allonlinenovel Chapter 142 When will you be able to see me?
Chapter 142 When will you be able to see me?
The entrance to the post station was quiet, with only a few guards standing there.
The second-floor window was half-open, and a figure in purplish-red could be vaguely seen standing in front of it.
Because of the distance, I couldn't see their faces clearly.
All I could see was that hand, hanging by the window, its fingertips seemingly holding something.
Su Yaoyao looked for a moment, then lowered the carriage curtain.
These two cousins—
One that is impossible to guess.
Someone who is hard to understand.
Xiao Chenyuan was unfathomable. You didn't know what he would do next, or how much scheming lay hidden beneath his calm expression.
And He Qing...
Su Yaoyao recalled the way he shielded her that day, his injured right arm, and his words, "He's fine."
She knew his identity was not simple, and that there were some deals between him and Xiao Chenyuan that she was unaware of.
But his feelings for her seemed to go beyond mere calculation.
She couldn't see through it.
I don't want to guess.
Having been given a second chance at life, she gained many things she could never have imagined in her previous life.
She cherishes the present and wants to protect it.
But for some reason, she always had a feeling...
She seems to have always belonged here.
The carriage gradually disappeared into the distance.
From the window on the second floor of the inn, those peach blossom eyes followed the carriage until it disappeared around the street corner.
He stared at it for a long time.
"Master," he said softly, his voice as low as a sigh.
When... will you be able to see me again?
Suddenly, a familiar pain shot through his chest, and he uncontrollably spat out a mouthful of blood.
He Qing struggled back to the bed, her body curled up in pain.
He gripped the mattress beneath him tightly, his knuckles white and veins bulging.
Cold sweat soaked through his undershirt, his hair was wet and clung to his face, and he clenched his teeth so tightly that he couldn't suppress the muffled groan that escaped from his throat.
pain.
It hurts so much.
That familiar, excruciating pain surged from every part of his body, like a million ants gnawing at his flesh.
My fingers trembled as I touched the corner of my eye.
In the candlelight, the beauty mark under her eye was a bewitching red, like a drop of congealed blood.
This was the poison his father had planted in him before he went to Xiliang.
"This is for your own good," that's what my father said at the time.
"In Xiliang, you can't control people without some tricks up your sleeve. This poison flares up once a month, requiring an antidote. Only I know the formula for the antidote."
He had no choice at that time.
Just like his entire life, he has never had a choice.
"This mole..." he murmured softly, his voice broken, "is proof that I'm still alive..."
Another wave of excruciating pain struck him, and he arched his back, his fingernails scraping the ground with a piercing sound.
"...It is also a shackle that I can never get rid of."
He trembled as he pulled the epiphyllum earring from his pocket.
The jade was warm and smooth, and he held it in his palm.
It's cold.
But holding it now, it actually feels a little warm.
He closed his eyes and pressed the earring to his lips.
Her face appeared before my eyes.
"Master..." he murmured, "Do you know... I can't hold on much longer..."
pain.
It hurts even more than the poison in my body.
He gripped the earring tighter, curled up into a ball, and trembled violently on the couch.
Just then, the door was kicked open.
A figure flashed in, walked a few steps to the bedside, and without saying a word, pried open his mouth and stuffed a pill into it.
The medicine went down my throat, carrying a familiar bitter taste. The lingering, dull pain gradually subsided.
He Qing opened her eyes and saw who it was.
"...Why are you here?"
He Cong stood in front of the couch, looking down at him with a blank expression.
"Let's see if you're dead or not," he said, his tone cold and hard.
He Qing didn't speak, but slowly propped himself up and leaned against the edge of the bed. His cold sweat hadn't dried completely, and his face was frighteningly pale, but his gaze towards his younger brother softened a little.
"By the way," He Cong pulled another porcelain bottle from his sleeve and tossed it into his arms, "I'm bringing you this month's antidote."
He Qing caught the porcelain bottle, but didn't open it; he just held it in his palm.
He Cong's gaze fell on his right arm—where gauze was wrapped and bloodstains were faintly visible.
"Fight poison with poison?" His voice grew even colder. "Father's medicine isn't so easily countered. Do you want to die in agony?"
He Qing looked down at his injury and smiled faintly.
"He won't die."
He Cong stared at him, then suddenly asked, "Where did you go that day...?"
He Qing looked up at him.
The brothers' eyes met in the dim candlelight.
He Cong didn't look away, and asked, word by word, "Where did you go on the day of the winter hunt?"
He Qing didn't speak.
"Did you go to see that prince?"
silence.
He Cong stepped forward, his voice low but unable to contain his emotions: "Brother! Do you know how long Father has been planning this? Do you know how many people have died because of this? You—"
He paused, his eyes turning slightly red.
"I'm your real brother!"
He Qing looked at him, at this younger brother who had followed her since childhood, always stubborn on the outside but soft on the inside.
He knew how much He Cong had done over the years, that he had taken on the dirtiest and most tiring work, and that although he said he would fight for it, he was always the first to rush in front of him to protect him whenever there was danger.
"I know," He Qing said softly.
He stood up, walked to He Cong, and raised his hand—
She stroked her younger brother's head.
Just like when we were kids.
He Cong froze.
"But I also know," He Qing looked at him, her eyes filled with an unprecedented tenderness, "that you care about me."
He Cong's eyes reddened, and he abruptly turned his face away.
"...Why say all this?"
He Qing withdrew his hand and remained silent for a moment.
"Acong," he said softly.
He Cong did not turn around.
"Promise me one thing."
"...What?"
He Qing watched his retreating figure, uttering each word clearly:
"Don't touch Su Yaoyao."
He Cong suddenly turned around.
The brothers' eyes met again. He Qing's gaze was calm, but beneath that calmness lay a seriousness and...pleading that He Cong had never seen before.
"If you harm her," Heqing said, "I will hate you for the rest of my life."
A deathly silence fell over the tent.
The candlelight crackled and burst into a tiny flame, shattering the silence.
After a long silence, He Cong said in a hoarse voice:
"...I've got it."
He turned and strode away.
The curtains were drawn, separating the inside from the outside.
He Qing stood there, listening to the footsteps fade into the distance, and finally slowly closed her eyes.
---
As He Cong stepped out of the post station, a gust of night wind made him realize that his back was completely soaked.
He stood in the darkness, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
pain.
But that pain is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
He recalled that fleeting crimson figure in the woods that day.
He saw it, though no one else noticed.
Helian Qing's appearance perfectly blocked the black-clad man's last escape route. He wasn't there to kill the Crown Prince. He was there to help the Crown Prince.
For that woman.
For the woman who made his brother risk his life.
"elder brother……"
He Cong closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, all that remained in his eyes was coldness.
Since the older brother can't bring himself to do it—
Then he will come.
For my brother's antidote.
For my brother's life.
That old hag is coming back.