After witnessing a bloody duel firsthand, Jian Qiao fell ill.
Whether it was in his previous life or this one, his health was poor. Cold, sweltering heat, or emotional ups and downs could make him unwell. But he still chose to live even if it was difficult, no matter the hardships.
He’d been in desperate situations twice. He understood better than anyone what a terrible thing death was.
“My lord, I’m worried you’ll faint in the middle of the celebration. You look awful right now,” the red-haired manservant said worriedly as he helped Jian Qiao get dressed.
“How rude would it be if you fainted! Is there any way to put off this audience?” The brunet manservant brought a pair of polished boots.
Jian Qiao had covered his burning forehead with a towel soaked in ice water so he was unable to wave his hand. “No one can duck the king’s banquet. Bring me a bottle of smelling salts, I think I’ll be able to hold on.”
He was running a high fever. It felt like his brain was in a boiling pot of water. Scalding hot air rushed everywhere, making every muscle in his body ache.
To be honest, he really didn’t have much confidence he’d make it through the entire banquet.
“If I feel like I’m going to pass out I’ll head to the foyer right away. I shouldn’t make a fool of myself,” he muttered.
The carriage arrived and the two manservants had to help him up.
The dazed Jian Qiao had no idea how he managed to walk into the banquet hall. He kept a bottle of smelling salts in his hand and sniffed it when he needed to. The pungent smell could restore his clarity for a moment. In the midst of his muddle, the attendant brought him to Charles III and Queen Moen.
At once he knelt down on one knee to express his loyalty to Charles III, and the huge number of treasures he presented made the extravagant king laugh heartily.
Charles III’s body was even thinner than Jian Qiao’s, and the deep purple color of his lips revealed his abysmal health. If he continued to live without restraint he would soon meet God.
Jian Qiao had guessed correctly—Gloria was in the midst of a storm.
After straightening up, Jian Qiao took Queen Moen’s slightly outstretched hand and dropped a light yet reverent kiss on the back of her white, jade-like hand.
Queen Moen smiled and said a few words, and the pale blue jewel set in her crown was the very Angel’s Tear sent by Jian Qiao. This showed she’d accepted Jian Qiao’s allegiance.
With no more than a glance the two reached a certain tacit understanding.
There were many nobles waiting to see the king and queen behind him, and Jian Qiao had to leave. Queen Moen had prepared a facilitator for him. The gesture was certainly thoughtful.
Without a prominent nobleman from a distinguished background to introduce him, Jian Qiao simply couldn’t fit into the glamorous and prestigious world of high society. He would only be able to stand awkwardly in place, drinking one glass after another.
In the process, there might be people who’d come forward to engage him in small talk, but such individuals were in the same situation he was, they were marginal people who weren’t accepted in high aristocratic circles. Staying with them wouldn’t bring any benefit to Jian Qiao, and the primary reason he’d attended the king’s banquet was to gain benefits.
Of course, if he were thick-skinned enough, he could squeeze into other people’s conversations and interject a few words. But if he did that he’d soon become the clown of the party.
Queen Moen had obviously accounted for Jian Qiao’s situation, so the facilitator she prepared for him was Duke Lewis. This elderly man, who was over sixty years old, was renowned throughout Tortus. He was a great lord who stood on equal footing with the Duke of Grande.
Cardinals, princes, lords, and ministers of state, as long as Jian Qiao was willing to make their acquaintance, Duke Lewis could help him into circles most people couldn’t access.
This was the benefit of the “Angel’s Tear”.
Jian Qiao was quite satisfied with this. As he walked side by side with Duke Lewis through the banquet hall he sensed a dangerous gaze locked on him.
Following this gaze, he wasn’t surprised to find Rege. The man was holding a glass of champagne and standing with a group of aristocrats who were dressed extremely sumptuously.
These people seemed out of place compared to everyone around them.
For the sake of their dignity, the other guests fastened every button on their clothes, ironed every crease, combed every strand of hair. Glamorous, spotless, elegant, and noble was the spirit they tried to express.
But this group was different. Lapels half open, hair loose, drinking wine and laughing riotously. Gentle and affectionate noble ladies surrounded them; attentive and courteous attendants followed them; charming and graceful actresses prostrated themselves.
A large crowd flocked around them, fawning over them, giving them supreme pleasure.
They were so carefree, and so dissolute.
From this Jian Qiao deduced that this group of people must be the most powerful nobles in the entire continent. They had everything, that was why they were so wanton.
Sure enough, Duke Lewis glanced at the group and whispered, “The man standing beside Rege is the king’s brother, Prince Andrew. If the king is unable to produce an heir, he’s the first in the line of succession.”
Jian Qiao blinked, quickly realizing the importance of this Prince Andrew.
How much time did Charles III have left? The answer to the question was already in everyone’s mind.
And Andrew understood very well there was a ninety percent chance he would become the next king. If he tightly controlled the women around Charles III and did everything he could to prevent them from getting pregnant, his chance to ascend the throne would reach a hundred percent.
Jian Qiao took a closer look at Prince Andrew and couldn’t help but sigh in his heart. Judging from the man’s behavior he was even more decadent than Charles III.
Just then, Rege raised his glass to Jian Qiao in greeting.
Duke Lewis asked in a low voice, “Would you like to go over and meet them?”
Jian Qiao returned a slight bow to Rege, then refused, “No, you can take me around first.”
That group exuded an aura which was both energetic and frenzied, it was something he could never fit into.
Just looking at them from a distance, Jian Qiao already had a headache.
The Duke of Lewis praised, “You made the right decision. Prince Andrew is a madman. If he likes you, he’ll get you drunk with the strongest wine, and if he doesn’t like you, he’ll expel you from the party at once. So we should go to him last.”
Jian Qiao’s pace stalled for a moment, then a strong feeling of palpitations arose in his heart. Prince Andrew certainly couldn’t be avoided, but Jian Qiao’s body couldn’t withstand the other party’s type of hospitality.
If I refuse to drink, I’ll offend the future king, and if I don’t refuse, I’ll get seriously ill. How should I choose?
Jian Qiao gently spun the guard ring on his thumb. His expression looked very calm but his heart was panicking.
He followed Duke Lewis around and made a lot of contacts, but hadn’t figured out how to deal with Prince Andrew.
Whatever will be, will be. Eventually the two stood before Prince Andrew.
“Are you the Earl of Flowervale? The legend really doesn’t match the reality,” Prince Andrew said vaguely.
Jian Qiao’s heart couldn’t help but jolt. He had no idea what his legendary self was said to look like and wondered if his real self would provoke the disgust of these people.
Prince Andrew suddenly took Jian Qiao’s right hand, stroked the back of his hand back and forth with the pad of his thumb, and said in a low tone, “My dear, you’re more beautiful than the legend. You know, when I saw you, I actually felt my eyes brighten. You must stay and have a good drink with me tonight, I really hate that we didn’t meet sooner.”
It was obvious he was interested in Jian Qiao. His ambiguous actions went beyond the boundaries of normal interaction.
Jian Qiao immediately realized this Prince Andrew’s temperament was different from others. He liked men. If he really stayed to drink with him and got drunk, Jian Qiao could imagine what would happen next.
What’s more, Jian Qiao had reached his limit. His forehead was on fire, there was a burning in his throat, every cell in his body was frying in pain.
If he forced a glass of wine into his stomach he would definitely lose half his life.
Jian Qiao was desperately trying to figure out how to get out of it.
Just then, Rege extended his hand. In an arrogant manner he said, “You haven’t greeted me yet.”
Jian Qiao was speechless with astonishment. Only when offering a hand to be kissed would someone take the initiative to extend their hand, but this custom only existed between a woman and a man.
Rege hadn’t mistaken his gender, right? No, that was absolutely impossible, how could a male lion act like a female?
Jian Qiao felt even dizzier.
He had absolutely no idea what he looked like now. He’d buttoned his collar to the very top, his close-fitting black formal attire tightly pinched his waist, his boots wrapped around his slender, straight legs, and his strict yet elegant dress made him look as ascetic as a monk.
But at the same time, his lips, cheeks, and the corners of his eyes were dyed crimson because of the high fever he was running, his eyes brimmed with dewy light, and while he gazed at others so earnestly and attentively, his eyes were misted over.
This was the expression only a fairy would reveal, pristine and pure, but also otherworldly.
Rege was staring at Jian Qiao with a gaze fierce enough to eat someone.
Jian Qiao was still in a daze. The dumbfounded expression increased the sense of innocence about him.
All of a sudden Rege grabbed Jian Qiao’s hand from Prince Andrew and pressed it to his lips, branding it with a long kiss. He even stretched out his tongue and lightly licked the back of Jian Qiao’s burning hand.
The wet and slippery touch finally made Jian Qiao’s chaotic brain wake up. He jerked his hand away and sternly asked, “Just now, did you treat me like a woman?”
For a great nobleman who possessed a fief, it was very humiliating to be molested by another nobleman as if he were a woman. Not to mention they were still at the king’s banquet with everyone watching.
Rege grinned and unapologetically admitted, “Yes, you’re more beautiful than a woman, I just can’t control myself.”
Prince Andrew thought he was a fellow traveler and let out a loud, excited laugh.
The highest-ranking person had laughed, so the people around them naturally also burst into laughter.
Jian Qiao’s face was completely gloomy. He could no longer maintain his gentle mask for this group of debauchers, and he immediately turned around to leave.
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He walked away and wiped the back of his licked hand vigorously, with an expression of nausea on his face that made him want to vomit.
Duke Lewis, fully understanding his feelings, said comfortingly, “You should go back first or they’ll come and pester you all night. Queen Moen has gone and no one wants to stay, so no one will blame you.”
Jian Qiao looked around, only to find that after Queen Moen had retired, many of the great noblemen also left, leaving only a group of arrogant and lascivious dandies in the banquet hall.
“Then I’ll bid you farewell, thank you for your care. Until we meet again,” Jian Qiao said gratefully.
Duke Lewis patiently said a few more words to console him, then personally escorted him outside to the carriage ground.
Shutting the carriage door, isolated from prying eyes, Jian Qiao immediately collapsed into the chair. Every breath he exhaled was full of burning sparks, and beads of sweat streamed from his forehead and hair and evaporated into a white mist.
He felt like he was melting in a furnace, about to burn to ash. He desperately needed a sip of warm water, a handkerchief of ice, a quilt, maybe even a bucket to hold the vomit.
He was cold and hot and unbearably afflicted.
He wanted to call out to the manservants to bring over these items at once, but his throat was too red and swollen to make a sound.
Just as he was about to drown in the superheated air, two servants pulled open the carriage door and delivered a bottle of warm water, a bucket of ice, a wet towel, and a soft quilt.
The dying Jian Qiao was saved. His forehead was covered with an ice handkerchief, his body was wrapped in a quilt, and his mouth was filled with warm water. He sighed with utter exhaustion, “How did you know I needed these things?”
The red-haired manservant urged the coachman to leave the palace quickly while he replied, “All these items were sent by Lord Rege. He also gave you a letter.”
Rege?
Jian Qiao was stunned. He struggled to stretch out his hand from the quilt, and it took a few tries for his slightly trembling fingertips to open the letter, but he saw a line written on it in a flying dragon dancing phoenix script: 【I think what you need most is an excuse to leave.】
So the blatant liberty he’d taken before was just to give him a suitable reason to leave? He’d seen he was running a high fever?
Jian Qiao folded up the letter, propped his hand on his groggy forehead again, and fell into silence. The feeling of nausea and the desire to vomit had miraculously disappeared.
After about three or four minutes, he leaned back weakly in his chair and gently pressed his fingertips against the corner of his eye. At some point a little starlight appeared in his eyes.
The starlight shone softly for a long time.
TL Notes:
whatever will be, will be – 该来的总会来 – “what should come will always come”, a Buddhist saying