A suffocating sensation swept over him. Wang Dian opened his eyes with a splitting headache, the heat of the burning fire causing a dull pain in his injured leg. He did not know when he had fallen asleep again.
Immediately after, a cough made him tremble all over.
He carefully and blankly stared at Liang Ye, watching his chest heave violently from coughing. His joy was extinguished before it could even rise, crushed by pessimistic doubt.
Another dream.
Or a hallucination?
No matter how hard he pinched himself, he could always feel things clearly in his dreams, making it impossible for him to distinguish between reality and illusion.
Liang Ye coughed out a large mouthful of dark blood, his brow twisting in pain. Wang Dian could not convince himself this was real, but still uncontrollably moved to support him, wiping the blood from his chin with his sleeve.
Liang Ye lifted and curled his leg slightly, leaning on his shoulder, closing his eyes and calling his name, “…Wang Dian?”
Wang Dian dared not respond, only holding him tightly.
Liang Ye was awakened by the sticky herbal medicine’s pungent smell. He raised his hand to show Wang Dian his abrasions, saying weakly, “It hurts to death.”
Wang Dian’s entire body stiffened. He took Liang Ye’s hand and carefully blew on it.
Liang Ye squinted and smiled. The warm outer robe made him feel comfortable, and he said in puzzlement, “I’m awake… aren’t you going to be happy about it?”
Wang Dian moved his lips, his voice dry, “I don’t know.”
The voice sounded desperate and at a loss. Liang Ye felt inexplicably uncomfortable hearing it, tugging at the corner of his mouth and saying regretfully, “I thought it would be like in romance novels… you’d throw yourself at me, crying with tears like falling flowers… and we’d pour out our hearts to each other.”
“Keep dreaming,” Wang Dian muttered.
Liang Ye laughed, then accidentally pulled at his abdomen wound covered in herbal medicine, causing him to twitch in pain. Wang Dian quickly pressed him down, “Don’t move.”
“Hemostatic and detoxifying?” Liang Ye asked after a slight sniff, “Learned from Li Bu?”
Wang Dian’s breath slightly trembled, “Yes.”
“Fortunately, you were here. If it were just me—” Liang Ye started to say, but was suddenly interrupted.
“Liang Ye,” Wang Dian knelt on the ground, embracing him, and lowered his head to kiss his lips still stained with blood.
Even after walking through the gates of hell, Liang Ye was still receptive, happily accepting this passionate and abrupt kiss. Except for nearly losing his breath and almost fainting, he still felt good about himself.
Wang Dian stared at the smile on his face with bloodshot eyes, “Would you… like some water?”
Liang Ye weakly nodded. Wang Dian passed him filtered and boiled warm water, slowly feeding it to him.
After drinking, Liang Ye noticed something was off with Wang Dian’s expression. He grabbed his hand firmly, “Wang Dian, I’m not dead.”
“Mm,” Wang Dian responded hastily, placing the water bamboo tube on the ground, “I’ll go find something for you to eat.”
“Wang Dian, come back!” Liang Ye tried to sit up, which pulled at his wound and made his face turn several shades paler. However, before Wang Dian could reach out, he sat up by himself.
Wang Dian’s expression changed. He supported Liang Ye and helped him lean against the stone wall of the cave.
“You’re not dreaming right now,” Liang Ye looked at his hollow eyes and furrowed his brow, “Zhen can prove it to you.”
Wang Dian’s lips moved, and he asked with difficulty, “…How to prove?”
He almost instinctively accepted the fear of impending awakening and began to doubt; the dream would collapse.
Liang Ye grabbed his hand and spread it out in front of himself, asking seriously, “Do you remember when you said our palm lines were exactly the same?”
Wang Dian shook his head.
“Zhen remembers,” Liang Ye licked his dry lips, closing his eyes and looking pleased, “Look at the end of the middle palm line, isn’t it split into three branches?”
Wang Dian glanced at the palm, “It is.”
“Let me tell you something else you don’t know,” Liang Ye opened his eyes, squeezing his fingers firmly, smiling ambiguously, “I’m really about to die from pain, big brother. Pay a little more attention to me. If my waist is broken, I won’t be able to *** you.”
“…………” Wang Dian stared at him expressionlessly.
The Liang Ye in his dreams could indeed not be this shameless.
Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Liang Ye started to vomit blood in large mouthfuls. The tiny bit of happiness that had just risen completely vanished.
Even if this was not a dream, Liang Ye’s way of vomiting blood meant he would not live long.
Liang Ye rinsed his mouth with the water Wang Dian handed him, lying grotesquely in his arms, “Don’t worry, poison won’t kill me.”
Wang Dian remained silent.
“When Zhen was eight, Zhen was force-fed a whole bottle of crane-top red. After my master saved me, I became immune to all poisons… cough cough cough!” Liang Ye’s expression was full of pride, casually wiping the blood from his mouth, “At most… just spitting out two mouthfuls of dirty blood… cough cough!”
He spoke lightly, but Wang Dian wished he could crush him and hold him in his arms, his breath heavy and desperate.
A droplet of water fell on his herbal-covered hand.
Liang Ye lowered his eyes, staring at the water droplet for a long time, gradually losing his smile, feeling somewhat at a loss, with an inexplicable sense of grievance and sadness. His Adam’s apple moved several times, swallowing down the sourness that should not appear, “It’s okay, everything’s passed. It’s also… a blessing in disguise.”
“Liang Ye,” Wang Dian called his name with a hoarse voice.
“Yes,” Liang Ye raised his hand to rub his nose.
“Can we not be emperors anymore?” Wang Dian held him, his voice soft and calm, “Rescue Chong Heng, and I’ll take you both away.”
Liang Ye’s wounded hand grabbed his trembling hand, smiling, “Even if I agreed, would you believe?”
By now, how could they simply leave if they wanted to?
Liang Ye lifted his hand with difficulty, touched Wang Dian’s face, and tried to sound casual, “Looks like I scared you badly this time. You’re not even thinking of plotting against Zhen.”
Wang Dian stiffly pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Liang Ye couldn’t describe the taste in his heart. Looking at Wang Dian’s carefully cautious appearance with bloodshot eyes, his previous thousand calculations and hundred conquests suddenly lost all interest. He felt neither happy nor pleased, but somewhat sad and irritable, as if his heart was being ruthlessly twisted.
The idea of completely controlling Wang Dian suddenly became tasteless.
He now just wanted to hold the person, pat his back, and make him look less… heartbreaking.
He thought this and then did exactly that.
Wang Dian carefully maintained some distance, accepting the embrace, so pure it was almost absurd. Compared to his previous domineering, intense, and ambiguous hugs, this one looked even more distant because of Liang Ye’s injuries.
But it allowed the nerve that had been stretched to the breaking point to slowly, tentatively relax.
Those chaotic, bizarre dreams and illusions seemed not so bad after all.
If Liang Ye existed in the illusion, he could unwaveringly treat it as his reality.
