Chapter 5

Zhang Zhao awkwardly pulled his hand back. “I’ll get His Highness some water.”

There was a bitter taste in his mouth—deeply unpleasant. Since Chu Xi didn’t stop him, he turned to go, but found himself in a dilemma. Chu Xi was still lying there, not moving a muscle, and Zhang Zhao was inside. To leave, he’d have to climb over Chu Xi. But he didn’t dare ask him to move aside, so he just stood there, eyes fixed on Chu Xi’s body, at a complete loss.

Chu Xi noticed his persistent stare and frowned knowingly. Just as he thought—the man was far from innocent. Saying no with his mouth, but his eyes and actions said something else entirely.

With a sigh, Chu Xi finally moved his legs as a gesture of refusal and said, “You’re sick. Stop having thoughts about things that shouldn’t be done.”

Things that shouldn’t be done?
Zhang Zhao, quick as ever, instantly understood. Chu Xi was warning him not to step over his body—an act of grave disrespect. Zhang Zhao quickly acknowledged and carefully climbed out of bed from the gap Chu Xi left, without even brushing against him.

Zhang Zhao’s health was never good to begin with. After burning up for so long, his earlier burst of energy was nothing more than sheer willpower. The moment his feet hit the ground, the world spun, and he collapsed. Even then, he remained lucid enough to know he couldn’t fall on Chu Xi, so he desperately threw himself forward.

Chu Xi blinked several times, still feeling unwell, and closed his eyes to rest. The moment he did, someone crashed heavily onto him. He grimaced in pain, but out of habit didn’t cry out. Opening his eyes, he saw Zhang Zhao sprawled on top of him, flat on his back.

Damn it—he knew this man wasn’t sincere. Just rejected him a moment ago, now pulling a new trick? Where did he even learn so many methods?

Chu Xi reached out to push him off, but he had no strength. The gesture didn’t even convey his annoyance, merely a soft prod. Zhang Zhao didn’t feel it at all. He slowly got up, quickly apologizing, “Your Highness, forgive me. I didn’t mean to fall on you.”

Chu Xi rubbed his aching belly and glared. “You want to crush me again?”

Normally, a glare from Chu Xi was terrifying. But not today. His eyes were red, his face flushed, and he was still rubbing his belly—there was no threat left in him. Zhang Zhao, mind addled by fever, thought Chu Xi was asking if he planned to fall again.

He hurriedly shook his head. “No, I won’t, I’m better now!”

“You might be, but I’m still in pain,” Chu Xi glared again. No one had ever dared fall on him before.

Zhang Zhao hesitated, watching him rub his belly, and asked, “Shall I help rub it for you, Your Highness?”

Ha, just as expected—still scheming. Waiting for him to offer!

Chu Xi’s mouth felt bitter, and he didn’t want to argue further. “Just go fetch some water.”

“Oh.”

Zhang Zhao responded and turned to go. After a few steps, he realized—water? What kind of water?
Turning back, he saw Chu Xi’s flushed skin, sweat soaking his temples.

Ah.
He’s pampered and delicate—he must want to bathe.

So Zhang Zhao went out to prepare bathwater.

Chu Xi heard the door open and glanced over instinctively, figuring Zhang Zhao had gone out to fetch tea. He didn’t stop him.

The courtyard had been cleared of servants, so Zhang Zhao wandered around for ages, unable to find anyone and too afraid to knock on doors. Eventually, Shao Ning, who had stayed up late, came out upon hearing the noise and spotted him pacing.

He cleared his throat to get Zhang Zhao’s attention.

Zhang Zhao, visibly anxious, looked over and politely asked, “Excuse me, where do you boil hot water?”

Shao Ning asked, “You want to drink water?”

“No, His Highness wants to bathe.”

Bathe? Shao Ning looked up at the night sky—it was already the middle of the night. Bathing? Then he remembered how Chu Xi had acted earlier and asked, both curious and speechless, “You two are still going at it in your condition?”

Zhang Zhao completely missed the implication and nodded earnestly.
Shao Ning sighed. “So… after you finished, did the fever go down at all?”

Zhang Zhao filtered out the unfamiliar parts of the question, thought for a moment—it did seem a little better after the medicine. He nodded. “Yes, it helped.”

Shao Ning was speechless. He didn’t want to say more, but as a doctor, he still had to remind him, “You should really take it easy. It’s bad for the body.”

Thinking of how violently Chu Xi had been coughing earlier, Zhang Zhao nodded. “I’ll remind His Highness to be careful.”

To not choke again.

Shao Ning sighed. Neither of them seemed the type to listen. Well, Chu Xi certainly wasn’t. Now there were two troublemakers. After pointing Zhang Zhao in the right direction, he was going to return to his room—but then saw Zhang Zhao staggering like he’d fall at the slightest breeze. He couldn’t let the Crown Prince’s first bed companion die like that, so he stayed to help.

It took the two of them half an hour to boil the water. Then they got Feng Li to carry it to the East Wing. When they arrived, Shao Ning immediately saw Chu Xi rubbing his belly and asked Zhang Zhao, “What happened to His Highness?”

After the earlier conversation, Zhang Zhao felt more familiar with Shao Ning and spoke more freely, though still meekly, afraid of upsetting Chu Xi. But as Shao Ning was a doctor, he had to tell him.

“I accidentally fell on His Highness earlier…”

Shao Ning froze, looking like he’d seen a ghost. Their prince looked so commanding—turns out he was the one on the bottom? Oh heavens, what a shocking reversal.

Feng Li, who was about to carry the water inside, also froze when he heard that. The two men exchanged glances and then stared at Zhang Zhao.

Zhang Zhao, growing increasingly guilty, lowered his eyes. He knew he’d messed up—and had already apologized, though he didn’t know if Chu Xi accepted it.

Chu Xi was lying inside with his eyes closed. Hearing the noise, he knew Zhang Zhao had returned and grumbled, “What took you so long?”

His voice was dry and hoarse, like he’d overused it. Hearing that, Shao Ning and Feng Li looked at Zhang Zhao in a new light. That small body… such capability?

Feng Li carried the steaming bucket inside and left. Chu Xi glanced at it, then looked back at Zhang Zhao with clear annoyance. “Can’t you keep your little schemes to yourself for a while?”

Zhang Zhao blinked in confusion. His little schemes? He only had one: to latch onto a powerful branch in the palace. He’d settled on Chu Xi for now—how could he possibly stop?

Chu Xi, getting no response, sighed heavily. He was finally starting to accept reality: there was no reasoning with someone whose head was full of obscene thoughts.

“I want to drink water,” he said bluntly.

Zhang Zhao quickly poured him a cup and brought it over. Chu Xi watched the fluid motion—so there was water in the room. Yet the guy had made him wait so long! He glared in frustration. “Feed me.”

Human joy and sorrow are never truly shared. What Chu Xi saw as fury, Zhang Zhao interpreted as impatience. But the water was scalding, and he didn’t dare keep Chu Xi waiting, so he used the oldest method to cool it: brought the cup to his lips to blow on it.

Chu Xi’s alarm bells started blaring. There it was again—another shameless trick! He was about to feed him mouth to mouth!

“No—I’ll do it myself,” Chu Xi quickly stopped him.

His hand already halfway up, Zhang Zhao had no choice. “It’s a bit hot…”

Liar. Chu Xi was sure he saw through it immediately. If it were hot, how was he holding it so calmly?

“Give it here.”

Zhang Zhao hesitated. It really was hot. He’d already hurt Chu Xi’s stomach—what if he burned him now too? He’d never forgive himself.

Zhang Zhao was on the verge of tears. “Your Highness…”

Again with that—Chu Xi felt like trumpets were blasting in his head. He glared, muttering silently: Scheming little crybaby in a pretty face.

Zhang Zhao saw Chu Xi’s eyes roll back, looking like he’d just died, and panicked. Heart pounding, he reached out to check his breath—but his hands were trembling so badly that he jabbed his fingers right into Chu Xi’s mouth.

The searing heat made Zhang Zhao cry out, “Shao Ning! Shao Ning!”

Feng Li, who had been standing by, asked urgently, “What’s wrong?”

Zhang Zhao swayed but stayed conscious. “His Highness… is burning hot!”

Feng Li knew this couldn’t be good. What now? He rushed to call Shao Ning over.

Shao Ning had thought the fever would ease after the medicine, but it had only worsened. And Zhang Zhao finally collapsed too—‘thud’—hitting the floor hard. The sudden noise gave Shao Ning a fright.

Feng Li quickly lifted Zhang Zhao onto the bed. The two now lay side by side, red as boiled shrimp. Feng Li grew anxious. “Got any ideas?”

Shao Ning’s brow furrowed tighter than ever. “I’ll go to the pharmacy. Keep watch on them. Use cold water to bring the fever down—don’t stop until it drops.”

Feng Li didn’t know medicine, so he just followed instructions. He brought cold water, placed cloths on their foreheads, and replaced them again and again. It helped… barely.

By morning, things had only worsened.

Even worse news came: a wave of fevers had broken out in the palace. The imperial physicians confirmed it was an epidemic, though the source was unknown. Like wildfire, the sickness swept through the imperial city. In comparison, the fire at the Southern Pavilion and Chu Xi’s fever seemed trivial. No one even brought it up again.

The palace issued a lockdown. No one was allowed to move about without orders. With no clue where it had started, guards were dispatched to clean each palace daily. No one dared go near the Ruyi Pavilion, but this time was different—no one could be exempt. And with Chu Xi sick, no one was stopping them.

The guards came to Ruyi Pavilion last. Shao Ning was treating Dongli’s fever with acupuncture at the time. He was starting to burn up himself, so his hands were unsteady. Dongli screamed in pain, making the guards break out in cold sweat.

Word spread fast in the palace. Everyone already knew about the fire and Zhang Zhao provoking Chu Xi. Hearing those screams, they figured Zhang Zhao wouldn’t live much longer.