi.

Though still ill, he had to handle numerous affairs daily.

From what Wen Qingci knew, Xie Bufeng had been working in the side hall of the Medical Bureau.

But once Wen Qingci returned, the emperor moved all his work into the bedroom.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The decocted medicine sat cooling on the table.

The faint bitterness drifted through the room like a thin ribbon.

Wen Qingci sat at the desk reading medical texts, while Xie Bufeng reviewed memorials on the bed.

Then, a suppressed cough sounded beside him.

Wen Qingci’s brush paused. He turned instinctively toward the bed.

Xie Bufeng’s hand was clenched tightly over his chest, brows furrowed—

the poison was acting up.

Wen Qingci wanted to say he had brought this upon himself, but seeing his expression, his heart tightened.

He hurried over and lifted the bowl.

“Your Majesty, the medicine has cooled. You should drink it now.”

As he spoke, he suddenly remembered something and glanced toward his medicine box.

If he wasn’t mistaken, he still had some honey left.

Wen Qingci had never drunk a single dose of medicine himself.

But he knew the herbs he prescribed were unbearably bitter—

nearly impossible to swallow.

“Wait a moment. This medicine is bitter — I’ll get something to help.”

Wen Qingci turned, intending to fetch sugar from his medicine box.

But before he could move, Xie Bufeng suddenly reached out and closed his fingers tightly around Wen Qingci’s wrist.

His body temperature was slightly high from the poison.

The moment his fingertips touched Wen Qingci’s skin, Wen Qingci’s hand trembled as if burned.

The porcelain bowl shook, rippling the surface of the medicine.

“No need,” Xie Bufeng said quietly.

And as he spoke, he lifted Wen Qingci’s wrist — and drank the entire bowl of medicine in one motion.

He didn’t even frown, as if he couldn’t taste the bitterness at all.

A few seconds passed.

Wen Qingci tugged lightly, trying to free his wrist. “Your Majesty, please let go. I need to set the bowl down.”

Xie Bufeng didn’t answer.

He simply took the bowl with his other hand and placed it on the small table piled with memorials beside the bed.

“What happened to your palm?” he asked suddenly, his expression turning serious.

My palm?

Wen Qingci froze, then followed Xie Bufeng’s gaze.

Not only his fingertips…even the skin between his thumb and forefinger was reddened.

“…The bowl was hot. I didn’t notice when I picked it up.”

For some reason, Wen Qingci’s voice had gone slightly hoarse.

Xie Bufeng said nothing.

It was unclear whether he had heard the explanation.

He simply lowered his head—

And pressed a gentle kiss to Wen Qingci’s reddened fingertips.

His movements were careful.

Almost reverent.

A faint breath brushed across Wen Qingci’s skin.

It was a kiss without any improper intent—

Yet Wen Qingci’s body trembled.

—A faint current seemed to spark at his fingertips, running through his nerves and down to his bones.

Xie Bufeng’s long hair fell forward with the motion, hiding his cold eyes.

Only after kissing each of Wen Qingci’s fingers did he finally release his wrist.

But before Wen Qingci could retreat, Xie Bufeng’s face suddenly drained of color.

His brows tightened sharply.

Wen Qingci’s prescription used heavy ingredients and all medicine carried some poison.

Not long after drinking it, Xie Bufeng’s heart seized with pain again.

“Your Majesty, how do you feel?” Wen Qingci asked quickly. “I’ll get you something for the pain.”

Xie Bufeng had never felt pain before. Wen Qingci wasn’t sure whether he experienced it like ordinary people or whether he had adapted to a world where pain existed.

“No need. It’s not serious.”

His low voice brushed past Wen Qingci’s ear.

Seeing he was still pretending, Wen Qingci’s tone cooled. “So His Majesty truly isn’t afraid of poison. In that case, I won’t hold back with the next dose.”

He had already made this one a “milder version” to avoid severe reactions.

But seeing Xie Bufeng like this…

Perhaps he should let him taste the full bitterness.

“Qingci… are you angry?”

Before Wen Qingci could react, Xie Bufeng suddenly rose and pulled him into his arms.

Even sick, he held Wen Qingci effortlessly, leaving him unable to move.

His slightly curled hair brushed Wen Qingci’s cheek.

A faint tickle followed.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Wen Qingci said stiffly, bracing a hand against Xie Bufeng’s arm, trying to push him away.

But his strength was no match for the man behind him — taller by more than a head.

His tone was sharp.

No one in court had ever spoken to Xie Bufeng like this.

Yet hearing it, Xie Bufeng only let out a soft laugh.

A storm had passed recently.

The cicadas had gone silent.

The room was utterly still.

In Wen Qingci’s ears, only Xie Bufeng’s strained breathing remained.

After a long silence, Xie Bufeng finally leaned close and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Only then did Wen Qingci realize…Xie Bufeng’s arms were trembling from the pain.

Slowly, Xie Bufeng loosened his grip, then wrapped his arms around Wen Qingci from behind.

His voice was a quiet plea: “Don’t go. Let me hold you for a while… please?”

Every word was cautious.

Then he closed his eyes.

Wen Qingci’s hand…the one pushing against Xie Bufeng’s arm…paused.

And slowly lowered.

To Xie Bufeng, the antidote wasn’t the bowl he had just swallowed.

It was the person in his arms.

His nose brushed lightly against Wen Qingci’s neck.

He took the silence as permission.

And finally, without restraint, breathed in the bitter scent he had longed for.