Accidentally Having a Baby with the Future Emperor - Chapter 113

Xiao Rong followed Gongsun Yu deeper into the command compound.

The night wind brushed through the garden’s trees and flowers, and through the sleeves of his robe. He had thought himself fully prepared to face that man, yet when the moment truly came, he realized his palms were slick with cold sweat. He was far less composed than he had imagined.

A sudden urge rose in him to turn back and find Xi Rong.

When Xi Rong was there, he never had to face anything alone; Xi Rong would unhesitatingly shield him from every danger, discomfort, and humiliation.

However, this was his own choice. How could he drag Xi Rong down with him?

He felt a flicker of regret that, in trying to sever Xi Rong’s thoughts completely, he hadn’t looked back one more time.

Then again, perhaps it was better not to look.

He could almost picture the despair and anguish that must have filled Xi Rong’s face.

“Young Prince.”

Gongsun Yu suddenly stopped ahead and asked, “Was it truly you who abducted Captain Jing?”

Gongsun Yu was not a man who let private grudges rule him. Although Xiao Rong had embarrassed him more than once and never spoke kindly to him, Gongsun Yu genuinely did not wish to see things spiral past the point of no return.

In his two days in the capital, he had learned enough to know that Xiao Rong had already been cast out of the Xiao clan. Although he still bore the title of heir, in truth, he no longer enjoyed their protection.

He knew a little of his lord’s temper.

He had long seen with his own eyes how indulgent the Prince was toward Jing Xi; an affection excessive and baffling at times. Even though the Prince had stripped Jing Xi of his rank as one of the Thirteen Protectors, he could not truly abandon him.

If this young heir really had abducted Jing Xi to threaten the Prince, the outcome would be disastrous.

Gongsun Yu hoped Xiao Rong would know when to yield and to leave himself a path to live.

“Those who know the times are the wise,” he said carefully. “When you face His Highness, it would be best to tell him where Captain Jing is and not resist stubbornly. So long as the captain is unharmed and with the Crown Prince to vouch for you, the Prince should not make things too difficult.”

He even thought that if it came to it, he could set aside old resentments and speak on the young man’s behalf.

After all, back on the Platform of Challenge of the Northern Yan camp years ago, he had watched the youth and felt genuine admiration for his talent.

However, all he received in reply was a cold laugh.

“Save those words,” Xiao Rong said, “and have Yan Ju tell me himself.”

Gongsun Yu shook his head helplessly, knowing that further words would be useless.

Outside Prince Yan’s residence stood only one old servant, a man named Yan Shan.

When Gongsun Yu approached, Yan Shan’s gaze immediately fell on the young man behind him. His eyes lingered for quite a while before he said, “His Highness is waiting for General Gongsun in the main hall. As for this young master, please allow me to attend to him.”

Yan Shan was an old servant from the Prince’s household, responsible for His Highness’s daily care and for conveying important messages on his behalf.

Gongsun Yu nodded and went to the main hall to make his report, while Yan Shan led Xiao Rong toward a brightly lit room to the right of the hall.

“Please rest here for a while, young master,” Yan Shan said kindly as he opened the door. “His Highness will come to see you shortly.”

Xiao Rong stepped inside and Yan Shan quietly closed the door and withdrew.

All at once, the world around him fell silent.

He looked around the room with wary eyes. It was a bedroom, warmly and comfortably arranged; nothing like the cold dungeon or torture chamber he had half expected.

What drew his attention most was the southern wall, where a collection of small trinkets hung: a palm-sized bow wrapped in deerskin, a paper pinwheel, a little kite, and a whistle carved from some kind of bone; all simple toys that clearly belonged to a child.

Could this be Jing Xi’s room?

If so, what was Yan Ju’s purpose in bringing him here?

When the moment truly came, Xiao Rong found himself unexpectedly calm. Seeing that only two armored riders stood outside the door like wooden posts, with no other movement, he simply sat down on a woven mat by the low table.

After a while, footsteps sounded from outside.

Xiao Rong lifted his head sharply. The door opened again and the same old servant as before entered.

Yan Shan came in carrying a tray laden with steaming dishes. Kneeling before the table, he carefully set each dish in front of Xiao Rong and said, “Please, young master, have something to eat first.”

Xiao Rong, tense from head to toe, had no appetite whatsoever. Nor did he trust the food, uncertain if it had been drugged. His voice was cold as he asked, “When will Yan Ju come?”

Yan Shan smiled. “A military dispatch arrived from the northern front today. His Highness is discussing urgent matters of war with several generals. It may take a little while before he can come. But please rest assured, young master. The moment the council ends, His Highness will come to you.”

Yan Ju would certainly come. How else could he force out Jing Xi’s whereabouts?

Whatever report could outweigh that must concern the borderlands.

Still, Xiao Rong hated the feeling of sitting here waiting for the knife to fall.

And as his thoughts idled, he couldn’t help but begin to worry about Xi Rong. He didn’t know whether Xi Rong had clashed with those eighteen riders, or what the situation was now.

Xiao Rong had been caught in the rain yesterday and already felt a bit feverish. After drinking a bowl of ginger soup that morning, he’d improved somewhat. But now, whether from tension or from sitting too long, he began to feel a chill creeping through him again.

Yet here, in the wolf’s den and tiger’s lair, he could not afford to show weakness. He clenched his jaw in silence, straightened his shoulders, and refused to let even a trace of discomfort or frailty appear.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before voices suddenly came from outside. Xiao Rong, who had been sitting with his head lowered, half lost to the cold and drowsiness, snapped alert at the sound and immediately sat upright.

The door was ajar and faint light spilled from the corridor.

Through the small gap, he saw the old servant standing there respectfully, bowing as he reported something to a man in a dark python-embroidered robe.

Xiao Rong’s fists tightened.

The voices faded and soon after, the door was pushed open and someone entered.

Xiao Rong sat up straight, eyes fixed on the food tray before him. His fists, hidden within his sleeves, trembled slightly from how tightly he was clenching them.

“Why haven’t you eaten? Does it not suit your taste?”

The newcomer stopped in front of the table, stood for a moment, and asked.

“Yan Shan!” Without waiting for an answer, Prince Yan called out.

The old servant entered immediately. “What’s the matter?”

The Prince frowned at the untouched dishes on the table, looking thoroughly displeased. “Have the kitchens redo it!”

Yan Shan obeyed, bringing in a tray to collect the untouched food one dish at a time before retreating.

Prince Yan looked at the silent young man across from him and slowly smiled. “I’ll have them make it again until you’re satisfied.”

“No need.” Xiao Rong drew a slow breath, as though breaking free from the suffocating weight pressing on his chest, and finally lifted his head. “Let’s get to the point.”

Prince Yan set down his riding whip and casually took a seat across from him at the table. “The point? Isn’t eating the point?”

Xiao Rong had no idea what the other man was up to. The scene before him was nothing like the interrogation he had imagined. Maybe this was simply a way to confuse him; offer a sweet date first to make him drop his guard, loosen his vigilance, draw words from him, and then shove him into hell.

Yan Ju had commanded the Northern Yan for years and knew the art of war well. Naturally, he also knew how to wage war on the mind.

However, he was a student of the military classics; he would not be taken in by such hypocritical tricks. Xiao Rong set his jaw, made up his mind, and, for the first time, raised his eyes to look straight at the man’s face from so near.

At the Northern Yan camp, his rank had been nothing more than the lowest medic in the field hospital and he had no chance to see the fearsome Prince Yan up close. On the rare occasions he did catch a glimpse, it had always been from a distance. The first time he saw Yan Ju close was probably after a great battle, when an officer had burst into the field hospital in a panic and grabbed the old physician’s shoulder.

“The Prince has been wounded. Hurry to the central command tent!”

He had been following the old physician to fetch medicine. The physician’s face had changed at once and he ordered Xiao Rong to take the medicine chest and come along.

The central tent was already in chaos. A group of generals in full armor stood around Prince Yan, who lay on a folding chair; their faces were terrified. When the physicians arrived, they made a path for them. They said Prince Yan had taken an arrow to the left chest while saving a general. The arrow was very close to his heart and the wound was grave. The general knelt before the couch, racked with remorse.

“If you must cry, cry outside. I’m not dead yet.”

The man on the couch, eyes shut, said the words impatiently, and the general instantly stifled his sobs.

The old physician hurried to the couch, examined the wound, and prepared to pull the arrow out. Xiao Rong stood behind, assisting and handing whatever was needed. Through the crowd, he saw Prince Yan’s face for the first time. He was as much as he had imagined: imposing, cold, towering and fierce like a lion on the plains, and yet somehow different.

He could not recall how the old physician, with masterful skill and risking death, had succeeded in removing the arrow. He only remembered that the man had not uttered a sound the whole time. The moment the arrow was pulled, blood spurted everywhere, and a drop splashed onto his face.

Now, in this room, Xiao Rong could see clearly. The man before him did not look gravely wounded. If anything, he seemed a little sterner and younger than before. Up close, Xiao Rong noticed a few gray hairs at the temples, a shade between white and black.

Xiao Rong held those wolfish eyes, the same eyes that made whole foreign tribes tremble, and said, “Jing Xi is in my hands. If you want him to live, you will take your men and leave the capital at once. Go back to Northern Yan.”

The room fell deathly silent. After a long moment, Prince Yan clicked his tongue.

“So fierce. Is this how Xiao Jingming usually trains you?”