Zhao Qi looked at Wang Dian with great interest.
Wang Dian said calmly, “Your Majesty need not consider too much.”
Although he said this, Zhao Qi still sincerely opened the letter in front of him. After reading two lines, his expression became slightly strange. He shook the envelope again, and a slightly smaller envelope fell out, with “For Zhongqing’s Eyes Only” written on it.
“I remember your courtesy name is Zhongqing, right?” Zhao Qi waved the envelope in his hand. “Emperor Liang said that when I could see you one day, I should give this letter to you, and he would surely give great reward in the future.”
Wang Dian’s face looked somewhat displeased. Firstly, it was absurd for Emperor Liang, as an emperor, to do such a thing. Secondly… he had just expressed his attitude to Zhao Qi and distanced himself from Liang Ye, yet Liang Ye immediately sent a letter over thousands of miles to show his “affection,” which was really hard not to overthink.
He suppressed the long-forgotten urge to punch Liang Ye that was welling up in his heart, and smilingly accepted the letter.
The letter contained only a few words.
[Wang Dian, my wife, as the year’s end approaches, Zhen misses you greatly and hopes for your return.]
It was in Liang Ye’s handwriting, written arrogantly and overbearingly. The word “wife” was especially emphasized with heavier ink. He could almost imagine Liang Ye’s gloomy expression as he wrote it.
This letter was written to him, but it was also written to Zhao Qi, clearly stating to Zhao Qi – this person belongs to Zhen.
Naked and straightforward, very much in line with this madman’s usual way of doing things.
Wang Dian held the thin piece of paper, his expression indiscernible. He carelessly crumpled the paper into a ball, casually threw it on the ground, and sneered, “Pretentious.”
Zhao Qi laughed heartily, “Emperor Liang is still quite devoted. Your heartlessness might incur his resentment.”
“He’s already resented me long ago. It’s a fight to the death, no need for pretense,” Wang Dian said impassively. “When do we depart?”
“Tomorrow,” Zhao Qi said, finally putting his mind at ease. “As the year’s end approaches, I also want to bring the little Imperial Uncle into the capital to celebrate the New Year.”
“Alright,” Wang Dian nodded, chatted with Zhao Qi for a while longer, and then left the gates of Zichen Palace.
He restrained his desire to go back and retrieve that letter, his face dark. The palace servants beside him cautiously looked at him, but their expressions became relieved.
It seemed this Wang Daren was quite angered by Emperor Liang.
Wang Dian felt that Liang Ye was really stingy, sending a letter from thousands of miles away, yet only writing a few words, perfunctory and malicious, making one both love and hate him.
Even so, the final destination of that letter should have been in his sleeve.
Wang Dian took a deep breath and smiled slightly at the retreating palace servants, “Thank you.”
The door closed from the inside out, and only then did his shoulders slump as he leaned against the door panel, his eyes showing a fierce look.
No matter what, his plan must proceed smoothly. Only then would he have the capital to negotiate with Liang Ye.
However, he uncontrollably raised the hand that had just held the letter paper, almost obsessively bringing it to his nose to smell, gently and devoutly kissing his fingertips, suppressing the desire that was about to surge out from the bottom of his eyes.
…It was Liang Ye’s scent.
“Ziyu,” he murmured softly, kissing his fingertips as if entranced, calling Liang Ye’s courtesy name over and over again, but finally forcing himself to move his hand away with a cold expression.
However, he quickly turned his neck nervously, took out the only remaining copper coin from his sleeve, and clenched it tightly in his palm, causing his fingers to ache from the pressure.
No matter how perfectly he had planned his escape, no matter how he had eliminated any possibility of being reminded of Liang Ye, no matter how calmly he had spoken of Liang Ye’s name countless times to others, Liang Ye could easily entangle him with just a few words and ink strokes.
Wang Dian finally realized, belatedly, that he had been desperately missing Liang Ye all along.
He missed every subtle expression of his, missed his maddening and irritating little gestures, missed the scent of his body, missed the way his lips would curl up whenever he called Wang Dian’s name… He wanted to keep Liang Ye by his side at all times, to have all the air he breathed tainted with his own scent, to have every loss of control and every moment of passion related to himself, to have Liang Ye see only Wang Dian wherever he looked.
His breathing gradually became heavy, and a bitter, bloody taste filled his mouth. He frantically opened his eyes, forcefully pried open the hand he had clenched tightly, took out the copper coin, and then found a thread he had removed from Liang Ye’s undergarment at some point from his sleeve, and tied the copper coin around his neck.
The green safety clasp, on the other hand, was carelessly thrown into his sleeve.
This copper coin was the thing Liang Ye had carried with him the longest.
He felt the cool touch of the copper coin, furrowed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, trying to clear his head, but his mind was filled with nothing but Liang Ye.
Wang Dian stood alone in a daze for a long time before slowly sighing, raising his hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, and walked to the table. He felt for the knot he had hastily tied earlier and tried to untie it for a while without success.
Never mind, it’s not like others can see it under his clothes anyway, so let it be.
****
Northern Liang.
Liang Ye sneezed several times in a row, frightening the row of kneeling palace maids and eunuchs beside him.
He suspiciously rubbed his itchy nose, and Wen Zong across from him smiled, “Has Your Majesty caught a cold?”
“Zhen is strong and healthy, the Imperial Preceptor should worry about himself,” Liang Ye said carelessly, placing a chess piece.
Familiar with his temperament, Wen Zong only said, “Has Your Majesty decided whether to really send envoys to Southern Zhao? Does Your Majesty have suitable candidates in mind?”
“The issue of joint governance of rivers and waters was raised by Wang Dian, he should have been the one to go,” Liang Ye said impassively. “Unfortunately, he has been bedridden with illness for the past two months. After much consideration, Zhen has decided to send Xu Xiude, Wen Yu, and Cui Qi.”
“…” Wen Zong was silent for a moment, seriously doubting if these three people were just made up on the spot.
Xu Xiude, the former Minister of Revenue, was glib-tongued, cowardly, and couldn’t move an inch at the sight of silver. Wen Yu was taciturn, low-ranking, and almost had no presence. Cui Qi was disabled in both legs, cold in temperament, and would never say two words if one would suffice… Sending these three people as envoys to Southern Zhao was as if they were afraid Southern Zhao wouldn’t know that their Northern Liang had no one else to use.
“Does the Imperial Preceptor have any suitable candidates?” Liang Ye placed another piece, not waiting for him to speak before saying, “The year’s end is approaching, it should be a time for family reunions. Looking at the entire court, these three are the only ones without families, making them most suitable for this diplomatic mission.”
Hearing this, Wen Zong understood that Liang Ye wasn’t asking for his opinion at all, but rather informing him of his decision. So he didn’t say anything more.
After all, compared to the current mess in the court, the joint governance of rivers and waters and sending envoys to Southern Zhao were not really big issues.
“Starting from tomorrow, the court will begin a fifteen-day holiday,” Liang Ye seemed to be in a good mood. “The Imperial Preceptor has worked hard for a year, you should have a good rest.”
The emperor starting to speak like a normal person made Wen Zong somewhat uneasy, but he really couldn’t figure out what Liang Ye was happy about. He could only smile and respond, “Your Majesty should have a good rest too.”
“Naturally,” Liang Ye nodded kindly.
After Wen Zong left, Chong Heng silently jumped down from the rafters and handed him the bundle in his hand, saying with some unease, “Master, are you really planning to go on the diplomatic mission to Southern Zhao with Cui Qi and the others?”
“The joint governance of rivers and waters is a big matter. None of those three are capable, so Zhen naturally has to go and supervise in person,” Liang Ye said. “While Zhen is away, you help Zhen review the memorials.”
Chong Heng was on the verge of tears, “I still wanted to go to Kangning Palace to see—”
“You don’t want to,” Liang Ye reached out to take the bundle, saying joyfully, “Zhen is going to bring the Empress back to the palace.”
