Tan Hua - Chapter 63

“Li Qing.”

 

“Li Qing.”

 

“Li Qing…”

 

Song Liqing woke up from his dream, gently opened his eyes, and felt calm inside.

 

All night long, he hadn’t dreamt of Jun Qiyu.

 

Finally, he hadn’t dreamt of Jun Qiyu.

 

Although there was a bit of emptiness, it was still better than a night full of nightmares.

 

“Liqing, it’s already noon.”

 

Pei Xingxu’s gentle voice.

 

“Mmm…”

 

Song Liqing turned over, letting out a lazy nasal sound.

 

“I still want to sleep a little longer.”

 

Pei Xingxu pinched his small nose.

 

“The sun is nice today. Let me take you outside to bask in it.”

 

“Can I not go? The bed is warmer than the wind outside.”

 

Pei Xingxu smiled knowingly. It was rare for Song Liqing to be so lazy, which meant that he was becoming more relaxed around him.

 

“Half an hour.”

 

“One hour,” Song Liqing bargained.

 

“Half an hour. Too much sleep will give you a headache.”

 

Pei Xingxu waited in the bedchamber for half an hour before Song Liqing lazily got up and put on a thick sable fur cloak.

 

“Is it heavy?”

 

Pei Xingxu smoothed the fur collar. Draped over Song Liqing’s slender frame, it didn’t look bulky, but with his small face, he appeared delicate and adorable, rather than cold and aloof.

 

“It’s fine, not heavy.”

 

Song Liqing waved his thick sleeves. It was the first time he had worn so much. Although the capital of Jingguo also got cold in winter, it was nothing compared to here, where stepping outside meant facing bone-chilling winds.

 

“Xingxu, do you think I look better now? I’ve been feeling quite good these days.”

 

Song Liqing rubbed his face, trying to make it look warmer and more flushed.

 

Pei Xingxu looked at his fair skin, but his lips were getting paler, a sign that he wasn’t actually improving.

 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Song Liqing asked, “Do I look terrible now?”

 

Pei Xingxu responded, “How could that be? You look much better… Come on, let’s go.”

 

“And don’t forget Guansheng. Let’s take him out for some fresh air too.”

 

Song Liqing had a certain attachment to Guansheng.

 

Though the little baby couldn’t talk, walk, or bring any tangible benefit, they had once shared the same coffin, both surviving alone and resiliently—just like how he had once been.

 

“I haven’t forgotten. The wet nurse has already taken him to the carriage. It’s warm inside.”

 

“Good!”

 

He was always so thorough and thoughtful, knowing what Song Liqing needed. Everything Song Liqing had to consider, Pei Xingxu would think of first.

 

The carriage was already warmed by a brazier. In the long winters of Loulan, their carriage was cleverly designed to vent the smoke from the brazier outside, keeping the interior from becoming stuffy or suffocating.

 

They arrived at the outskirts of the city, and as soon as Song Liqing stepped off the carriage, he heard lots of laughter.

 

“Where is this? Is there a crowd?”

 

“We’re at the moat,” Pei Xingxu replied.

 

“On the river?!” Song Liqing asked in surprise.

 

“Yes, can’t you hear it? Kids are playing on the ice, and some people are breaking the ice for winter fishing,” Pei Xingxu described the scene.

 

“Is the ice thick enough? The rivers in Jingguo also freeze in winter, but sometimes the ice is too thin, and people fall in. Once, when Jun Qiyu and I were kids, he took me to play on the ice at Dayuan Lake. I didn’t know how, so I stayed on the shore watching him skate a few circles before he fell through a hole in the ice. He couldn’t get out, and I was so scared, crying and calling for help. When he was finally pulled out, he scolded me for being a coward, saying he wasn’t scared at all. But I saw him shivering—he just didn’t want to admit it. Hahaha.”

 

Pei Xingxu turned to look at Song Liqing, sharing in his joy.

 

Song Liqing’s complexion was fair, and under the winter sun, he seemed to blend in with the surrounding snow and ice.

 

“Xingxu.” Song Liqing’s eyes darkened. “When I was little, I never went out to play. I was always doing schoolwork and memorizing books. The only times I ever put down my books to play were when Jun Qiyu dragged me along. You could say that the joy of my childhood came from him… Do you—”

 

“I don’t mind,” Pei Xingxu interrupted. “The more calmly you can talk about him, the more it shows that you’re letting go.”

 

Song Liqing’s heart seemed to melt, and despite the icy surroundings, he didn’t feel cold.

 

“You really don’t mind?”

 

Song Liqing sniffled.

 

“Of course. You only loved the boy he was, but I’ll make sure you love me for the rest of your life.”

 

“You…” Song Liqing squeezed Pei Xingxu’s arm. “Have you loved someone before?”

 

Pei Xingxu coughed. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Your sweet words come so easily. Isn’t that from practice?”

 

Song Liqing laughed first.

 

“Well…” Pei Xingxu leaned close to his ear. “It’s because they come from the heart.”

 

“Then you must be a natural-born romantic,” Song Liqing chuckled. “Why don’t you write a book on how to win someone’s heart, to teach future generations?”

 

“If I can’t be a master of poetry, painting, or literature, maybe I’ll become a master of romance? That would still be remembered in history.” Pei Xingxu clicked his tongue, quite pleased with himself.

 

Song Liqing rolled his eyes. “Stop talking like that, Guansheng is still so young—he might pick up bad habits.”

 

The two laughed together, their breaths mingling in the cold air.

 

At first, Song Liqing had his arm linked around Pei Xingxu’s wrist. But then he reached down and took Pei Xingxu’s hand in his own.

 

Pei Xingxu froze for a moment—this was the first time Song Liqing had initiated physical contact. He quietly turned his hand over and held Song Liqing’s firmly in his palm.

 

“Xingxu,” Song Liqing suddenly asked, “Which day do you think we should choose for our wedding?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Pei Xingxu was stunned by the question.

 

“You mean… our wedding date?”

 

“Mm.”

 

Pei Xingxu’s face broke into a smile, but he was still in disbelief. Amid his overwhelming joy, he opened his mouth several times, unsure of what to say.

 

“Our wedding… our wedding…” Pei Xingxu confirmed again, “Liqing, you’ve agreed?”

 

“Yes.”

 

At this moment, Song Liqing’s mind was clear.

 

He wasn’t acting on impulse, nor was he doing it to spite Jun Qiyu.

 

He simply felt that Pei Xingxu was a good man, worthy of his trust.

 

“Ah… I need a moment to calm down.” Pei Xingxu was a bit flustered. “The wedding date… oh, right, the date. According to the traditions of the Central Plains, shouldn’t it be decided by our parents, with matchmakers, the three letters, the six etiquettes, and then choosing an auspicious day?”

 

“That’s too complicated,” Song Liqing smiled. “The sooner, the better.”

 

Though immense joy surged over him, Pei Xingxu felt like he was dreaming, a beautiful illusion, yet there was a small, uneasy feeling lurking beneath it.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to think it over?”

 

“Time flies, how long can we afford to wait?” Song Liqing pondered for a moment. “The new year is approaching, and you’ll be busy. How about we get married after the new year?”

 

“Alright.”

 

Pei Xingxu no longer hesitated. Perhaps he was overthinking it, feeling so anxious in the face of happiness.

 

He turned around, one hand holding Guansheng, and the other grasping Song Liqing’s shoulder, leaning down.

 

Song Liqing could hear Pei Xingxu’s breathing growing closer, and for a brief moment, everything froze.

 

He took a soft breath and lifted his head, their lips meeting.

 

Pei Xingxu’s kiss was gentle and sincere.

 

But for some reason, Song Liqing’s lips felt numb.

 

They were so numb that he couldn’t move, unable to even respond slightly.

 

Even though Pei Xingxu’s love was so strong, his tenderness so moving, and even though Song Liqing had made up his mind to forget Jun Qiyu, why couldn’t he open his heart to another?

 

Pei Xingxu was the one he should love.

 

Song Liqing tried hard to convince himself, but the more he thought, the more confused he became, as if a bitter poison had spilled into his heart, seeping into his very soul.

 

Pei Xingxu sensed his stiffness and moved away from his lips.

 

“Liqing.”

 

Pei Xingxu wanted to speak, but Song Liqing suddenly wrapped his arms around Pei Xingxu’s neck and kissed him again, pouring all the passion he could imagine into it, using what few kissing skills he had. His actions were no longer graceful, more like a frantic release.

 

Song Liqing hated himself.

 

He hated that his feelings couldn’t deceive him, hated his impulsive nature, and above all, hated that he couldn’t forget Jun Qiyu, no matter how hard he tried to be rational.

 

“I love you… I love you… sob… sob…”

 

Song Liqing began to cry, his shoulders shaking with repressed sorrow and grief.

 

“I’m sorry… Xingxu, I’ve tried my best, I really have… Give me some time, and I promise I’ll forget him completely…”

 

Pei Xingxu’s heart ached as he looked at Song Liqing in such pain. He wiped the tears from the corners of his lips with his thumb.

 

“I know how hard it is not to love someone, Liqing. You’ve done nothing wrong, and you’ve never wronged me.”

 

The gentler Pei Xingxu was, the more guilty Song Liqing felt.

 

“Liqing!”

 

Pei Xingxu’s tone suddenly changed, for he saw blood seeping from Song Liqing’s nose.

 

Song Liqing raised his head in confusion, his breathing labored, his nose clogged, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

 

He touched his lips with his fingers, finding the slick blood already dripping down.

 

“It’s nothing, just a minor episode.”

 

Song Liqing wiped his nose with a smile.

 

He was tired of it—this damn blood exhaustion. If death would come, let it come; he wasn’t afraid! But instead, it kept him lingering, half-alive, torturing him and turning him into a burden, a liability.

 

It kept coming back, reminding him that his days were numbered, reminding him that he had no right to love anyone.

 

“Liqing, don’t move…”

 

Pei Xingxu shouted for the servants, handed Guansheng to someone else, and scooped Song Liqing into his arms.

 

“Don’t make a fuss, Xingxu. I want to see how many more times I can bleed before it finally takes me.”

 

“Don’t say that!”

 

Pei Xingxu’s eyes reddened as he carried Song Liqing toward the carriage.

 

But just then, a dark red Akhal-Teke horse galloped across the ice, blocking Pei Xingxu’s way.

 

Jun Qiyu leaped down from the horse, his face ashen, and he pulled Song Liqing into his arms.

 

“Jun Qiyu!”

 

Pei Xingxu was about to speak, but Jun Qiyu had already drawn his sword, pointing it right at Pei Xingxu’s nose.

 

“Don’t move. Anyone who comes closer, I’ll kill.”

 

Jun Qiyu didn’t shout, but the menace in his flat tone was more violent than the raging winds of the northwest.