Three Steps: From Assassin to Empress - Chapter 40

Chapter 40

A small world was enveloped by the blanket, dark and without light, but they could just barely make out each other’s features. Ying Xiu, with his bright eyes, looked nervously at the retainer.

The retainer’s expression was calm, but a brief look of surprise appeared on his cold, handsome face. “It seems so.”

He seemed a little confused as well. “It must be a coincidence.”

A coincidence?

Ying Xiu faced Xie Zhou, his head resting on his chest, leaning into his arms. He spoke his guess conspiratorially, “That emperor is intent on purging the aristocratic families. Along the Grand Canal, from north to south, we just happened to stumble upon this route.”

As for why people who offended Xie Zhou were subsequently arrested and had their families exterminated, it must be a coincidence.

Ying Xiu counted on his fingers. There was only the Xiangli family who had disturbed them on the ship and the Jing Province governor’s son who had insulted him and Xie Zhou on the official road. That was only two aristocratic families.

The Xiangli family had done a lot of evil and deserved to die. The Jing Province governor was purged by the imperial court. All in all, it didn’t have much to do with Xie Zhou.

Maybe he was just overthinking it.

Suddenly remembering something, Ying Xiu shot up. The blanket was still over his head. He knelt on the retainer’s lap, wrapped his arms around his neck, and examined the expression on his face.

The white-robed retainer was always emotionally reserved, maintaining a gentle and calm demeanor at all times. Ying Xiu couldn’t guess what he was thinking—maybe he was sad about the downfall of the aristocratic families. So he simply leaned in and kissed him.

The youth’s sudden request for a kiss, filled with passionate affection, landed haphazardly on his face. Xie Zhou reached out and held his buttocks, lowering his head to kiss him back under the blanket.

It was awkward and forceful.

Ying Xiu felt a little breathless and endured it weakly.

When he was finally released, he knelt on the retainer’s lap, panting softly. His chest heaved. When he finally calmed down, he looked up and saw that the other man’s pristine white robe was all wrinkled and messy.

It was what he had done in his desperation.

Ying Xiu’s face turned red, feeling guilty for his extravagance. How much money did this robe cost? Could he still wear it after it was so wrinkled?

Ultimately, it was all Xie Zhou’s fault.

He huffily lifted the blanket, crawled out, and left Xie Zhou to be covered by it alone.

The retainer didn’t move. He sat still, a soft white blanket draped over his head. The blanket wasn’t very thick and shimmered, covering his face and revealing only his snow-like collar.

Ying Xiu turned his head and saw this scene.

He suddenly remembered the Buddhist niche he had seen in the Qionghua Terrace when he was a child. The Bodhisattva was draped in a white veil, with misty, holy, and beautiful features.

At this moment, Xie Zhou was his Bodhisattva, and he belonged only to him.

He couldn’t help it. He quietly lifted the blanket and crawled back in, leaning down to peck at Xie Zhou.

Xie Zhou hugged him, clamping his waist, and pressed him down onto the chair-bed.

It was pitch-black in front of him. Nothing could be seen under the soft blanket, as if the moonlight was also blocked from entering this small world.

Ying Xiu blinked. His heart beat wildly, the pulse spreading to all his limbs. His body instinctively feared the darkness. Every pulse in his body was throbbing, creating a racket, as if turning into a taut drum, silently boiling.

His dark hair was disheveled, his cheeks were hot, and his eyes were bright and sparkling with a beautiful light. He hugged the retainer, pecking at his cold and beautiful features haphazardly, from his chin to his thin lips, and then to his eyelids…

The youth’s body was warm, his skin glistening with fine sweat. His long eyelashes were wet and trembling slightly, and his slender body trembled slightly, a messy, drenched sight.

In the darkness, the assassin kissed the retainer with a heart full of reverence and joy.

The youth’s love was like a raging fire, hot and scorching, melting them both into two dewdrops, a hazy mist at dawn.

In the midst of the chaos, Ying Xiu seemed to touch something. He curiously gave it a feel.

The next moment, the other man suddenly froze and quickly got up and left, leaving him lying on the chair-bed, his black hair sprawled all over the bed. His eyes were blank, and he opened his mouth, breathing softly under the soft blanket.

Under the glass lamp, a slender, graceful hand slowly lifted the blanket. There were still a few red marks on his skin from being held tightly.

Ying Xiu propped himself up with his hand, slowly sitting up, letting the blanket curl up in his arms. His soft, dark hair was a mess, falling like a cloud of smoke on his shoulders, temples, and face.

Just now, he felt like he was about to die.

The assassin felt a lingering fear. It was the first time he had felt such an indescribable fear. He took a deep breath, lay back down, and didn’t forget to cover his face with the blanket, choosing to play dead.

He closed his eyes, and the scene of Xie Zhou sitting quietly, draped in the soft blanket, appeared before his eyes again.

—”Youthful and pure, with a beautiful and melancholic aura.”

Ying Xiu remembered that phrase again.

Oh no, he wanted to kiss Xie Zhou again.

Ying Xiu, Ying Xiu, you can’t be so obsessed with beauty anymore.

Ying Xiu deeply despised himself in his heart.

The retainer quietly tidied himself up. He looked down, and the youth was still lying on the chair-bed, his head covered by the soft blanket. He had turned over to face the other side, seemingly determined to avoid him.

He walked over, leaned down, picked up both the person and the blanket, and carefully carried him into the bed curtains.

The glass lamp was extinguished.

Outside, the wind and snow were dark and raging, and the vast sea was tumultuous.

Ning Province had arrived.

Ning Province was a vast region with seventeen prefectures, all under the jurisdiction of the Xi family of Gaoping. Most of the local prefects were related to the Xi family.

Ying Xiu got off the ship, a snow-colored veiled hat placed on his head by Xie Zhou. A strong wind blew, and the white veil parted to reveal his delicate, pale face.

The further south they went, the hotter it got. The first snow of winter had fallen in Jing Province, but Ning Province was still basking in bright sunlight.

The hot sun warmed Ying Xiu’s whole body. He turned back, ran to Xie Zhou, took his hand, and they boarded the carriage together.

The carriage passed through the market. The air was filled with noisy voices, and a shrill suona sounded from a distance. The feathered Taoist priests recited mournful elegies, and all sorts of sounds flooded into his ears.

It turned out that today was the seventh day after Xi An’s death.

Ying Xiu wasn’t interested in it. When he turned his head, he saw Xie Zhou looking down at him. He felt a little guilty for no reason. “Why are you looking at me?”

Xie Zhou asked him, “Does the whip wound from back then still hurt?”

Ying Xiu was stunned for a moment. He squeezed the golden hem of his robe. So Xie Zhou had seen it. The whip marks were so ugly, and he didn’t want Xie Zhou to see them at all.

He said as if it were a casual matter, “It hasn’t hurt for a long time. How many years has it been?”

The next moment, under the other man’s gentle and scrutinizing gaze, Ying Xiu suddenly remembered that his official identity was a scholar. It would be strange for a scholar to have whip marks all over his body.

But Xie Zhou didn’t ask him about the origin of the whip marks, so Ying Xiu couldn’t very well explain himself without sounding suspicious.

“I have an ointment that can remove scars,” Xie Zhou said, as if he had read his mind. He took out a box and handed it to him.

It was cold to the touch, a small jade box with beautiful ice-crackle patterns on it, exquisite and luxurious.

Even if Ying Xiu had never used scar removal cream before, he knew that this thing must be expensive. Thinking about how he had been using Xie Zhou’s money all this time, he asked, “How much does this cost? I’ll find a way to earn money and pay you back.”

Upon hearing this, Xie Zhou seemed unhappy. “You don’t have to worry about money. I can give you anything you want.”

He carefully put the ointment away. Ying Xiu felt a little uneasy. In his memory, only Father Jiu Chi was good to him unconditionally. If anyone else gave him something, they would surely take something from him in return.

If Xie Zhou wanted to take something from him, he would give him anything he had. But now that he was penniless, what could he give Xie Zhou?

It was time to go out and earn some money.

There were many ways for an assassin to earn money, and it all boiled down to one thing: assassination.

Ying Xiu took a job from the Wang family of Langya through the owl: assassinate the Prefect of Ning Province.

After nightfall, Ying Xiu closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. When Xie Zhou’s breathing beside him gradually became steady, he suddenly sat up, reached out his fingertips, and gently pinched Xie Zhou’s long eyebrows.

“Xie Zhou, are you asleep?”

The young assassin, wearing a thin undergarment, had his legs parted. He was completely unaware that he was straddling the retainer. He had his dark, waist-length hair down and asked in a low voice.

After a long time with no response from Xie Zhou, Ying Xiu lowered his head and pecked him. With a mischievous thought, he gently bit the beautiful retainer’s well-shaped thin lips.

Xie Zhou: “…”

Ying Xiu stood up satisfied and tiptoed to the side. His bare feet stepped on something, making him a little confused. He looked back and saw that Xie Zhou had no intention of waking up.

Ying Xiu didn’t pay it any mind. He carefully jumped off the bed. To avoid waking Xie Zhou, he didn’t even put on his shoes and walked out barefoot.

He walked around the screen, took out the black clothes and face mask hidden in the trunk, and got dressed as an assassin. He picked up his sword, ‘Heart’s Question,’ which had been sealed away for a long time.

He quietly opened the folding door. The night was deep and the dew was heavy. There was no one outside the door. Ying Xiu slipped out and carefully closed the door. He then nimbly leaped onto the roof beam and walked quickly along the tall roof ridge.

The Imperial Guards lurking behind the roof beasts: “…”

You’re just out to admire the moon, aren’t you? Please don’t tell us that the emperor’s beloved male favorite has secretly abandoned his majesty and gone out to kill people.

After Ying Xiu left, a faint light suddenly lit up in the quiet room. Immediately after, the entire residence lit up.

The young, tyrannical monarch sat in the main seat. On the jade table beside him was a neatly folded golden robe, including the headband.

This was what the youth had just taken off.

“Your Majesty, do you want this humble official to bring him back—”

The Imperial Guard commander, who had been pulled out of his warm bed, asked cautiously.

“No need.”

The emperor sat alone in the shadows. His handsome, cold features no longer held the warmth he had for Ying Xiu. All that was left was a terrifyingly gloomy indifference.

He asked casually, “Are the preparations for the matter of the Wang family of Langya ready?”

The Wang family of Langya was an aristocratic family from the Central Plains. After they migrated south, they ruled Jiangdong with the royal family. They were immensely powerful, and it was not easy to completely eradicate them.

The emperor had been planning and enduring for many years, waiting for a single strike to uproot the four great aristocratic families. The time was not yet right. If he were to rashly attack the Wang family of Langya, he was afraid it would force the other aristocratic families to take desperate measures.

His confidant said cautiously, “This subordinate is ready. We are only waiting for your command, Your Majesty.”

The emperor didn’t speak. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. His voice was very soft, so soft that the trusted officials present doubted if they had heard him correctly.

“Tell me, how can I make him obey?”

The “he” he was referring to was self-evident. Someone immediately replied, “The young master is, after all, an assassin. To deal with an assassin, we should naturally use an assassin’s methods.”

For example, to break a sword, smelt it in a fire to turn it into a soft puddle of liquid iron, and then carefully store it in a box.