Repaying a Favor?

Ah, right. When he was gravely injured and near death, she had promised to repay his kindness to keep him alive.

But now, as the man eagerly barged into the inner courtyard and seated himself along her usual path, was he here to return the favor—or to claim it?

Chu Ruoyan shook her head, dispelling those wandering thoughts. “Is the court not keeping you busy?”

After the upheaval caused by An Sheng, how could he possibly find the time to slip away?

“Busy, indeed. I was up all last night, then rushed to the palace at dawn and didn’t leave until noon, only to make a brief stop at the Guardian Temple afterward.”

At Yan Zheng’s words, Chu Ruoyan frowned. “So you haven’t slept at all?”

Seeing the concern knit between her brows, Yan Zheng felt a warmth in his chest. “Don’t worry. Back in the military camp, going days without rest was routine. This is nothing.”

“That was then. You’ve only just recovered from a near-fatal wound, and the lingering effects of the Qiji poison still plague you. How can your body endure this strain? Come inside at once!”

Without waiting for his reply, she seized his hand and pulled him along. Yan Zheng had no choice but to follow her into the chamber.

The room was suffused with the fragrance of storax, her favorite scent.

As she pressed him onto the bed, Yan Zheng inhaled the soothing aroma lingering on the sheets and chuckled softly. “You’re really letting me sleep here?”

In the past, Chu Ruoyan would never have allowed it. But now, with death looming over her, why cling to trivial proprieties?

“Right here. Now sleep!”

Yan Zheng closed his eyes briefly before reopening them. “I’m not tired.”

“Then I’ll stay with you. At least rest for a while.” With that, she settled beside the bed and took his hand in hers.

A faint smile curved Yan Zheng’s lips as he thought to himself—just a little longer before letting go.

Yet, cradling her delicate fingers and breathing in the storax perfume, his mind gradually unwound, and he drifted into slumber…

Chu Ruoyan gazed at his sleeping face for a long while before releasing a quiet sigh.

What should she do…?

A single month—she couldn’t give him a child, yet she might very well take away all his hope.

Yan Zheng had already died once. How could she make him endure a second loss?

One hour passed, then two.

By the time dusk draped the sky and lanterns flickered to life, Yan Zheng awoke to the soft glow of candlelight in the room.

The woman beside him still held his hand, her other arm propping up her head as if she, too, had dozed off.

The dancing candlelight cast a gentle radiance over her face. His heart stirred, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

“…?”

Her eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, only for the man to close the distance again, this time capturing her lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

Unlike before, he took his time—tracing the shape of her mouth, then tentatively seeking entry.

With her days numbered, she yielded, letting him lead.

Their breaths mingled, and when they finally parted, both were left panting.

“Ah Yan…”

His voice was rough, his dark eyes smoldering with barely restrained fire. “I want to marry you.”

Chu Ruoyan smiled. “Didn’t you already speak to my father about it last night?”

“That was a proposal. But I want to hear you say it yourself…”

For the first time, Yan Zheng sounded nervous.

Neither the world’s condemnation nor facing An Sheng had ever made his heart pound like this, lodged in his throat.

Yet the woman merely lowered her gaze and whispered, “Yes.”

Joy surged through him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down onto the bed.

Chu Ruoyan gasped. “Yan Zheng!”

Realizing his impulsiveness, Yan Zheng immediately released her. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

They weren’t yet wed. No matter how fiercely desire burned, he wouldn’t cross that line.

Flustered, Chu Ruoyan straightened her robes and swiftly changed the subject. “What—what did the Emperor say about An Sheng’s case?”

At this, Yan Zheng’s expression cooled. “No charges of treason. Officially, he died of illness.”

Chu Ruoyan’s eyes widened. “So the rebellion is just swept aside? Such a major incident—how can there be no accountability?”

A shadow flickered in Yan Zheng’s gaze. “The remnants of Imperial Son-in-law Cao’s faction were blamed. They allegedly murdered the Fifth Prince and incited the palace coup. All have been executed.”

Chu Ruoyan fell silent.

She’d expected the Emperor to shield his own, but to conceal such a staggering upheaval…

Then again, it made sense. A royal princess leading a revolt and killing a prince—if word spread, the imperial family’s reputation would be ruined.

And since An Sheng was already dead, allowing his sister to keep her dignity in death was, in its own way, a brother’s final mercy…

“And you…?”

She studied Yan Zheng with concern. After all, he’d once vowed to offer An Sheng’s head in tribute to his fallen brother.

But the man only gave a faint smile. “Don’t worry. An Sheng died by the sword my brother gifted me. In a way, it was his blade that struck the final blow. I’ve buried the sword at his grave. He’ll understand.”

Chu Ruoyan nodded, then recalled another matter. “What about that man who poisoned you with Qiji last night—the one named Song? Any leads?”

“None.” Yan Zheng’s brow furrowed. “Old Xu and the Shadows combed the area overnight, but by the time they reached the Shuntian Prefecture, the man had vanished. Those who’d interacted with him knew nothing beyond his surname—Song, and a given name, ‘Jia.'”

“Song Jia?” Chu Ruoyan echoed before realizing. “‘Jia’ as in ‘false’—it’s not even his real name!”

Yan Zheng nodded. “He was likely hired to strike when we and An Sheng were weakened. I had the Southern Barbarians’ embassy checked. Meng Ji fled before the palace coup, probably fearing An Sheng’s rebellion would implicate her. So this ‘Song’ likely isn’t tied to her. More likely… it traces back to the previous dynasty.”

The previous dynasty!

The Yun Clan!

“But didn’t Emperor Yunning die without an heir?”

“He had no sons, but don’t forget his brothers.” Yan Zheng’s tone turned grave. “Especially his second elder brother—the one crowned Regent King after ascending the throne. A brilliant strategist who commanded such respect that not just our current rulers, but even the Southern Barbarians, Western Frontier, and Northern Rong tribes dared not move against him. It was only after he and his consort perished during a provincial visit that the Murong Family dared raise their banners.”

Chu Ruoyan understood. Someone from the fallen imperial line must be seeking restoration.

“Do you think—”

Before she could finish, two sharp coughs interrupted.

The door swung open, revealing Chu Huaishan’s displeased figure. “A man and woman alone at this hour—what exactly are you doing?”

Chu Ruoyan immediately lowered her head, while Yan Zheng stiffened awkwardly. “L-Lord Chu…”

Being caught by his future father-in-law at this hour was far from ideal.

Chu Huaishan fixed him with a stare. “Well, Prime Minister, given your many duties, I won’t detain you further. But remember the rules—from now until the wedding, you are not to see my daughter again.”

“What?!”

No meetings until the wedding? How long would that take?

Was this his father-in-law’s idea of a test?

Chu Huaishan savored his flustered reaction before feigning solemnity. “It’s an old custom of Great Xia—to avoid ill omens, the betrothed must not meet before the bride’s departure. For the sake of tradition, I trust you’ll endure this separation.”

Yan Zheng clenched his fists, barely stopping himself from cursing, “Who the hell came up with this rule?”

Then, to his surprise, Chu Ruoyan spoke up. “In that case, Prime Minister, let’s hold the wedding within the month.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep