Chapter 60

“Ning Shiting secretly, sorrowfully opened his eyes.”

The bed canopy inside the Fragrant Pavilion was white, layer upon gossamer layer enclosing the space. From the outside, one could only make out faint, indistinct shadows.

Beside the bed, a small incense burner glowed softly, emitting a calming and mind-clearing fragrance—one that Ning Shiting often used before sleep to ward off nightmares.

Gu Tingshuang, however, found the scent overwhelming—not cloying, but so pervasive that it seemed to consume the entire world around him, wrapping him completely in the fragrance of Ning Shiting.

He’d smelled it before, but only outdoors, where the scent dissipated on the breeze, never as concentrated or as present as it was now. The bedding, the pillows, and even Ning Shiting’s silver-white hair were steeped in that warm, gentle fragrance.

The clean, subtle aroma hung in the air, unable to escape. As it lingered, it softened, flowing faintly at the tip of his nose until it was almost imperceptible.

Gu Tingshuang’s night vision wasn’t good. Through the faint light of a lamp placed on the distant table, he could barely make out the dim outline of Ning Shiting’s figure. The Jiaoren lay in his arms, on his side, feigning sleep. His long, silver hair spilt behind him, tangled and resting just in front of Gu Tingshuang’s eyes.

This close, this tightly nestled together, Gu Tingshuang could feel Ning Shiting’s nervous tension. That bout of playful mischief that he felt in his chest earlier began to rekindle with a spark.

He found Ning Shiting’s dishevelled hair an eyesore. Stretching out a hand, he began tidying it, smoothing and arranging the strands. The Jiaoren’s hair was soft and fine, but not fragile. Silky like satin, it slid through his fingers with a beautiful lustre. Gu Tingshuang couldn’t help but muse that despite Ning Shiting being a venomous Jiaoren, his hair was entirely harmless.

Perhaps his eyelashes weren’t venomous either.

Ning Shiting’s eyelashes were long and black, soft as feathers. When his eyes were closed, the lashes cast a faint shadow on his cheeks.

Amused, Gu Tingshuang toyed with the strands of hair, finding some joy in the act. Meanwhile, Ning Shiting, though utterly still, and held his breath—identical to genuine sleep.

Ning Shiting truly had no way to deal with Gu Tingshuang. The approaching noises from outside grew closer and closer, leaving him no opportunity to turn back and quietly scold the young man. Whatever Gu Tingshuang wanted to do, he simply let it happen in silence. Yet, the youth's actions left him a little on edge. Those slender fingers danced around the back of his head, coming dangerously close to touching his skin several times.

In response, Ning Shiting shifted slightly, pulling his collar higher and tucking his head inward.

Then he heard Gu Tingshuang's low, muffled chuckle.

Clearly, Ning Shiting was the one cornered against the bed's edge, yet it felt as if Gu Tingshuang had him thoroughly in check. Half-dazed, Ning Shiting couldn’t even muster the clarity to question why Gu Tingshuang had come looking for him in the depths of the night.

The subtle movements between them continued, but Ning Shiting finally had enough of Gu Tingshuang’s antics. Catching a moment when the latter withdrew his hand, Ning Shiting's wrist darted back with precision, gripping Gu Tingshuang’s wrist firmly to stop his meddling.

This time, Gu Tingshuang truly froze.

The clang of weapons grew louder, and both of them, with their keen hearing, could clearly discern the sound drawing closer to the courtyard outside. Once in the courtyard, the intruders seemed to hesitate, possibly unfamiliar with the layout of the Fragrant Pavilion, and began pacing near the door.

Gu Tingshuang heard a deep, unfamiliar male voice ring out, calm and low: "Where is Ning Shiting?"

The voice carried an unmistakable air of authority, a commanding tone that brooked no resistance. It wasn’t just the name itself but the way it was spoken—a clear declaration that Ning Shiting belonged to him, was under his control. It was the same tone Gu Tingshuang himself used when calling for the Little Wolf.

For some reason, this realisation made Gu Tingshuangvery uncomfortable. The very notion that someone else could so confidently claim Ning Shiting as their own left him deeply unsettled. As the voice echoed in the room, Gu Tingshuang instinctively released his spiritual awareness. The scope of his perception expanded in an instant, and he immediately grasped the emotions lingering within Ning Shiting.

It wasn’t fear, nor was it excitement. Instead, it was an inscrutable kind of...indifference. Beneath that indifference, however, lay a tightly coiled sense of repression.

Outside the Fragrant Pavilion, a tall, stoic man dismounted briskly and strode toward the inner chamber. Hulu, the elderly servant on night duty, followed closely behind.

The stillness of the late night was broken only by Hulu’s cautious inquiry:

“Wangye, would you like me to rouse the household? The Gongzi has been unwell these past days and usually retires early.”

As they entered the room, the lights illuminated the space, and for the first time, Gu Tingshuang got a clear look at Gu Feiyin’s face through his spiritual awareness.

The man waved off Hulu’s suggestion, casually picking up a teacup from the table. He took a sip, then glanced at the plate of pastries before him, frowning slightly before shifting his gaze away.

This was Gu Tingshuang’s father—a figure entirely absent from his memories.

The man was tall and stalwart, his features sharp and handsome. Beneath his refined appearance lurked a hint of arrogance and danger, reminiscent of the renowned valiant general described in legends. He radiated an aura of authority, commanding respect and distance merely by sitting there. It was no wonder he could capture the hearts of noble sons and daughters alike.

“Unwell? What’s wrong with him?”

“The Gongzi master has been preoccupied with the winter snows in Dongzhou. The physician advised he rest quietly. Right now, he’s…”

“I’ll go see him.” Gu Feiyin set down the teacup with a crisp clink, his expression cold and impatient.

Gu Tingshuang withdrew his spiritual awareness, shifting his focus back to the room. When he turned his attention to Ning Shiting, he noticed a significant change.

The Jiaoren’s body had grown colder, his breathing faint to the point of being nearly imperceptible. It seemed as though… he would die.

Startled, Gu Tingshuang instinctively tightened his grip on Ning Shiting’s hand. Pressing through a thin layer of fabric, he tried to feel his pulse but found none. He switched to spiritual vision and discovered that Ning Shiting had suppressed his aura. Fortunately, his inner flame—the life force of the Jiaoren—still flickered.

Relieved, Gu Tingshuang exhaled softly.

The sound of the door opening broke the silence. A foreign presence seeped into the room.

The man’s figure loomed behind the bed curtains, casting a shadow that obscured much of the light.

Then, the drapes were gently parted, allowing a cool breeze to filter in, dispersing the warm air inside.

Gu Feiyin leaned closer, his shadow dominating the space as he inspected Ning Shiting.

The Jiaoren’s sickly pallor, tinged with blue, made him appear as fragile as his reputation suggested. Under the moonlight, he seemed barely alive, a clear indication that his condition was too severe for him to receive guests.

Although Ning Shiting had suppressed his aura, he must have retained some awareness, as Gu Tingshuang sensed the subtle tension in his body.

In response, Gu Tingshuang tightened his arm around Ning Shiting’s waist, his other hand shifting slightly. A dagger slid from his sleeve, its hilt resting at his fingertips, ready to spring forth and end the life of the intruder if necessary.

If Gu Feiyin dared to act rashly, Gu Tingshuang wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

Moments passed in silence.

Eventually, the bed curtain fell back into place, and Gu Feiyin withdrew. He seemed disinclined to linger, walking out of the room with only a brief instruction to Hulu: “Have him come see me when he wakes.”

Hulu bowed. “Yes, if the Gongzi is able to wake, certainly the Gongzi will be told.”

Gu Feiyin paused. “What’s that wheelchair doing in the room? Has he become so ill he can’t walk now?”

If that were the case, Ning Shiting’s value would have to be reevaluated. His lack of cultivation already made him a liability in a celestial army. If he also became immobile, he would be more of a burden than ever.

However, that would also mean Ning Shiting posed less of a threat to Gu Feiyin.

Hulu, caught off guard, had no idea why a wheelchair was in Ning Shiting’s room in the middle of the night. After all, it belonged to Dianxia Shizi, not Ning Shiting.(1) Nonetheless, he composed himself quickly and fabricated an explanation: “It’s not for the Gongzi. The Shizi’s wheelchair was damaged, so it was sent here for repairs.”

“Oh… him., ah” Gu Feiyin hesitated as if only just recalling he had a disabled son. “Don’t bring anything unsightly into the master’s quarters again. Such a rotten, dirty thing is an eyesore.”

Ning Shiting secretly, sorrowfully opened his eyes.

Sensing the surge of killing intent and icy resolve emanating from Gu Tingshuang, Ning Shiting reached back to gently pat his wrist in a soothing gesture.

Gu Tingshuang whispered, “Can we talk now?”

Before he could finish, Ning Shiting turned over and lightly covered his mouth with a sleeve. He mouthed with some urgency: Your father’s hearing is no worse than ours. Wait until I say it’s safe to speak.

Gu Tingshuang, who had been radiating cold impatience, found himself stifling a laugh at Ning Shiting’s cautious demeanour.

The soft Jiaoren now lay face-to-face with him, their foreheads nearly touching. His silvery hair, once neat and orderly, was now a disheveled mess, completely undermining his usual composed image.

He looked like a mischievous child sneaking behind an adult’s back—or perhaps they both did. They were partners in crime, bound by an unspoken agreement to hide a shared secret.

Ning Shiting’s eyes remained luminous in the dim light, calm and gentle like a serene lake. In their depths, Gu Tingshuang saw only his own reflection.

After a brief silence, Gu Tingshuang reached out, taking Ning Shiting’s hand in his. Through the thin blanket, he traced a message onto his palm: What now?

Ning Shiting responded in kind, writing back softly: Sleep. I’ll wake you at dawn.

The sensation of fingers tracing across his palm, delicate and light, sent a faint tingling down Gu Tingshuang’s spine.

Foot Notes

1. He thinks “柿子” (shizi), “Persimmon” here, not the title 世子 (shizi).