4. Chapter 4

Meng Zhi really adores Prince Jing. He always has, in the way he is fond of his talented younger cousins in the military: admiring and caring but yet professionally distant. For a while that served as self-protection for both of them. Meng Zhi was a young rising star still fresh out of the Chiyan Army when the capital was awash with the blood of “traitors,” and of course Prince Jing was close to Prince Qi and the Lins. Both had reasons to be targeted and it was luck they came out with their heads intact.

(He sometimes wonders about his third uncle on his father’s side, who was the one who got him transferred from the Chiyan Army to the Imperial Guard with no warning and, really, no reason. Meng Zhi had enjoyed the army and expected to stay with it for years, if not his entire career. But he had enough sense of self preservation not to ask, then or now, and his uncle moved wholesale out of the city not long after to become a minister to a small town’s governor in the west, where he still lives peacefully. Conveniently, Meng Zhi has always thought.)

So, it is with disappointment and shame that he realizes he is jealous of the prince.

It is an emotion unworthy of him, but it hits hard when the prince comes in through the damn secret tunnel that Meng Zhi himself had built for his husband’s convenience.

Because every time the prince appears, Mei Changsu comes alive.

Or rather, Lin Shu is reborn.

While they do not sleep together, Meng Zhi and Mei Changsu spend a lot of time in close proximity by default. He’s become aware of just how sick Mei Changsu is, even if no one will tell him the specifics, and he’s also learned to read his beloved for even the most minor changes of mood...which, to be honest, are not very minor. For all that Mei Changsu presents a dignified and humble presence to visitors, the arrogant and hot-tempered Lin Shu lives on just fine under that veneer. (Meng Zhi appreciates the irony of finding himself walking on eggshells around his husband in ways he never bothered with his wife, and he’s pretty sure she’s enjoying all of this at his expense.)

So for whatever show Mei Changsu puts on for Prince Jing, it cannot hide from Meng Zhi how much Lin Shu loves his Jingyan. It’s as obvious as sunrise, and how Prince Jing can’t see it, Meng Zhi doesn’t know. And people call him oblivious?

His wife, as usual, reminds him of what is important. In a dream he sees Yin Yin and their infant son, sitting in a large field of flowers on a sunny day. They are happy, laughing together at a butterfly bouncing past them, and do not notice Meng Zhi nearby. His heart breaks to see them because he misses them so much, but they are at peace as they are, joyful and content.

This is what matters, Meng Zhi thinks to himself when he wakes: that the ones he loves are happy, with or without him. His own misery and grief serves no one, and he must not stand in the way of their joy, in this life or any of their next lives. He thanks his wife for not re-entering the wheel of rebirth just yet so that he can benefit from her wise council, then gets up and sets his mind to the real problem: convincing Mei Changsu to be honest with Prince Jing.

It is far more difficult than any field of battle he has seen.

He does his best to push the two idiots together; to beg Mei Changsu to tell Prince Jing his true identity; to give them time alone; to drop ridiculously obvious hints on the Prince’s head. Prince Jing lives up to his “water buffalo” nickname and Mei Changsu pretends he does not notice Meng Zhi’s efforts for the most part. It is very infuriating.

But then it is New Year’s Eve, and despite Mei Changsu’s ability to keep Marquis Yan from, literally, blowing everything up, five of Meng Zhi’s men and two eunuchs die for no damn reason that he can figure. He is, of course, held responsible for failing to prevent the attack.

They were good men, whom he had personally assigned to the high-status task as a reward for their dedication and loyalty.

The twenty lashes do not hurt as much as the taste of failure.

---

He’s lying in bed, bored and in pain. Dr. Yan’s tender mercies were not particularly tender nor merciful, but rather efficient and pragmatic. Still, it is so much better than the low-ranking and likely inexperienced palace physician who would have been assigned to Meng Zhi had he been kept to his suite in the barracks. Instead he is in his large bedroom in his opulent manor with a first class doctor on call and servants to bring him hot food and drink and to help change the dressings. He has definitely been through worse.

“How are you feeling?” Mei Changsu pauses by the door. It occurs to Meng Zhi that his husband has never actually been in his bed chambers. He is very disappointed that it took this much blood and pain to get him through the door.

“It feels like I was lashed twenty times,” Meng Zhi says with a sigh, shifting the pillow he is lying on. “Please come in, husband.” He gestures toward a chair that has been placed by the bed.

Mei Changsu steps in, but his brows knit together. “You do not have to call me that when we are in private.”

“Ah, but it is habit! You will have to endure it,” Meng Zhi chuckles.

Mei Changsu gives him a look that he cannot read but is at least not angry (Meng Zhi has been getting that thoughtful and, frankly, somewhat disconcerting look a lot lately). He leverages himself down slowly into the chair, which Meng Zhi takes to mean it has not been a good day for him. “You are looking better than when they dragged you in. I was quite worried.”

“Ah, you know me. This little injury is nothing! You should not push yourself just to visit me. Dr. Yan has my care in hand.” He sighs as he lowers his head back down on his hands, trying not to feel giddy about the idea that Xiao Su was worried about him.

Mei Changsu pauses, a careful moment of stillness that always means something in Meng Zhi’s experience, but he’s rarely sure what.

“We have matters to discuss,” he says instead, then explains his analysis of what happened, finishing with a surprising instruction: “You need to forget about solving the case.”

Meng Zhi balks at that, and also the suggestion that he offer to resign his position at the end of the month, but Mei Changsu won’t be swayed despite knowing who the perpetrator is behind the murders.

“But Xiao Su!”

“What’s the matter? Can’t stand the idea of stepping down from your position?” Mei Changsu’s eyes spark with challenge.

“I am not a man who craves a high position and power,” Meng Zhi says, disappointed that he has to say it. “But if I lose my position, who will be able to help you the way I can, from inside the palace? I am closer to the emperor than any of the princes. Eunuch Gao trusts me above all of them.”

Mei Changsu’s expression changes to one of fond approval, then pride. “Do not trouble yourself. You are helping me by taking good care of your backside.”

Meng Zhi almost swallows his tongue but Mei Changsu does not seem to notice the off-color implication of what he said, too distracted by his own thoughts. He leans in, dropping his voice, his entire demeanor tense and angry. “Since they dare to touch you, I won’t let them off. If they want to use pugilist power, I will let them know who is in charge of the pugilist world.”

He then picks up the bowl of medicinal broth brought in earlier and spoon feeds him, slowly and wordlessly. He is very clearly lost in thought and Meng Zhi is in pain so the silence is as comfortable as it can be between them. Meng Zhi is reminded of a time in a much poorer household, when Yin Yin did the same after one of his rare punishments, carefully feeding him the broth she had made herself with minimal destruction to their tiny kitchen. These, he thinks, are what memories of a marriage are made of. It means nothing to Mei Changsu but to Meng Zhi, it does mean something. Perhaps everything. It may be all he has, when this charade is over.

Which is why, long after his husband leaves the room, Meng Zhi thinks about Mei Changsu’s vicious promise to make their enemies pay for hurting him. He knows Mei Changsu is possessive of the people he considers “his,” a character trait that has been a hallmark from the time he was Young Marshal Lin Shu through his leadership of the Jiangzou Alliance. This is not new. But to see it focused on him, Meng Zhi, who is nothing more than a tool to be used in greater plots and plans...it unsettles him for reasons he cannot pin down. There is a risk here, he thinks, but he cannot figure out what.

Meng Zhi does not sleep easy that night for reasons that have nothing to do with pain.