Duan Ling has nowhere left to hide; there’s even a lantern hanging on the wall, casting its glow onto his face.
Lang Junxia is watching Duan Ling with an exceedingly complicated look in his eyes, but Duan Ling is already too preoccupied to pore over any emotion they may be revealing.
They stand there face to face like stone statues for what seems like a million years, yet it feels just as much like the briefest of moments.
“What is it?” Wu Du breaks the silence.
“I saw a carriage from the chancellor’s estate earlier.” Lang Junxia says, “I didn’t get a good look, but someone from the estate must have been there. His Highness asked me to turn back and bring this to your attention. If anyone asks you about it tomorrow, there’s no need to conceal the meeting. Just tell them exactly what happened.”
“I got it,” Wu Du says.
Lang Junxia scrutinises Duan Ling as though he wants to say something, but in the end he holds his tongue. Wu Du nods at him, and the carriage in front of them rolls away, gradually growing distant.
“He saw you anyway,” Wu Du says.
“No time like the present,” Duan Ling replies.2
This day has finally come, and it has come so fast that he’s taken entirely by surprise; Duan Ling is far from ready, but everything is written in the stars. He is no longer afraid.
You’re the one who should be afraid. Just you wait. As long as I’m not dead, you’re never going to have any peace.
A dull clap of thunder resounds across the sky, and a heavy rain begins to pour without any warning. Duan Ling and Wu Du are both thoroughly soaked, running home like a couple of drowned hens, their clothes wet from stepping into puddles all the way back. Wu Du calls out several times, and Duan Ling yells back, “What did you say?!”
Lest Duan Ling gets his new clothes dirty, Wu Du quickly picks him up sideways and dashes into the house.
The lanterns are lit, and their glow fills the room with warmth. When Duan Ling watches the rainstorm raging outside, he feels as though he’s come back to a secured, walled city surrounded by a moat. This nation is occupied by only Wu Du and himself, but as long as he remains here no one can ever hurt him.
Lang Junxia knows he’s still alive now, but he won’t ever let that fact slip. Otherwise, both he and that fake crown prince he’s single-handedly pushed onto the heir’s position are going to die a horrible, painful death. Going by the laws of Great Chen, at the very least they’ll be sentenced to is the death of three thousand cuts.3
The only thing Lang Junxia can do is assassinate him in secret, but no one can brazenly come to the grand chancellor’s estate to commit murder. It’s taken Duan Ling this long to understand that his father’s mastery of the martial arts was downright unparalleled, and that’s judging by nothing other than the night he saved Batu and Jochi alone; the way he infiltrated and escaped a heavily guarded mansion, it was like no one was guarding it at all.
That’s not something Lang Junxia can do. Besides, it’s not like he can leave the palace often. But from this moment on, he must make sure he’s always by Wu Du’s side, and he mustn’t ever leave him.
Lang Junxia wouldn’t make the attempt lightly. Otherwise, once he put Mu Kuangda on alert, the implications of such an act can only lead to more trouble — whatever could make the crown prince’s personal bodyguard come kill a nameless young man for no discernable reason at all? There has to be something more to it. If he makes Mu Kuangda suspicious, it will have deadly consequences.
Duan Ling mustn’t let anyone know either. After all, he has no idea whether Mu Kuangda is friend or foe yet. From the current state of affairs, he’s more likely a foe and less so a friend.
Sometimes he finds it both frustrating and hilarious that this is the manner in which he’s managed to find some kind of balance. It’s as though they’re both walking on tightropes over a bottomless chasm, and any false move will inevitably lead to certain death.
He cannot help but turn to stare at Wu Du, thinking about how he’s going to find some way to stay at his side every moment of the day, and not to separate from him.
Wu Du has quickly changed into a pair of dry pants as soon as they got back, leaving his leanly muscular back and shoulders uncovered, and now he’s pulling each drawer open one by one to put together a hot medicinal drink for preventing colds. He tosses several slices of dried ginger into the pot, adding some brown sugar, and in his search he’s even managed to find some sweet osmanthus. Duan Ling watches him intently, and when Wu Du turns around, their eyes meet, and it makes Wu Du feel a bit self-conscious.
“What are you looking at? You’re downright leering.”
Duan Ling’s expression turns into quite the picture when he hears this; before Wu Du said something, Duan Ling wasn’t thinking anything of the sort, but now that he’s mentioned it, he does find Wu Du’s physique rather nice to look at, tight and muscular like a panther.
“If someone wants to kill me …” Duan Ling says.
Wu Du stares at Duan Ling like he’s just heard something utterly fantastical. He puts the lid on the pot and walks over to check Duan Ling’s forehead with the back of his hand. Duan Ling slaps it away.
“I have a suspicion that man wants to kill me. Did you notice the way he was looking at me earlier ? After all, today I … I found out too much.”
“As if. Wuluohou Mu have got better things to do than to try anything with you.” Wu Du says impatiently, “He wouldn’t dare come mess with me.”
Duan Ling asks probingly, “But what if?”
Wu Du considers Duan Ling with an odd look on his face. “There’s no ‘what if’. Even if he wants to kill you to keep what they said from getting out, I’ll be able to notice if he takes so much as a single step into this courtyard house. And besides, he’s already seen you with me, naturally he’s going to think you’re mine. What’d he try to kill you for?”
“But it’s raining so hard outside that it hides the sound of footsteps.”
“Are you quite done?” Wu Du says testily.
Duan Ling can only stop talking then. Wu Du thinks Duan Ling’s just not all there today, and once the ginger tea is ready he tells him to drink it already, and to go to bed as soon as he’s done, to stop prattling on.
Duan Ling asks, “Can I sleep with you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean I’ll sleep in a little corner just below your bed.”
“Careful you end up trampled to death when I get up to drink water in the middle of the night.”
Duan Ling can only stop talking then.
After he drinks his ginger tea, Wu Du puts his bowl aside, and on realising that Duan Ling has moved his bedding next to the bed, a look of puzzlement comes over his face.
“What on earth are you trying to do?”
Duan Ling is nearly compelled to tell Wu Du the truth right then, but he’s worried that Wu Du won’t believe him. And even if he does believe him, whether or not he’ll sell him out is another problem altogether — even though he thinks Wu Du wouldn’t.
Of course, he also once thought that Lang Junxia wouldn’t.
“I’m scared that he’ll jump in through the window and kill me.” Duan Ling points at the window near the corner.
Wu Du stares at him wordlessly for a beat before saying, “Wuluohou Mu, Zheng Yan, Chang Liujun, none of them would have the gall to barge into my room without my permission. If anyone can take a single step into this room and so much as touch you, I’ll immediately hand my head over.”
Duan Ling looks into Wu Du’s eyes and says, “But you’re going to sleep soon.”
Wu Du says impatiently, “I’m going to sleep! That doesn’t mean I’ll be dead!”
Duan Ling just stares at him.
Wu Du is finding Duan Ling entirely baffling at this point. Ever since they stepped out of the room at the Bouquet Pavilion he’s noticed that Duan Ling hasn’t been himself, and after a short period of normalcy he’s once again beset by paranoia, dreading that someone wants to kill him.
“Can you feel what’s happening around you when you’re asleep?” Duan Ling asks.
Wu Du stares right at Duan Ling and asks, “Why don’t I make you a bowl of decoction that’ll calm your head down? Have you gone nuts?”
Duan Ling waves this idea off at once and lies down, and finally Wu Du flicks a finger towards the lamp, sending a gust of wind at it to put out the light. Even though he doesn’t want to bother with Duan Ling, he doesn’t make him move the bedding he’s relocated next to his bed either, and goes to sleep with things as they are.
Duan Ling lies in his bedding for a while. He can hear Wu Du’s breathing evening out, falling into deep sleep.
Outside, the sound of the elements has gradually lessened.
Can Wu Du really feel what’s going on around him? Carefully, Duan Ling gets up, and when Wu Du doesn’t react to this at all, he suddenly chops a hand toward Wu Du’s neck. But Wu Du has moved even quicker than he has, and in his sleep he blocks the attack with one arm. While his left hand blocks, his right hand cuts across, wrapping itself around Duan Ling’s throat.
Duan Ling is speechless.
“Are you crazy?!” Wu Du says angrily.
“Alright alright alright,” Duan Ling hasten to say, “I’m going to sleep.”
Wu Du turns over, sits up, and pulls Duan Ling up to sit on his bed. He asks, baffled, “What on earth’s the matter with you today?”
“I just feel like I heard too many things I shouldn’t have heard today … I’m scared that I’ll be killed … by that guy named Wu … something.”
“Impossible.” Wu Du is simply exasperated now, repeatedly emphasising to Duan Ling that it’s impossible.
Duan Ling nods, but Wu Du has noticed that Duan Ling really is worried from the solemn look in his eyes. Try as he may, Wu Du realises that he seems unable to dispel Duan Ling’s qualms. He gives this a bit of thought and tries a different approach, and no longer stresses the fact that Wuluohou Mu wouldn’t kill him. Instead, he asks Duan Ling, “Do you trust my fighting skills?”
Duan Ling replies, “I do.”
Wu Du ruminates for a moment before adding, “Weren’t you not afraid to die? When did you start cherishing life so much?”
Now Duan Ling is finding that a bit odd as well. Wasn’t he not afraid to die? Why is he so afraid now?
“I wasn’t afraid to die.” Duan Ling thinks about this, then tells Wu Du earnestly, “That was because I thought I was all alone in the world. And now I’m afraid to die, that’s because … yeah, I feel like there’s things in my life to look forward to still.”
“What’s there to look forward to?”
Duan Ling stares at Wu Du, and he suddenly finds all of it rather funny. He turns away, and laying down on the floor next to Wu Du’s bed, goes to sleep.
Wu Du falls quiet. He cranes his neck down to glance at Duan Ling. Duan Ling has curled up on the floor, and he doesn’t try to make more conversation.
“Hey,” Wu Du says.
“Hmm?”
Wu Du doesn’t continue the conversation either. He lets out a long breath and lies back on his bed. The silence stretches between them. A long time passes, and while Duan Ling’s mind is still wandering, Wu Du reaches a hand down from the bed and snaps his fingers with a clean, crisp sound in front of Duan Ling’s face.
“You just keep this in mind then,” Wu Du says, “I was the one who saved your life. And aside from me, no one can take it away.”
With a smile lingering at the corner of Duan Ling’s mouth, rather strangely, he falls asleep in no time at all.
Tonight the wind is strong and the rain has come both violent and swift. As though fished out of the water, Lang Junxia drips through the galleries outside the Eastern Palace4 on his way back to his quarters to change his clothes. He unties the Buddhist prayer beads wrapped around his wrist, and looks down at the blood stains on the beads.
“Lord Wuluohou Mu, His Highness would like to see you,” the maid says quietly.
“He hasn’t gone to bed yet?” Lang Junxia says.
The maid leads the way ahead of him with a lantern. Outside, thunder rumbles on endlessly.
Cai Yan is sitting against the headboard with his clothes still on, and when Lang Junxia enters the room, he turns his gaze on him.
“Why were you gone so long?” Cai Yan asks.
Lang Junxia thinks for a moment. “I was reminiscing and thus watched the rain for a time.”
Cai Yan asks, “What did you say to him?”
“I said exactly what you asked me to say.” Holding that string of prayer beads, Lang Junxia seems a bit preoccupied.
Cai Yan realises that he isn’t quite right this evening, and frowns. “What is it?”
Lang Junxia raises a questioning eyebrow and stares at Cai Yan.
Cai Yan asks, “Did you see Mu Kuangda?”
“I didn’t. Wu Du was the only one I saw along the way.”
Cai Yan nods, and doesn’t ask any more. The memorial regarding the relocation of the capital is spread on top of the desk, with a shock of red ink from his amendment.
“Once the move is approved, you’ll be gone,” Cai Yan says.
Twirling the prayer beads around his fingers, Lang Junxia slides one bead over a knuckle.
“I suddenly realised that things are not settled here as of yet. So I won’t be leaving, for now.”
Cai Yan is quite surprised to hear such an answer. The furrow between his brows finally grows a little shallower, and a colour of vitality returns to his cheeks. He nods, and says, “That’s good … That’s very good.”
“It’s getting late. Get some sleep, Your Highness.”
He does not bow after he says this, and simply turns to go. Cai Yan is still mumbling to himself, “Very good. He’s finally going to stay.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
The text only did a half quote, but the full original quote goes “better a day left to chance than an auspicious day by the almanac; better today than a day left to chance”, so, no day like today, or the English no time like the present. ↩︎
The literal translation of the punishment 凌遲 is “the lingering death”, often translated to the "death of a thousand cuts’’, but according to the historic texts it’s anywhere between a hundred cuts in 20 minutes to three days and 3,600 cuts, depending on the dynasty. In fiction, the writers almost always choose to pick the version that’s 3,600 cuts. ↩︎
The Eastern Palace is a word that sometimes mean a place and sometimes is just another way to refer to the crown prince. This has spread to other East Asian imperial families. The Japanese residence for the crown prince is also referred to as the eastern palace. ↩︎
Duan Ling has nowhere left to hide; there’s even a lantern hanging on the wall, casting its glow onto his face.
Lang Junxia is watching Duan Ling with an exceedingly complicated look in his eyes, but Duan Ling is already too preoccupied to pore over any emotion they may be revealing.
They stand there face to face like stone statues for what seems like a million years, yet it feels just as much like the briefest of moments.
“What is it?” Wu Du breaks the silence.
“I saw a carriage from the chancellor’s estate earlier.” Lang Junxia says, “I didn’t get a good look, but someone from the estate must have been there. His Highness asked me to turn back and bring this to your attention. If anyone asks you about it tomorrow, there’s no need to conceal the meeting. Just tell them exactly what happened.”
“I got it,” Wu Du says.
Lang Junxia scrutinises Duan Ling as though he wants to say something, but in the end he holds his tongue. Wu Du nods at him, and the carriage in front of them rolls away, gradually growing distant.
“He saw you anyway,” Wu Du says.
“No time like the present,” Duan Ling replies.2
This day has finally come, and it has come so fast that he’s taken entirely by surprise; Duan Ling is far from ready, but everything is written in the stars. He is no longer afraid.
You’re the one who should be afraid. Just you wait. As long as I’m not dead, you’re never going to have any peace.
A dull clap of thunder resounds across the sky, and a heavy rain begins to pour without any warning. Duan Ling and Wu Du are both thoroughly soaked, running home like a couple of drowned hens, their clothes wet from stepping into puddles all the way back. Wu Du calls out several times, and Duan Ling yells back, “What did you say?!”
Lest Duan Ling gets his new clothes dirty, Wu Du quickly picks him up sideways and dashes into the house.
The lanterns are lit, and their glow fills the room with warmth. When Duan Ling watches the rainstorm raging outside, he feels as though he’s come back to a secured, walled city surrounded by a moat. This nation is occupied by only Wu Du and himself, but as long as he remains here no one can ever hurt him.
Lang Junxia knows he’s still alive now, but he won’t ever let that fact slip. Otherwise, both he and that fake crown prince he’s single-handedly pushed onto the heir’s position are going to die a horrible, painful death. Going by the laws of Great Chen, at the very least they’ll be sentenced to is the death of three thousand cuts.3
The only thing Lang Junxia can do is assassinate him in secret, but no one can brazenly come to the grand chancellor’s estate to commit murder. It’s taken Duan Ling this long to understand that his father’s mastery of the martial arts was downright unparalleled, and that’s judging by nothing other than the night he saved Batu and Jochi alone; the way he infiltrated and escaped a heavily guarded mansion, it was like no one was guarding it at all.
That’s not something Lang Junxia can do. Besides, it’s not like he can leave the palace often. But from this moment on, he must make sure he’s always by Wu Du’s side, and he mustn’t ever leave him.
Lang Junxia wouldn’t make the attempt lightly. Otherwise, once he put Mu Kuangda on alert, the implications of such an act can only lead to more trouble — whatever could make the crown prince’s personal bodyguard come kill a nameless young man for no discernable reason at all? There has to be something more to it. If he makes Mu Kuangda suspicious, it will have deadly consequences.
Duan Ling mustn’t let anyone know either. After all, he has no idea whether Mu Kuangda is friend or foe yet. From the current state of affairs, he’s more likely a foe and less so a friend.
Sometimes he finds it both frustrating and hilarious that this is the manner in which he’s managed to find some kind of balance. It’s as though they’re both walking on tightropes over a bottomless chasm, and any false move will inevitably lead to certain death.
He cannot help but turn to stare at Wu Du, thinking about how he’s going to find some way to stay at his side every moment of the day, and not to separate from him.
Wu Du has quickly changed into a pair of dry pants as soon as they got back, leaving his leanly muscular back and shoulders uncovered, and now he’s pulling each drawer open one by one to put together a hot medicinal drink for preventing colds. He tosses several slices of dried ginger into the pot, adding some brown sugar, and in his search he’s even managed to find some sweet osmanthus. Duan Ling watches him intently, and when Wu Du turns around, their eyes meet, and it makes Wu Du feel a bit self-conscious.
“What are you looking at? You’re downright leering.”
Duan Ling’s expression turns into quite the picture when he hears this; before Wu Du said something, Duan Ling wasn’t thinking anything of the sort, but now that he’s mentioned it, he does find Wu Du’s physique rather nice to look at, tight and muscular like a panther.
“If someone wants to kill me …” Duan Ling says.
Wu Du stares at Duan Ling like he’s just heard something utterly fantastical. He puts the lid on the pot and walks over to check Duan Ling’s forehead with the back of his hand. Duan Ling slaps it away.
“I have a suspicion that man wants to kill me. Did you notice the way he was looking at me earlier ? After all, today I … I found out too much.”
“As if. Wuluohou Mu have got better things to do than to try anything with you.” Wu Du says impatiently, “He wouldn’t dare come mess with me.”
Duan Ling asks probingly, “But what if?”
Wu Du considers Duan Ling with an odd look on his face. “There’s no ‘what if’. Even if he wants to kill you to keep what they said from getting out, I’ll be able to notice if he takes so much as a single step into this courtyard house. And besides, he’s already seen you with me, naturally he’s going to think you’re mine. What’d he try to kill you for?”
“But it’s raining so hard outside that it hides the sound of footsteps.”
“Are you quite done?” Wu Du says testily.
Duan Ling can only stop talking then. Wu Du thinks Duan Ling’s just not all there today, and once the ginger tea is ready he tells him to drink it already, and to go to bed as soon as he’s done, to stop prattling on.
Duan Ling asks, “Can I sleep with you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean I’ll sleep in a little corner just below your bed.”
“Careful you end up trampled to death when I get up to drink water in the middle of the night.”
Duan Ling can only stop talking then.
After he drinks his ginger tea, Wu Du puts his bowl aside, and on realising that Duan Ling has moved his bedding next to the bed, a look of puzzlement comes over his face.
“What on earth are you trying to do?”
Duan Ling is nearly compelled to tell Wu Du the truth right then, but he’s worried that Wu Du won’t believe him. And even if he does believe him, whether or not he’ll sell him out is another problem altogether — even though he thinks Wu Du wouldn’t.
Of course, he also once thought that Lang Junxia wouldn’t.
“I’m scared that he’ll jump in through the window and kill me.” Duan Ling points at the window near the corner.
Wu Du stares at him wordlessly for a beat before saying, “Wuluohou Mu, Zheng Yan, Chang Liujun, none of them would have the gall to barge into my room without my permission. If anyone can take a single step into this room and so much as touch you, I’ll immediately hand my head over.”
Duan Ling looks into Wu Du’s eyes and says, “But you’re going to sleep soon.”
Wu Du says impatiently, “I’m going to sleep! That doesn’t mean I’ll be dead!”
Duan Ling just stares at him.
Wu Du is finding Duan Ling entirely baffling at this point. Ever since they stepped out of the room at the Bouquet Pavilion he’s noticed that Duan Ling hasn’t been himself, and after a short period of normalcy he’s once again beset by paranoia, dreading that someone wants to kill him.
“Can you feel what’s happening around you when you’re asleep?” Duan Ling asks.
Wu Du stares right at Duan Ling and asks, “Why don’t I make you a bowl of decoction that’ll calm your head down? Have you gone nuts?”
Duan Ling waves this idea off at once and lies down, and finally Wu Du flicks a finger towards the lamp, sending a gust of wind at it to put out the light. Even though he doesn’t want to bother with Duan Ling, he doesn’t make him move the bedding he’s relocated next to his bed either, and goes to sleep with things as they are.
Duan Ling lies in his bedding for a while. He can hear Wu Du’s breathing evening out, falling into deep sleep.
Outside, the sound of the elements has gradually lessened.
Can Wu Du really feel what’s going on around him? Carefully, Duan Ling gets up, and when Wu Du doesn’t react to this at all, he suddenly chops a hand toward Wu Du’s neck. But Wu Du has moved even quicker than he has, and in his sleep he blocks the attack with one arm. While his left hand blocks, his right hand cuts across, wrapping itself around Duan Ling’s throat.
Duan Ling is speechless.
“Are you crazy?!” Wu Du says angrily.
“Alright alright alright,” Duan Ling hasten to say, “I’m going to sleep.”
Wu Du turns over, sits up, and pulls Duan Ling up to sit on his bed. He asks, baffled, “What on earth’s the matter with you today?”
“I just feel like I heard too many things I shouldn’t have heard today … I’m scared that I’ll be killed … by that guy named Wu … something.”
“Impossible.” Wu Du is simply exasperated now, repeatedly emphasising to Duan Ling that it’s impossible.
Duan Ling nods, but Wu Du has noticed that Duan Ling really is worried from the solemn look in his eyes. Try as he may, Wu Du realises that he seems unable to dispel Duan Ling’s qualms. He gives this a bit of thought and tries a different approach, and no longer stresses the fact that Wuluohou Mu wouldn’t kill him. Instead, he asks Duan Ling, “Do you trust my fighting skills?”
Duan Ling replies, “I do.”
Wu Du ruminates for a moment before adding, “Weren’t you not afraid to die? When did you start cherishing life so much?”
Now Duan Ling is finding that a bit odd as well. Wasn’t he not afraid to die? Why is he so afraid now?
“I wasn’t afraid to die.” Duan Ling thinks about this, then tells Wu Du earnestly, “That was because I thought I was all alone in the world. And now I’m afraid to die, that’s because … yeah, I feel like there’s things in my life to look forward to still.”
“What’s there to look forward to?”
Duan Ling stares at Wu Du, and he suddenly finds all of it rather funny. He turns away, and laying down on the floor next to Wu Du’s bed, goes to sleep.
Wu Du falls quiet. He cranes his neck down to glance at Duan Ling. Duan Ling has curled up on the floor, and he doesn’t try to make more conversation.
“Hey,” Wu Du says.
“Hmm?”
Wu Du doesn’t continue the conversation either. He lets out a long breath and lies back on his bed. The silence stretches between them. A long time passes, and while Duan Ling’s mind is still wandering, Wu Du reaches a hand down from the bed and snaps his fingers with a clean, crisp sound in front of Duan Ling’s face.
“You just keep this in mind then,” Wu Du says, “I was the one who saved your life. And aside from me, no one can take it away.”
With a smile lingering at the corner of Duan Ling’s mouth, rather strangely, he falls asleep in no time at all.
Tonight the wind is strong and the rain has come both violent and swift. As though fished out of the water, Lang Junxia drips through the galleries outside the Eastern Palace4 on his way back to his quarters to change his clothes. He unties the Buddhist prayer beads wrapped around his wrist, and looks down at the blood stains on the beads.
“Lord Wuluohou Mu, His Highness would like to see you,” the maid says quietly.
“He hasn’t gone to bed yet?” Lang Junxia says.
The maid leads the way ahead of him with a lantern. Outside, thunder rumbles on endlessly.
Cai Yan is sitting against the headboard with his clothes still on, and when Lang Junxia enters the room, he turns his gaze on him.
“Why were you gone so long?” Cai Yan asks.
Lang Junxia thinks for a moment. “I was reminiscing and thus watched the rain for a time.”
Cai Yan asks, “What did you say to him?”
“I said exactly what you asked me to say.” Holding that string of prayer beads, Lang Junxia seems a bit preoccupied.
Cai Yan realises that he isn’t quite right this evening, and frowns. “What is it?”
Lang Junxia raises a questioning eyebrow and stares at Cai Yan.
Cai Yan asks, “Did you see Mu Kuangda?”
“I didn’t. Wu Du was the only one I saw along the way.”
Cai Yan nods, and doesn’t ask any more. The memorial regarding the relocation of the capital is spread on top of the desk, with a shock of red ink from his amendment.
“Once the move is approved, you’ll be gone,” Cai Yan says.
Twirling the prayer beads around his fingers, Lang Junxia slides one bead over a knuckle.
“I suddenly realised that things are not settled here as of yet. So I won’t be leaving, for now.”
Cai Yan is quite surprised to hear such an answer. The furrow between his brows finally grows a little shallower, and a colour of vitality returns to his cheeks. He nods, and says, “That’s good … That’s very good.”
“It’s getting late. Get some sleep, Your Highness.”
He does not bow after he says this, and simply turns to go. Cai Yan is still mumbling to himself, “Very good. He’s finally going to stay.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
The text only did a half quote, but the full original quote goes “better a day left to chance than an auspicious day by the almanac; better today than a day left to chance”, so, no day like today, or the English no time like the present. ↩︎
The literal translation of the punishment 凌遲 is “the lingering death”, often translated to the "death of a thousand cuts’’, but according to the historic texts it’s anywhere between a hundred cuts in 20 minutes to three days and 3,600 cuts, depending on the dynasty. In fiction, the writers almost always choose to pick the version that’s 3,600 cuts. ↩︎
The Eastern Palace is a word that sometimes mean a place and sometimes is just another way to refer to the crown prince. This has spread to other East Asian imperial families. The Japanese residence for the crown prince is also referred to as the eastern palace. ↩︎
