Shi Jinnian · Chat

That night, you went to see him. In the verbal clash at court earlier that evening, you had gained the upper hand, but deep down you felt you might have pushed him too far, so you decided to bring something over at night to smooth things over. The lamps in Chenyu Pavilion were still lit. The moment you stepped beneath the corridor, the door was pulled open from within. Shi Jinnian stood behind the door, his dark navy outer robe loosely draped over his shoulders, his hair crown slightly askew, and a thin sheen of sweat glistening at his temples. Without a word, he reached out, caught you by the wrist, and yanked you inside. The door shut behind you, the latch falling into place with a soft click, yet a sudden shiver ran down the back of your neck. "Shi Jinnian? What's wrong with—" Before you could finish, you realized something was terribly amiss. The palm gripping your wrist was shockingly hot; his fingertips against your skin felt like glowing embers. Looking up at him, his neck was flushed crimson all the way to the tips of his ears. A haze of moisture veiled his eyes, and the way he looked at you was worlds apart from his usual composed and aloof demeanor. "Do you have a fever?" Frowning, you reached up to check his forehead. He didn't dodge; instead, he took a step forward, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you tightly into his embrace. The grip was heavy, almost unreasonably demanding, resting his chin right into the crook of your neck as his scorching breath brushed against the back of your ear. "...Don't move." His voice was muffled, hoarse beyond recognition. You froze on the spot, hand hanging in midair. This was the first time you had ever seen him like this—someone who would usually flinch and turn away at the slightest touch was now clinging to your entire body as if terrified you would slip away. Patting his back, you cast a glance over at the table. The spread of dishes was virtually untouched, the wine flagon more than half empty, and on a small side dish lay the remnants of a medicinal soup—one commonly prepared in the Imperial Noble Consort's palace to soothe his mind. Your mind pieced it together, and within moments, you understood. Fury began to smolder within your chest, though you kept your expression composed. You reached up to gently knead the nape of his neck, coaxing him like a ruffled cat. "Alright, alright. I'm not leaving." He didn't believe you; his arms tightened their hold even further. Freeing one hand, you gave a subtle signal toward the door. The guards stationed along the corridor understood and silently retreated into the distance. He remained silent, only loosening his grip after a long while and stepping half a pace back. Yet his gaze was still unfocused, looking at you through a hazy fog. Trying to stand upright, his balance wavered, and his hand instinctively reached out for yours again. You didn't pull away. Catching his hand, you held on tightly. Half-supporting and half-carrying him, you guided him toward the thermal pool. Almost his entire weight leaned against you, his blazing body heat burning through your layers of fabric. His steps were unsteady, yet his grip on your wrist remained relentless, white-knuckled, as if clutching his final lifeline. "Shi Jinnian, we're here." You settled him onto the low couch beside the pool. He made no sound, his body listing sideways until you swiftly caught him. Up close, he looked even worse than before—the corners of his eyes flushed an unnatural crimson, the heat spreading down his throat to his collarbones, his breathing ragged and scorching, veins bulging slightly along the back of his hands. Frowning, you untied the sashes of his outer robe to let him breathe. The instant your fingers brushed his collar, he snapped his eyes open and clamped his hand over yours. "...Don't leave." His voice was so hoarse it was barely recognizable. "I'm not leaving," you coaxed patiently. "Get in the water and soak. I'll stay right beside you." He didn't let go; instead, he pulled you toward his chest. Stumbling half a step, you were locked securely in his arms once more, his burning forehead pressed against your temple, his heart pounding like a war drum. He rarely ever spoke words of vulnerability, yet right now, his reason burnt away by the drug, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, calling your name over and over. "user... user..." You patted his back, fury continuing to swell inside you. Who had served him those dishes, who had poured that wine, and who had picked this exact night—you knew clear as day. —His "dear" imperial brother, the Third Prince. The Third Prince's birth mother had passed away early, and he was raised under the Empress's name; on the surface, he was amicable with Shi Jinnian, but in truth, they were bitter rivals. Seizing upon the lingering turmoil from your dispute in court and the sudden imperial betrothal, he had used the pretext of a "conciliatory family banquet" to send Shi Jinnian this table of poisoned delicacies. You looked down at the person in your arms. The same Sixth Prince who usually turned away if you stepped half an inch closer, refusing to admit defeat even when the tips of his ears flushed scarlet, was now slumped entirely against you—scalding, disheveled, and clinging to you desperately, as if letting go meant losing you forever. You reached up to brush the sweat-dampened hair away from his temples, softening your voice to a gentle murmur. "Shi Jinnian, can you hear me?" He struggled to open his eyes to look at you, his gaze unfocused, yet he still managed a nod. "You can't just endure this drug through sheer willpower," you said. "Get in and soak; I'll guard you here. I've already handled the people outside. Not a single word about tonight will leak out." He hugged you even tighter, nuzzling his face into the hollow of your neck. His voice was hoarse beyond recognition, thick with a deep, vulnerable grievance: "It hurts..."