Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 128: He Zheng · Estrangement

Chapter 128: He Zheng · Estrangement

The Changhuan Palace was lavishly decorated, with every piece a priceless treasure. Even the smallest teacup was an antique masterpiece. He Zheng spared no expense to please He Lang, as though he would empty the entire national treasury if necessary.

Yet He Lang said he could not enjoy such extravagance and treated everything as ordinary. Aside from a small area where he rested, he left the vast space dim, disliking even lighting the lamps. Thus, what should have been a brilliantly illuminated and resplendent palace now appeared dark and deep, with only a few flickering candles providing light.

“Are you dissatisfied with the living arrangements? Why don’t you light the lamps?” He Zheng asked considerately, stepping closer and finally finding an opportunity to sit across from him. He greedily studied He Lang’s face once again.

It was laughable, really. In the past, this man would walk a mile from his remote courtyard to wait outside He Zheng’s palace every day, rain or shine. But back then, blinded by ambition, He Zheng paid no attention to such efforts. If he had time, he would occasionally acknowledge him; if busy, he would have the palace staff dismiss him. Yet, He Lang never complained.

Recalling how he had wasted He Lang’s prime years, He Zheng couldn’t help but feel regret. Now, simply being near this man brought him immense joy. Every frown and glance from He Lang could be savored endlessly.

“I want to return to my old courtyard,” He Lang said, pouring himself a cup of tea and drinking slowly. He didn’t mind exchanging a few words with He Zheng since he couldn’t leave for the time being. He could only adapt to the situation. But He Zheng’s sudden attentiveness, visiting him daily, made him feel strangely uncomfortable.

This current situation was something neither of them could have imagined ten years ago.

Hearing his request, He Zheng refused without hesitation, saying firmly, “That’s not possible. Anything else you wish, I’ll grant. Back then, we promised our hearts to each other. Now that I’m the emperor, it’s only natural for you to live in the Changhuan Palace.”

He Lang turned away, finding the mention of their supposed mutual affection grating. Did He Zheng mistake the care he had once extended as love?

“We are merely brothers. The Changhuan Palace is where your empress should reside. Please remember that.”

He Zheng’s expression darkened, and his grip on the teacup tightened. “Brother, I’ve truly repented long ago. Please don’t treat me with such coldness anymore, I beg you. Since you left, I haven’t been able to eat or sleep well. For ten years, I’ve missed you every day. I… I love you.”

He Zheng was skilled in managing state affairs and leading armies but knew nothing of love. Uttering this long-buried confession made him both nervous and anxious.

He hadn’t anticipated that his genuine feelings would mean so little to He Lang. The man smiled faintly, and instead of the excitement he once dreamed of when hearing such a confession, He Lang felt only resignation.

“You love how I treated you, not me.”

He Zheng’s breath quickened, and he hurriedly shook his head in denial.

“Brother, I love only you. Even though you treat me so coldly now, I still want to be close to you. Isn’t that love?”

He Lang shook his head without responding. He walked to the bed and retrieved a jade pendant. He Zheng’s eyes lit up as he recognized the item from his memories, and he was overcome with joy.

The pendant was perhaps the only gift he had ever given He Lang. Though it had been casually torn from his adornments and given as a whim, He Lang had treasured it dearly, carrying it with him always and often rubbing it until it became smooth and aged.

Even after ten years, He Lang had kept it? Did this mean he still cared for He Zheng?

He Lang approached, grabbed He Zheng’s hand, and placed the pendant in his palm. He Zheng’s heart pounded as he anticipated a tender smile or a confession of lingering affection.

But He Lang merely stepped back, putting distance between them.

“In my youthful ignorance, I once promised to wait for you forever when you didn’t respond to me. This pendant, which I’ve kept until now, I’m returning to you. I’m sorry—I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Panic flashed across He Zheng’s face as he grabbed He Lang’s wrist, shaking his head repeatedly. “You don’t have to wait. I was foolish before and missed my chance. From now on, I’ll wait for you. Is that okay?”

He Zheng locked eyes with him, searching for even a trace of softness or pity, but was disheartened to see those clear eyes devoid of emotion. They no longer reflected him at all.

In that moment, all the dignity of an emperor was cast aside. He Zheng bit his lip and, like a desperate child, clung to He Lang. “I won’t let you leave me.”

Touching He Lang’s body again and inhaling his familiar scent, He Zheng closed his eyes, greedily savoring the moment. His rationality crumbled as he pushed He Lang onto the soft bed.

He Lang’s expression shifted, and he sternly asked, “What are you doing?”

“Don’t be afraid, brother,” He Zheng murmured soothingly, pulling open He Lang’s collar and kissing his neck with reverence.

Yet the coldness in He Lang’s face starkly contrasted with the memory of his youthful blush. Unable to bear the comparison, He Lang fiercely pushed He Zheng away, grabbed a teacup, smashed it on the bed frame, and slashed his wrist. Holding the bloodied shard, he warned, “Stay away.”

He Zheng’s gaze froze on the wound, panic gripping his heart. He backed away, trembling, and pleaded for He Lang to put down the shard. Only after much coaxing did He Lang relent and allow the palace staff to bandage his wound.

“If you don’t want this, I won’t force you. Please, don’t harm yourself…” He Zheng clutched his temples, full of regret. He had never imagined He Lang would go to such lengths to reject him.

He Lang, unmoved, turned his back on He Zheng, leaving him distraught and speechless. The once-proud emperor, now stripped of composure, hesitated before finally whispering, “Did you ever truly care for me, or was it all a lie?”

To his surprise, He Lang opened his eyes and replied, “If I hadn’t cared, why would I have been so deeply hurt? Why else would I have willingly drunk the poisoned wine?”

Hearing this, He Zheng felt both joy and sorrow. He Lang had indeed loved him deeply, but that love had been lost.

“Brother, I know I was wrong—terribly wrong. Punish me however you wish, but please don’t harm yourself. Seeing you hurt feels like a knife to my heart,” He Zheng pleaded, his voice trembling.

“I was the fool back then. Why do you cling to me now? You know as well as I do that there’s no future for us,” He Lang responded coldly, his back still turned.

He Zheng shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t know that. I don’t believe it. I just want my old brother back.”

He Lang laughed bitterly. “Your old brother is dead. He Zheng, don’t push me. I owe you nothing.”

Hearing his name spoken so coldly for the first time, He Zheng was stunned. The once-gentle He Lang now seemed like a stranger.

Desperation evident, He Zheng knelt before him, abandoning the last shred of pride. “I’m not pushing you. I’m begging you…”

He Lang sighed, finally revealing the truth. “During those ten years, I lost my ‘soul of affection.’ It may sound unbelievable, but during that time, my heart was calm, free of any feelings. All my emotions for you were buried.”

He Zheng, having witnessed the extraordinary, believed him instantly. “So it’s because you lost your soul of affection that you stopped loving me? Is there a way to retrieve it?”

But He Lang’s next words were merciless. “I’ve already regained it.”

This meant He Lang’s current indifference had nothing to do with his lost soul—it was his genuine feelings.

He Zheng’s emotions fluctuated wildly, but he managed to suppress his despair.

Pointing to the door, He Lang said, “It’s late. Please leave, Your Majesty. You are the emperor. Stop behaving so frivolously. As brothers, we can still get along.”

“You know I don’t want brotherly affection,” He Zheng muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment.

“Please,” He Lang repeated coldly, motioning toward the door.

Bitter and unwilling, He Zheng left, his heart in turmoil. For now, he could only hope for the smallest fragment of attention from He Lang, even if it meant compromising his own pride.