Accidentally Having a Baby with the Future Emperor - Chapter 23

Perhaps to avoid disturbing Xi Rong’s healing, the wooden hut door was tightly shut.

Gu Rong pushed it open and went in directly. At a glance, he saw Xi Rong, backlit, most of his body submerged in the bath barrel.

A faint white mist of cold air drifted around the tub. The effect of the golden needle must have waned considerably as Xi Rong’s hands were gripping the edge of the tub, veins bulging visibly on the backs of his hands.

Clearly, he could already exert some control over his body.

Under normal circumstances, with the acupuncture locked by a golden needle, it would be impossible.

Gu Rong didn’t know exactly what strange illness Xi Rong had, but he wasn’t blind. He had naturally noticed the thick, blood-red flush in Xi Rong’s eyes when he was sick, and how his skin burned much hotter than normal. Those were all signs of a serious heat syndrome in the body. So he wasn’t too surprised that Xi Rong used ice baths to suppress the illness.

At the moment, Xi Rong’s upper body was bare, dark hair loose, and his form was still and unmoving. He looked like a statue immersed in water, calm and silent, showing no signs of violent danger.

“Brother, are you awake?” Out of courtesy, Gu Rong asked.

There was no response.

Gu Rong no longer hesitated. He walked straight to the tub and pulled out the golden needle, which had already been pushed partway out.

‘No big deal,’ Gu Rong thought. He carefully wiped the needle clean and returned it to his sleeve pouch. Confirming that Xi Rong showed no other abnormal symptoms, Gu Rong prepared to leave so as not to disturb his recovery.

But that was when it happened.

Xi Rong, who had been completely still, suddenly raised his head and opened his eyes, perhaps because the needle’s suppression was gone.

Gu Rong was standing behind the bath barrel and could only see Xi Rong’s bare, water-beaded back, not his face.

Seeing the movement, Gu Rong hadn’t even had time to speak when one of the hands gripping the edge suddenly swept toward him with a gust of wind, catching his wrist in an iron-like grip and dragging him forward with lightning speed.

“Brother! Mmph—”

By the time Gu Rong reacted, he was already in the tub.

He was even on his knees.

Thankfully the bathwater buoyed him, or he would have slammed straight into the bottom.

That long-fingered, slightly callused hand had released him the moment he fell into the water. Gu Rong’s first instinct was to get up but he failed.

Why? Because back then, in order to show off, he wasn’t wearing his usual plain cloth robe, but one of the bright silk robes Xi Rong had just bought.

Bright silk was expensive, refined, and had countless advantages, which made it beloved by the nobility. But it also had a flaw; it absorbed water far too well. And today, Gu Rong was dressed in layers upon layers of them. The once elegant and exquisite outfit had become a burden. He managed to lift himself halfway out of the water, only to be dragged right back down by his own elaborate robes.

The harder he climbed, the harder he fell.

Gu Rong fell forward like a dog eating dirt, crashing headfirst into Xi Rong’s chest.

It was astonishingly hot.

Although the man usually appeared upright and gentlemanly, a scholar well-versed in the classics, his chest was surprisingly broad and solid. The impact made Gu Rong see stars. Instinctively, he reached out in a panic to find support, only for his hands to land on defined, firm, and perfectly shaped muscle.

Ah, how rude of him.

Flustered, Gu Rong hurriedly pulled his hands back. He groped for the edge of the tub, trying to push himself up. But in his rush, he only lost balance further and stumbled a second time, straight into the man’s arms.

Gu Rong no longer cared about his throbbing head; he only wanted to beg for forgiveness on the spot.

Heaven bears witness, the gods bear witness, he really didn’t mean to!

His good brother must be cursing him to death inside.

Fortunately, the clumsy tumble at least spared his knees from hitting the bottom of the tub. Instead, he landed on a pair of equally muscular and powerful legs.

His fall had apparently been quite forceful, because the previously immovable Xi Rong, who hadn’t budged no matter how much Gu Rong bumped into him earlier, suddenly went rigid and then, almost imperceptibly, gave a small shudder.

Remembering that the other man was still injured, Gu Rong murmured another apology and hurriedly tried to move his knees away from Xi Rong’s legs. But as soon as he moved, Xi Rong’s body tensed again.

Was he being too rough?

Gu Rong froze halfway up, braced a hand on Xi Rong’s chest, and began inching away very carefully, little by little, with utmost caution.

“Rongrong!”

From above came a voice, hoarse to the extreme, seemingly unable to bear it any longer.

“Don’t move.”

A moment later, a second voice sounded, even raspier, accompanied by the audible roll of an Adam’s apple and slightly urgent, scorching breaths.

“You’re awake, brother?” Gu Rong perked up, thinking he had hurt him, and truly didn’t dare move again. He only lifted his eyes to look up.

Since he was lying atop the man’s chest, the first thing he saw was a jawline, and then the rest of Xi Rong’s face.

Xi Rong’s eyes were still closed. He sat upright with solemn dignity, his brows shadowed, and his handsome, sharp features looked unusually pale in contrast to his fevered skin. Because of that, his tightly pressed thin lips appeared somewhat cold and severe.

“Brother, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. Are you alright? Are you feeling any better?” Gu Rong asked.

“It was my fault. I lost control just now and dragged you in. How are you? Are you okay?” Xi Rong responded, his voice gentle.

But the hoarseness in it couldn’t be concealed.

“I’m fine. I’m just worried I’m hurting you, pressing on you like this.”

“It’s nothing.”

“How could it be nothing? Brother, you don’t have to be so courteous and tolerant. I’ll get out right now, just a moment.”

Gu Rong grabbed the edge of the tub and began to kneel upright, preparing to get up.

Xi Rong suddenly let out a muffled groan, his facial muscles contorted sharply.

At the same time, Gu Rong felt the spot where his knee was resting grow especially hot… and hard. Even with years of martial training, muscles shouldn’t feel that hard.

Gu Rong might have been inexperienced, but he wasn’t ignorant.

On the contrary, during his time in the military camp, constantly surrounded by hot-blooded men, he’d learned plenty. The camp was rough and bold, and with no women around, it wasn’t uncommon for men to turn to each other.

He immediately understood what was going on. Thinking that the cause was likely his own movements, he was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Ah, it was unspeakably rude!

He didn’t dare move, but couldn’t remain still either. Frozen in place, he was unsure what to do.

“…I’m sorry,” Xi Rong said, voice low and hoarse. “I lost control. And made a fool of myself.”

They were both men. Naturally, Gu Rong could understand. Besides, when it came down to it, he was the one who started it.

At that age, for a man, even without someone floundering around in the water like he was, just a bit of friction from something else could easily lead to certain accidents.

The man was already soaking in ice water to suppress his illness. Now he had to endure that on top of it and the torment might well rival the pain of the illness itself.

Gu Rong, who had some knowledge of medicine, couldn’t help but worry in earnest. Under the dual strain, could Xi Rong really endure?

“Um, brother… How about I help you… a little?” After weighing it out, Gu Rong forced himself to say it, bracing inwardly.

He was the one who caused the problem, so it was only right he lent a hand.

But the other man clearly read the classics and carried himself like someone from a strict, rule-bound household. Who knew if he’d even be willing to let Gu Rong help?

The tub was filled with ice water, but because their skin was pressed together and Xi Rong’s body was so hot, Gu Rong hadn’t felt cold at all since the moment he fell in. It was like he was being draped over a furnace. But after those words left his mouth, he immediately felt a sharp and invisible chill begin to seep into the water.

He looked up and found Xi Rong’s eyes open.

But unlike before, when the redness in them had surged wildly, this time his irises were completely overtaken by deep crimson, the color of freshly spilled blood.

In that blood-like hue, Gu Rong’s reflection was clearly visible.

Xi Rong hadn’t opened his eyes earlier for fear of frightening him, but now, through the heavy red mist clouding his sight, he finally saw him, and paused.

The fabric known as bright silk got its name not only from the way it shimmered in sunlight, but also because it was thin as cicada wings. Once soaked, it turned nearly transparent. Many noble families would commission robes from bright silk at great cost, precisely for post-bath intimacy and pleasure.

Although outer robes made of bright silk wouldn’t normally use just one layer, once wet, the nature of the fabric revealed itself.

Now, the waterlogged robe clung like a single thin veil to the young man’s body, outlining every inch of his luminous, flawless skin and bone structure in vivid detail.

“You know how to do that kind of thing?” Xi Rong asked, blood-red eyes locked onto Gu Rong. “Could it be that you… have a lot of experience?”

The stagnant crimson in Xi Rong’s eyes began to stir violently once more.

Gu Rong: “…”

He almost fell over into the water again from panic.

He knew it; he’d been too forward.

“No, no!” he said quickly.

“What do you mean no?”

“Ahem.” Gu Rong coughed hard. “I—I don’t have any experience! I just heard people talk about it and I’ve read about it in medical books. As the saying goes, just because I haven’t eaten pork doesn’t mean I haven’t seen pigs run! It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous. Brother, just pretend you didn’t hear it; pretend I was spouting nonsense.”

“I understand.” Xi Rong suddenly gave a soft laugh. The swirling red in his eyes froze once more with that laugh. “When I’m unwell, my emotions become unstable. Don’t take it to heart.”

It wasn’t anything that would scare him, so Gu Rong waved a hand easily. “It’s nothing. I’m just worried about you, brother. Do you really not need any help?”

Gu Rong could clearly feel the scorching hardness under his knee growing even more obvious.

And thanks to the damned bright silk, which became practically see-through when wet, the sensation was amplified severalfold.

Xi Rong stared deeply at him.

His hand, hanging by his side, had turned ghostly white at the knuckles from how tightly it was clenched. With that same terrifying self-control, he forcefully suppressed the boiling tide threatening to flood his mind and overwhelm his reason. Eyes lowered, he spoke in a voice so soft it nearly caressed, “If you’re willing to help me, I’m very glad. But I can’t let you do that kind of thing for me in this situation.”

If it ever came to that, then he would teach him slowly.

He couldn’t bear to let it happen this way. It would only torment him more.

If it continued like so, his meridians might really rupture and kill him.

Xi Rong took a deep breath and thought.

“But… you can help me in another way,” Xi Rong spoke again.

Gu Rong was startled, still trying to figure out what he meant, when that large, calloused hand suddenly reached out from the bath and wrapped around his waist, pulling him in.

Gu Rong tumbled once more onto that searing, firm chest.

Only this time, with his waist held tightly, he was practically pressed flush against the other, body to body with not even a sliver of space between them.

“Your legs and waist are very nice. Have you practiced martial arts?” Xi Rong asked.

Gu Rong said, “A little, I guess. I’m kind of lazy and can’t stand the pain of training.”

Xi Rong laughed. “You’re right, martial arts are a bit too grueling and don’t suit you.”

After all the tossing about, Gu Rong’s sash had come undone, and his ink-black hair, like a curtain of satin, now fanned out across the bath like seaweed. He didn’t bother with it and just let it drift freely.

“Hold me,” came the low, husky voice from above.

“Why?”

“It’ll help me.”

So Gu Rong obediently stretched his arms around the other’s lean, strong waist. He had to admit, like hugging a furnace, it was surprisingly comfortable, even warmer than A’Li.

Helping like so wasn’t that bad.

After all, he did really like sleeping with something in his arms.

No matter if there was thunder, wind, lightning, or anything else dreadful, as long as he had something to hold, he could sleep until dawn. People called that being heartless, but he just called it talent.

Xi Rong looked down at the obedient figure resting against his chest. In his eyes, eyes filled to the brim with red, a flicker of tenderness appeared. Then he lowered his head and gently kissed a strand of that black hair floating on the water’s surface.

Out in the courtyard, Jiang Cheng was pacing back and forth with his sword in hand. “I told you we shouldn’t have let him go in. It’s been a whole hour now and not a sound was heard from inside. What if something really happened?”

Zhou Wenhe stared at the still-shut door, not even trying to hide his worry. “Exactly. It’s been way too long and it’s completely silent.”

“I think it’s fine,” Song Yang said, sitting on a straw mat and sipping tea. “Even if there’s no sound, there’s no bad sound, is there?”

Jiang Cheng said mercilessly, “If His Highness snapped his neck clean, there wouldn’t be any bad sound.” He could already imagine the young master’s tragic decapitated corpse.

Hearing that, Song Yang suddenly got a bit uneasy too. He put down his teacup and was just hesitating whether to risk knocking on the door when it finally opened from the inside.

Xi Rong stepped out, wearing a black robe, his ink-dark hair loose over his shoulders.

“Your Highness!”

The three of them immediately rushed forward, pleasantly surprised.

After bowing, Jiang Cheng instinctively glanced behind Xi Rong, but didn’t see Gu Rong. His heart gave a jolt.

“The young master went in just now—”

Song Yang started cautiously but Xi Rong cut him off. “He’s sleeping. Keep your voices down. Don’t wake him.”

Jiang Cheng, who had just been envisioning a bloody corpse: ?

So the young master had gone in to pull out a needle… and not only didn’t get hurt, but managed to pull himself all the way into bed?

So how did he pull that off under His Highness’ nose?

Jiang Cheng was utterly in awe.

And he honestly, deeply, and sincerely wanted to ask him for advice later.

The group settled around the straw mat in the courtyard. Jiang Cheng poured a bowl of hot tea for Xi Rong, and then respectfully reported what had happened that morning, mainly how Yan Hemei, Liu Xin, and their forces had withdrawn.

Xi Rong paused after hearing it. He had guessed the danger was likely resolved, but he hadn’t expected it to be that way.

Unconsciously, he turned and glanced in the direction of the wooden hut.

Song Yang praised from the side, “That young master showed no fear in the face of danger, truly courageous. Without moving a single blade or soldier, he scared off nearly ten thousand troops with just his words. This is truly the legendary art of subduing the enemy without battle. He has rendered great merit to Your Highness and the Eastern Palace. Otherwise, I truly cannot imagine what tragic situation we might have faced today.”

“I will reward him well,” Xi Rong said, withdrawing his gaze.

“Your Highness is right, he should indeed be well rewarded,” Song Yang and Zhou Wenhe both echoed with smiles.

Song Yang took the opportunity to offer advice, “That day when the Eastern Palace put up notices to recruit talents, that young master was the only one to submit his name. It shows he has a connection with Your Highness and the Eastern Palace. Later, when Your Highness was ambushed and wounded, it was also the young master who saved you. I heard from Jiang Cheng that Your Highness intended to bring him into the Eastern Palace. If so, why not use this opportunity to strike while the iron is hot and make it happen?

“There are many vacant civil positions in the Eastern Palace at the moment. The young master has a free-spirited nature, unrestrained by convention, and is rare in that he is both interesting and pleasing. If he could enter the palace to serve Your Highness and stay at Your Highness’s side, it would be a fine thing indeed.”

Although Song Yang phrased it tactfully, he believed that with his sovereign’s wisdom, Xi Rong would understand his meaning.

Unexpectedly, Xi Rong said, “I do intend to bring him into the Eastern Palace. However, not now, and not in the role of a civil official. This matter can be discussed later.”

Song Yang was taken aback.

But Xi Rong’s gaze had already turned cold and sharp again, his usual murderous aura surfacing. He said, “There is another matter I need to entrust to you.”

Having already guessed as much, Song Yang immediately bowed and said, “Please give your orders, Your Highness.”

Zhou Wenhe and Jiang Cheng also bowed their heads to await instruction.

Gu Rong didn’t wake up until noon.

Climbing off the stone bed, he felt sore all over, as if he’d gotten into a fight in his sleep. He stretched his neck and was just about to rub his own shoulders when a hand reached over from behind and began to knead them first. The pressure was just right, firm, even, and soothing.

Gu Rong turned his head and saw Xi Rong behind him, dressed in black. The redness in Xi Rong’s eyes had faded, and now they held a trace of a smile.

“Brother, is your illness cured?” Gu Rong asked.

Xi Rong nodded and his other hand came up to press on Gu Rong’s right shoulder. Now he was massaging both at once.

Gu Rong wore only a silk inner robe made of bright silk. Having just woken up, the robe hung loosely off him, exposing his long neck and part of his slender back. With Xi Rong’s hands moving, his shoulder blades flexed and rose without him noticing.

Gu Rong had a refined, elegant figure. Although slender, he wasn’t weak or delicate. His bones were distinct and graceful, like bamboo joints, straight and firm. He was truly a figure of gold and jade, born with natural bearing. Even when drunk, he looked like a tumbling jade mountain, his elegance innate.

He happened to be the exact type Xi Rong was drawn to in every way.

Xi Rong had tried to let go once, against his better judgment, and nearly made a disastrous mistake.

This time, he would not let go so easily again.

Gu Rong sat cross-legged, eyes half-closed from how comfortable the massage was. As he lowered his head, he suddenly remembered something important. When he fell into the bath, the robe he was wearing didn’t seem to be the one he currently had on.