TRM Chapter 10

The predicted downpour arrived at noon, heavy raindrops pounding against the green jade steps outside the palace, splashing up tiny fountains of water. The mint plants Zhou Jingyuan had recently ordered planted swayed and danced under the rain, their leaves washed to a fresh, vibrant green.

Qiao Guanxing, who had spent the entire previous night fleeing the palace, his heart suspended on a thread of tension, now felt a strange sense of relief at being caught. Anyway, at least for now, the Crown Prince didn’t seem intent on punishing him, only confining him to the Eastern Palace’s bedchamber.

The bed was soft, the silk quilts smooth, and the sound of rain outside the curtains was soothing. Deciding to stop overthinking, Qiao Guanxing embraced a pillow and promptly fell asleep on the Crown Prince’s bed.

Busy with state affairs, the Crown Prince did not return to the East Palace until the afternoon. When he saw that Qiao Guanxing was still asleep, he didn’t have him woken up. Instead, he took off his damp cloak, silently stood at the bedside, and gazed at the sleeping face of the person on the bed.

Those bright, lively round eyes were now peacefully closed, occasionally fluttering their long eyelashes.

Those bright, lively eyes were now peacefully closed, the long lashes occasionally fluttering. As if drawn by an irresistible force, Zhou Jingyuan reached out, his hand hovering mid-air before gently brushing Qiao Guanxing’s cheek.

He was still here.

Zhou Jingyuan exhaled softly, reassured. This little liar was still here.

His beloved had bribed a guard with hundreds of taels of silver to escape the palace—silver Zhou Jingyuan himself had given him.

Never in his life had Zhou Jingyuan suffered such humiliation. His anger still simmered, and he was determined to make Qiao Guanxing remember this lesson.

The rain grew heavier, the wind rattling the open windows. The damp air, carrying a chill despite the summer heat, seeped through the beaded curtains.

Zhou Jingyuan instinctively moved to close the window but stopped when his gaze fell on the sleeping Qiao Guanxing. “I won’t close the window for a liar,” he muttered under his breath.

Qiao Guanxing, unaware of the Crown Prince’s sulking, rubbed his cheek against the pillow.

He wasn’t used to Zhou Jingyuan’s jade pillow, it was too hard. He furrowed his brow and shifted his position, making a few dissatisfied murmurs in his sleep.

Zhou Jingyuan started to regret it a little. “…Is it cold?”

He gazed down at Qiao Guanxing for a moment before firmly saying, “I am the Crown Prince, and the Crown Prince does not utter idle words.”

He wouldn’t close the window for the little liar.

Instead, he opened a nearby cabinet, pulled out two extra quilts, and draped them over Qiao Guanxing.

As he bent over to adjust the blankets, Zhou Jingyuan couldn’t help but gently touch Qiao Guanxing’s cheek.

The soft, warm flesh felt reassuring to the touch. It seemed like Qiao Guanxing wasn’t cold anymore. Zhou Jingyuan pursed his lips, knowing that now would be the moment to pull his hand back, as that would be the proper thing to do. But for some reason, he hesitated for a few seconds before reluctantly withdrawing.

Suddenly, Qiao Guanxing grabbed his arm.

The Crown Prince’s arm was far more comfortable than the jade pillow—firm yet yielding. Qiao Guanxing clung to it, finding a cozy position and drifting back to sleep, leaving Zhou Jingyuan blushing and muttering under his breath, “Let go.”

Despite his words, Zhou Jingyuan made no move to pull his arm free. He allowed Qiao Guanxing to hold onto him, leaning against the headboard. After a moment, he added with a frown, “I’m still angry with you.”

Outside, the rain gradually softened, the droplets hitting the damp soil around the mint plants, creating small, rhythmic splashes.

Qiao Guanxing stirred, the fresh, damp scent of rain filling his senses. His lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes, still resting his head on Zhou Jingyuan’s shoulder.

His eyelids were thin, the crease of his double lids pronounced upon waking, giving him a dazed, unfocused look.

“…Your Highness?”

Zhou Jingyuan turned his face away, withdrawing his now-numb arm and standing up with a cold snort.

His anger was unmistakable.

Qiao Guanxing froze for a moment before realizing that he was still sleeping on Zhou Jingyuan’s bed.

This was bad.

His superior would probably throw him into the dungeons immediately.

“Your Highness!”

He scrambled out of bed, bowed hastily, and headed for the door. “I’ll return to my own quarters to sleep.”

“…”

As he opened the door, the damp, cool breeze brought a touch of clarity. He paused, then turned back to ask softly, “Um… Your Highness, where are my quarters?”

The Crown Prince walked toward him, slammed the door shut with a heavy hand, and coldly said, “Right here.”

In this position, they were incredibly close. Qiao Guanxing’s back was pressed against the door, nearly trapped in Zhou Jingyuan’s embrace.

A faint, familiar scent of mint filled his nose, and Qiao Guanxing couldn’t tell if it came from Zhou Jingyuan’s time at the Astrology Tower or from the mint in the East Palace courtyard.

The hidden corners of his heart were filled with this cool, subtle scent, causing an unexpected surge of warmth.

Qiao Guanxing instinctively wanted to take a step back but found there was nowhere to retreat. He had no choice but to raise his head and meet Zhou Jingyuan’s gaze.

Swallowing hard, he knew he had little room to argue but ventured cautiously, “…This isn’t appropriate.”

In truth, Qiao Guanxing hadn’t fully considered why it “wasn’t appropriate.”

In the past, he would have treated sharing a room with Zhou Jingyuan as part of his job, even appreciating the Eastern Palace’s luxury as a perk.

But somewhere along the way, he could no longer define their relationship as simply superior and subordinate.

Every exchanged glance, every accidental touch, the shared scent of mint from the courtyard…

These moments were like tiny droplets gathering in a cloud, brewing a storm within Qiao Guanxing’s heart.

Zhou Jingyuan, unwilling to entertain any objections, frowned and retorted, “What’s inappropriate about it?”

He looked down at Qiao Guanxing, pausing before adding, “Someone who flees the palace without permission has no right to their own quarters. Or do you plan to run away again?”

Of course, Qiao Guanxing didn’t dare attempt another escape. So he stayed obediently in Zhou Jingyuan’s bedchamber.

Truthfully, aside from being confined, life here was quite comfortable—filled with good food and drink.

But for Zhou Jingyuan, the Crown Prince burdened with endless state affairs, it was different. The mess left by the emperor kept him busy, leaving little time for rest. Yet he insisted on returning to the Eastern Palace every noon to share a meal with Qiao Guanxing.

Most days, they barely exchanged a few words before Zhou Jingyuan had to rush off again. But he stubbornly persisted in coming back.

Seeing his superior juggle his duties and the constant commute between the study hall and the Eastern Palace, while he himself lounged in leisure, filled Qiao Guanxing with guilt.

One night, as Zhou Jingyuan slept, Qiao Guanxing propped himself up on one elbow, studying the exhaustion Zhou Jingyuan usually masked during the day.

A strange feeling welled up in Qiao Guanxing’s chest—heavy and aching, as if a boulder pressed on his heart, making it hard to breathe.

He couldn’t help whispering, “Your Highness?”

Zhou Jingyuan didn’t open his eyes, merely humming in response after a moment.

Qiao Guanxing ventured cautiously, “Perhaps you shouldn’t return to the Eastern Palace at noon.”

He reached out, daring to smooth the furrow between Zhou Jingyuan’s brows that even sleep couldn’t erase. “…It’s too tiring.”

Unbeknownst to him, the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

“Is that so?”

Zhou Jingyuan was silent for a moment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with such words from Qiao Guanxing. The little liar had said similar things before, and Zhou Jingyuan couldn’t tell what was genuine and what was false.

So he chose not to believe.

Opening his eyes, he turned to look at Qiao Guanxing, his voice low. “Are you worried about my exhaustion, or do you just not want me here, so you can escape again?”

Qiao Guanxing was at a loss for words, remembering how he had once used such lies to further his escape plans. He felt as if he’d shot himself in the foot.

Under Zhou Jingyuan’s gaze, he could only weakly protest, “…I wouldn’t.”

Not this time, at least.

Zhou Jingyuan studied him for a moment before closing his eyes again, murmuring, “I don’t believe you.”

Despite his words, Zhou Jingyuan couldn’t help replaying Qiao Guanxing’s concerned words and the look in his eyes.

His heartbeat quickened, a subtle joy spreading through him.

He told himself he could afford to believe—just this once.

Realizing he had completely lost his superior’s trust left Qiao Guanxing disheartened.

Lately, no matter the topic, any suggestion he made was met with Zhou Jingyuan’s suspicion that he was plotting another escape.

When Zhou Jingyuan was busy with state affairs, it was manageable. But on the rare occasions he had free time, he insisted Qiao Guanxing stay by his side, as if he might vanish past the palace guards and out of the capital at any moment.

Qiao Guanxing sighed. He truly had no such intentions now.

Over time, he had come to realize that in this unfamiliar world of the Great Zhou, Zhou Jingyuan was the only person who made him feel safe and secure.

His original reasons for wanting to escape no longer held. He knew now that Zhou Jingyuan would never kill him or force him to become a eunuch.

In that case, Qiao Guanxing thought, working for the Crown Prince for the rest of his life didn’t seem so bad.

Reflecting on Zhou Jingyuan’s constant wariness, Qiao Guanxing suddenly had an epiphany.

He understood now.

This was the distrust of a superior!

As a dutiful subordinate, it was his responsibility to bridge this gap of suspicion.

His new work goal was clear: regain Zhou Jingyuan’s trust!

That evening, the summer heat lingered, a warm breeze carrying the scent of flowers from the Eastern Palace courtyard.

With the recent chaos of state affairs finally settling, Zhou Jingyuan returned early, planning to bathe and then enjoy a proper dinner with Qiao Guanxing—something they hadn’t done in days.

The servants quickly filled the jade bath with hot water.

Zhou Jingyuan undid his robes, revealing a lean, muscular chest, his broad shoulders and narrow waist marked by faint scars from battles long past.

He had barely stepped into the bath, the water reaching his thighs, when he heard Qiao Guanxing’s voice call out brightly, “Your Highness!”

Looking up, he found Qiao Guanxing standing at the edge of the bath, their eyes meeting as Qiao Guanxing’s gaze swept over his exposed torso. Both froze, their faces flushing simultaneously.

Zhou Jingyuan, who often used anger to mask embarrassment, quickly draped a damp white underrobe over himself and frowned sternly. “What are you doing here?”

Qiao Guanxing, snapping out of his daze, held up a towel and declared eagerly, “I’ve come to help you bathe!”

If Zhou Jingyuan was so worried about him running away again, Qiao Guanxing would strictly adhere to the prince’s orders to stay by his side. This would demonstrate his commitment and restore the trust between them, resolving their workplace crisis!

Zhou Jingyuan clenched his fists at his sides, taking a deep breath before replying, “I don’t need your help.”

But Qiao Guanxing was determined. He removed his outer robe, stepped into the water, and began diligently scrubbing Zhou Jingyuan with his towel, seeking approval. “Your Highness, how does this feel?”

As he spoke, his hand rested on Zhou Jingyuan’s chest, where a scar ran across the firm muscle. The touch sent a tingling sensation through Zhou Jingyuan, a warmth spreading deep within.

“…”

Zhou Jingyuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as a bead of condensation rolled down his jaw and landed on Qiao Guanxing’s hand.

He grabbed Qiao Guanxing’s wrist, torn between pulling it away and holding on.

Finally, he sighed hoarsely, “Qiao Guanxing, what are you doing?”

Qiao Guanxing looked into his eyes earnestly. “I’m telling you I’ll stay by your side.”

Zhou Jingyuan’s gaze snapped up, his eyes locking onto Qiao’s. He opened his mouth but found no words.

Qiao Guanxing’s hand still rested on his chest.

The steady heartbeat beneath his palm made Qiao Guanxing’s lips curve into a soft smile, his cheeks tinged with pink. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Mianmian, I won’t leave again.”