Sixty Nine

Zhan gathered all his strength and pushed Yibo away, then stood up from his embrace, frowning with a tightened expression. Yibo burst into laughter, which only left Zhan staring at him in disbelief.

"I figured you hadn't looked at me enough, so I held onto you longer...so you could take in the view to your heart's content," Yibo teased.

Slightly embarrassed, Zhan started climbing down from the hospital bed, heading toward the door. But before he could reach it, Yibo beat him to it, shutting the door and locking it with a quick turn of the key. He then folded his arms across his chest and fixed Zhan with an intense stare...those slightly glassy eyes, changed by illness, now had a haunting softness that pierced right through.

"You really thought you'd leave this room so easily, Mister?" Yibo said, slowly walking toward him. "No more running. Since you've stepped into this room, you owe me...you owe me for the vows we once shared... and for healing this heart full of longing and love."

Before Zhan could react, he suddenly found himself lifted off the ground. He struggled, trying to break free.

"Put me down! I mean it!" Zhan said.

But Yibo only lowered him gently onto the edge of the hospital bed.

"Don't touch me again! And if I'd known you were better, I wouldn't have come!" Zhan snapped, pouting and clearly irritate, while Yibo calmly moved to the other side of the bed, facing him.

He sat down, lifted a brow, and said softly,

"Throw all the tantrums you want...I'll take it. Do what you have to. I'm ready. But know this: you're not leaving this room until my heart is healed."

Zhan's eyes widened.

"What's that supposed to mean? You do realize I didn't come here alone, right?"

"Of course," Yibo replied smoothly. "Just like I know no one will question why you're here. After all, I'm your husband... aren't I?"

Zhan said nothing. He knew no matter what he said, Yibo wouldn't let him go easily. But eventually, someone would come looking for him. He had to leave.

Yibo remained quiet, his gaze locked on Zhan as memories flooded back... memories from when Zhan were just teenager, especially that vivid times they shared. Though they hadn't spent much time together, those moments had carved deep imprints in Yibo's heart.

Zhan hadn't realized how intense Yibo's gaze was until now. Wherever he moved, he felt that gaze following him, tightening around his chest. Yibo's presence filled the room completely.

Avoiding his eyes, Zhan muttered,

"I'm not a fan of being stared at like that."

"Sorry, sir," Yibo said with a smile that could melt stone. He laid back on his side of the bed and continued watching Zhan from the corner of his eyes... making Zhan shift uncomfortably and turn his back on him. Still, he could feel the weight of Yibo's gaze sinking into his skin.

About twenty minutes passed in near silence, until Zhan's phone suddenly rang, cutting through the tension. He grabbed it quickly. Aunt Anu. Before he could answer, Yibo snatched the phone from his hand.

Zhan's mouth fell open in disbelief as Yibo answered the call.

"He's staying, Auntie," Yibo said into the phone, casually. "He's just too shy to tell you."

Zhan lunged forward.

"That's not what I said, Momma!" he protested... but it was too late. Aunt Anu had already hung up.

Just as Zhan opened his mouth to argue, he found himself pulled again into Yibo's arms, held tightly against his chest. Yibo inhaled deeply, taking in his scent.

In a low, gentle voice by his ear, Yibo whispered, "Relax... Just relax."

And somehow, Zhan did.

The tension melted from his shoulders. He stopped resisting. Gently, Yibo continued:

"I'm not the kind of person who enjoys chaos or fighting. Please, let's understand each other. Let go of your anger and judgment.. just until I'm better. I promise you, I'll accept whatever punishment you decide. I swear I won't touch you again if that's what you want. But please... let me recover. Who knows if I'll ever have another chance at life after this?"

Something inside Zhan softened. He said nothing.

Yibo didn't press further. He let go of him quietly, and Zhan returned to the chair he had been sitting on earlier.

Then Yibo picked up Zhan's phone again.

"Let me call Auntie back. You said that's not what you meant, right?"

Zhan stared at him, bewildered by how Yibo spoke so casually, so boldly, as if he wasn't the least bit ashamed. Before he could process it, Aunt Anu's voice came through the phone.

Yibo walked to the window, phone to his ear. Zhan's eyes followed him. Such a tall, gentle man, he thought. A real prince. The resemblance between Yibo and Jianghu struck him suddenly. Even their toes were shaped the same.

He closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed, when Yibo turned around, still on the call. He must've noticed Zhan's stare, because he walked back and held out the phone.

Zhan hesitated before taking it, his fingers brushing against Yibo's.

Aunt Anu's voice came softly through the phone:

"Don't worry, my son. Stay as long as you need. You're doing the right thing. What's done is done, and we believe this too shall pass."

Zhan couldn't find the words to respond. His throat was tight with emotion. Eventually, Aunt Anu ended the call herself.

Three times, the Queen had sent people to check on Yibo. But every time there was a knock on the door, he refused to answer. Zhan didn't say anything either. When he did glance at Yibo with a silent request to open the door, Yibo only closed his eyes, pretending not to notice.

He remained lounging on his side of the bed, watching Zhan with eyes full of quiet longing. The ache in his heart was real. The yearning for Zhan had rooted so deeply within him, he was sure nothing could ever compare to this powerful love.

Around six in the evening, the Queen arrived in person, accompanied by the doctor who had been overseeing Yibo's treatment...this was his second visit. However, the room door was locked, which prompted the Queen to come herself.

To her surprise, it was Yibo who opened the door and casually stepped back inside. She stood there, pretending not to notice him, while Zhan, standing a little way behind, struggled to hide his discomfort.

"Well then… I suppose you'll be discharge now," the doctor murmured quietly with a small smile, making sure only Yibo could hear him.

Yibo frowned a little and responded under his breath, "Come on, Doctor... Since when did I coax him enough, if you discharge me now, he won't stay by my side? Once we're home, it'll be relatives who'll overwhelm me."

The doctor stifled a chuckle so the Queen wouldn't hear.

That same day, Papa had come to visit too, and Zhan watched helplessly as he walked in carrying a perfectly packed travel case filled with his clothes. Zhan avoided Yibo's gaze and pushed his lips forward in mock annoyance. He realized, to his dismay, that everyone seemed to be conspiring to make him stay at the hospital with Yibo.

Prince Yibo, lying in bed and observing everything, felt a wave of quiet satisfaction. For once, the world felt steady... unlike the chaos he'd grown used to.

~**~

Zhan had only stayed two days at the hospital, but in that time, Yibo had practically buried him in affection...most of it subtle, almost all of it uninvited. Every promise Yibo made not to touch him had already been broken. Whenever Zhan opened his mouth to protest, Yibo would tilt his head, soften his tone, and remind him, "I'm a patient, remember?"

If Zhan ever tried to keep his distance, Yibo would immediately pull something sentimental...like asking him to feed him by hand, wash his hands, help him shave the scruffy beard he'd allowed to grow, and more. Even when the Queen was present, Yibo didn't hold back. If Zhan began scolding him, Yibo would switch into his "helpless puppy" mode, melting into faux remorse.

Sometimes, the Queen simply looked away when the Prince got too playful. Being in Zhan's presence seemed to revert him to the age of his twins. Gone was the intimidating, sharp-eyed royal...he was replaced by a mischief-maker who didn't seem the least bit ashamed.

Eventually, when the Queen realized Yibo's "illness" might just be exaggerated, her visits became shorter and less frequent. Most days, she only stopped by in the evening and left shortly after. Zhan himself was beginning to doubt whether Yibo was even sick. Apart from a few tablets he was taking...medications Zhan was convinced could be taken at home...Yibo looked fine. Still, he held his tongue and simply kept watch.

From the day Yibo take his phone, he refused to return it to Zhan, saying, "Sorry, but I'll only accept a new one, bought with my own hands—one that i choose for you myself." Yibo had convinced himself that the previous phone had been a gift from one of Zhan's admirers.

Reluctantly, Zhan gave in. He asked around for new books to distract himself... specifically ones related to his medical studies. Since that day, neither Aunt Anu nor the twins had returned to the hospital.

Today, Zhan woke up in a foul mood. Although Yibo never received his affection with open arms, Zhan had made up his mind: today, he wouldn't let Yibo get to him. He was done being dragged into the Prince's games.

Only Zhan knew what it did to him... each time Yibo touched him, each fleeting romantic gesture. Despite denying it, despite scolding himself, more than once he had found himself locked in the bathroom, struggling to catch his breath, sometimes even…creating his own relief before emerging again. Yibo never knew.

What Zhan didn't realize was that the Prince had already figured it all out....he'd studied Zhan's mood swings and reactions with quiet amusement. But he never let on. He simply enjoyed watching how well his strategies worked.

Zhan always had whatever Yibo might need placed within arm's reach. Everything was prepared, neatly arranged. After helping set up, Zhan climbed up onto one of the cushions by the window, curled up with a book, and began reading.

Yibo, watching him quietly from beneath half-lidded eyes, couldn't help but admire him. Today, Zhan looked especially good. His lips, slick with lip gloss, were impossibly alluring. Yibo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to find Zhan still buried in his book. He smiled to himself. He already knew what he wanted: to keep Zhan close to him, right here, all day long, breathing in that familiar, addictive scent.

"Zhaaan," he called in a soft, sultry voice that sent shivers down Zhan's spine.

Zhan slowly looked up, his large eyes meeting Yibo's...eyes that immediately softened.

Yibo smiled gently, his eyes twinkling as he leaned into his gaze.

"What's this? Are you being stingy with words now? I want to have my breakfast" he asked in a teasing tone.

Zhan immediately broke the eye contact, lowering his gaze to the papers in front of him. Yibo's eyes were too much...too intense to hold.

"Your breakfast is ready. It's right next to you," Zhan said quietly.

Yibo kept watching him for a moment longer before finally reaching for his tray. He didn't say another word as he began eating, but in his heart, he knew...Zhan might be putting up walls, but Yibo would keep knocking them down, brick by brick.

That day, Yibo spent his time devising one silly excuse after another to get close to Zhan. He kept offering small tasks and favors, anything to break the ice and spark some connection. But Zhan wasn't having any of it. He was emotionally withdrawn and unreadable. Yibo felt miserable, restless even...he knew he can't just go and approach Zhan, things could shift. But he also knew it wouldn't work that way. It had to be step by step.

"Zhan, can you help me wash my feet? They're dirty," Yibo said, gently wiggling one foot for effect. Zhan was lounging on the couch, eyes briefly flicking to the foot in question. It was spotless. Not a speck of dust. He almost laughed. Clearly, Yibo was just trying to start something, anything.

Zhan stayed silent.

When Yibo saw he was being ignored, he pouted dramatically. "Fine, I'll just ask Mom to wash them for me."

"Mama's boy," Zhan muttered under his breath.

Yibo caught it. "Hmm? You said something? Should I come there to wash them instead?"

"I didn't say anything," Zhan replied quickly.

Yibo smirked, nodding quietly. He didn't care what Zhan called him...Zhan's presence alone was enough to make him do unnecessary things.

----

Later that afternoon, the Queen arrived. As always, she wrapped Zhan in a warm embrace. There was a new softness in how she felt about him...a bond deeper than anything years of cold civility with Qiantang had ever achieved. Zhan, without fanfare, had done what years of pleading couldn't: he stayed with Yibo, cared for him, even after everything her family had done. He'd set aside pride and stayed, healing what they had all broken.

Even now, Qiantang still hadn't shown her face again. It was always her mother sending food and messages, claiming Qiantang was ill, too sick to visit. But since that last incident, not once had the Queen seen any hint of resentment in Zhan's eyes.

After a warm greeting, she moved on to her son. Zhan threw Yibo a few sharp glares behind her back...his usual routine. Because once the Queen was in the room, Yibo transformed from whiny drama prince to perfectly polished royal heir. He'd straighten his back, lower his voice, and act the part.

As they walked out of the room, Yibo suddenly turned to the Queen. "Mom, my feet are sore. Could you please wash them for me? I can't find anyone willing to do it."

"No problem," she replied kindly, standing up. "Though, truthfully, they look quite clean to me."

Zhan reluctantly stepped forward to take over. He crouched down to do the task while casting another deadly glare at Yibo, who was now biting back laughter, eyes gleaming with smug delight.

After one foot was done, the Queen checked her gold wristwatch. "I need to get back. I have a meeting with some people I promised to see."

Yibo nodded, knowing it must be one of the charities or foundations she oversaw.

With a gentle look toward Zhan, the Queen said, "My son, thank you for everything. Truly."

Zhan gave her a quiet smile, embarrassed by her gratitude.

She bid them farewell and left.

Before leaving the hospital, she stopped by the doctor's office and requested Yibo's discharge papers for the next day. She felt the time had come to finish what she had started. The doctor didn't argue...he, too, was growing weary of the little drama between the prince and "his Zhan."

Once she completed her errands, she went to His Majesty Chamber. The King wasn't there yet, but she didn't care much. She had grown used to his detachment. Years ago, he had always been warm and attentive when she visited his quarters. Now, she couldn't even tell if her presence mattered.

She bathed, come out in a soft towel gown, and scented herself lightly.

Just as she was finishing, the King opened the door and stepped in. She glanced at him through the mirror, then looked away, focusing again on her lotion. A strange weight was lifting from her chest. A fear that had bound her heart for so long was unraveling. For the first time in ages, she felt at peace. Because finally... she'd made things right. She had brought back the family she once shattered. She had begun to heal the distance she created.

He smiled...genuinely...for the first time in a long time. Despite her age and status, she still had some of that youthful mischief in her.

He walked toward her quietly, and gently placed his hand over hers.

She looked at him, eyes soft, but said nothing. She turned back to the mirror, still applying lotion.

"Zhaiye," he said, voice tender.

It broke her.

That voice. That tone. She hadn't heard him speak her name like that in day's.

She turned around and collapsed into his chest, tears falling freely.

The King held her silently, letting her cry. When her sobs softened, he guided her to sit beside him on the bed.

Lowering his gaze, he exhaled slowly. Then he began to speak.

"If you ever want to be a truly leader... someone who protects the rights of every person, rich or poor... then you must lead with fairness. And justice must apply to everyone. Even you. Even me. Even when the cost hurts."

He paused, his voice gentle but clear.

"There's no greater love I could show you, Zhaiye, than holding you accountable when you go astray. That's real love. Not blind loyalty. Not indulgence. I could have stripped you of your title, and by law, I had every right to. But I asked myself... who would take your place? Among all of them, you have the kindest heart. Your mistake wasn't made out of malice, but out of a misguided desire to protect Yibo. You used your power, your wealth, and in doing so, you hurt someone."

He looked up at her now, directly.

"We all make mistakes. That was yours. And I gave you a second chance, hoping you'd see it. And you did. You brought Yibo's happiness, back to his family he belongs to. To the one he loves. That act alone was your redemption."

"Zhaiye... wealth, power, gold...none of it means anything in the end. All of it fades. And when it does, all you have left is your legacy and your conscience. Every child in this country is like a child of mine. I see them as a trust placed in our hands. And what you do to one child can come back to your own."

He smiled faintly. "Yibo... that boy is worth a thousand. Loyal. Quiet. Deep-thinking. He's never once disrespected either of us, even when we gave him every reason to. He always chose to follow our will, even when it clashed with his own. And as his mother, instead of recognizing his patience and sacrifice, you force him into a marriage. You didn't listen."

The King sighed deeply before concluding, "But I thank fate for giving me the wisdom to wait, and the grace to see the truth before it was too late. I'm grateful... more than words can say."

"At the time you stopped him from getting married, if life had decided to test us then...when he was still young, popular, and full of energy, the kind neither you nor I ever had...only fate knows what might have happened," His Majesty began, his tone calm but firm.

"Maybe those beautiful twins wouldn't have been born through marriage. Because their time to come into this world had already been written. That's why sometimes I gave you a little benefit of the doubt for what you did. It was their destined time to be born, and they had to come. They'll be loved by the family, yes, but you know they won't inherit the throne. That will pass on to one of my grandsons through my daughters...or the crown may go to another of my royal relatives."

"A person isn't too young for marriage. Once they reach 18, it's enough. We placed a meaningless restriction on ourselves...one that has led to the collapse of our families and communities. Even now, we're still hesitant to acknowledge and correct our mistakes."

"Why is early marriage criticized, but early intimacy isn't? No belief system ever fixed an age for marriage. Throughout history, people have married young. It's only in modern times that circumstances have changed expectations. But back then, it was the norm."

He paused before continuing, now more serious.

"Never let outsiders provoke you into doing what's wrong. I know far better than you how many enemies surround you.... left, right, north, south, all around. You were chosen to stand above them because of your resilience. Don't let yourself become a spectacle, a target for mockery or ridicule."

He leaned forward slightly.

"I'm glad you recognized your mistake, Zhaiye. I hope it serves as a lasting lesson for you."

Zhaiye nodded deeply, her expression soft and full of regret. She slowly slid off the bed and knelt before him.

"From the day I arranged that marriage, my spirit hasn't known peace. I've lived every day since in fear and guilt... what if things go wrong? What if I ruined his life? I believe the inner unrest I've faced is part of my punishment. And beyond that... everything that followed. I regret it all... truly. And I hope you, too, can forgive me. Please, forgive me."

He looked at her with kindness.

"I forgive you. Let us all forgive, and move forward."

"Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling.

He reached out a hand and helped her up from the floor.

"Now get up...quickly....before the staff sees the mother of the Prince and the King Grandmother on the ground," he said with a soft smile.

She chuckled gently, blinking back tears.

"I'm not anyone special when I'm in front of you. All those titles only matter when I'm among others, not here. But I heard you say 'mother of the Prince and grandmother of the future King'... What do you mean by that, Your Majesty?"

His Majesty smiled widely, showing the same perfect teeth Yibo had inherited. He was always proud of Zhaiye... she had a way of speaking that calmed storms, a rare gift that brought peace to a man's heart.

"I mean that Yibo chose his happiness over the throne," he said softly.

"And you, of all people, know that a kingdom cannot have two kings. Zhan is not a woman, so he cannot be Queen. And he can't be King... we already have one. But the people have embraced their twins as heirs. I've attended countless meetings about this matter. One of those twins will be named Crown Prince. I told Yibo, and he agreed. He chose Zhan over the throne."

HOSPITAL ROOM

Silence fell again after the Queen left the room. But Yibo's entire body felt lifeless. The way Zhan was gently washing his feet sent tingling sensations through him...it felt like soft strokes or crawling heat. He relaxed fully, leaning his back against the pillow and continuing to watch Zhan.

The only thing his body craved in that moment was Zhan's warmth. And he knew deep down that he didn't want to get better unless Zhan was part of his healing. That thought alone made him let out a quiet, stifled whimper and squeeze his eyes shut.

Zhan, startled, lifted his head to look at him. After a long moment of silence, Zhan moved his lips slightly and asked, "What's wrong?"

Yibo didn't respond. He just shut his eyes tighter. The silence made Zhan uneasy. He set the towel aside and stepped closer to his side.

"I asked… what's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Before Zhan could say another word, he suddenly found himself pulled into Yibo's arms. Yibo held him tightly, breathing a long, relieved sigh as if his soul had just found peace. He placed Zhan's hand over his chest.

"Right here… this is where it hurts, my Prince." He pressed Zhan's palm against his heartbeat and then laid his own hand over Zhan's.

The warmth from Yibo's skin traveled straight to Zhan's bones, making him shut his eyes tightly as if trying to absorb and understand everything he was feeling.

"I don't even know how to describe what I feel anymore, Zhan. Every single day since I was born, I've never longed for anything like I long for you," Yibo whispered, his voice low and trembling. "I haven't known you long. But what we've been through together...these moments...feel like they've built a whole lifetime of love between us."

"Please," he murmured, gently lifting Zhan's chin so their eyes locked. "Let me love you. Even if you don't love me back… just give me the chance to try. If I fail, I'll walk away without complaint. But I want the chance."

Zhan felt like screaming. Everything in his body was reacting to the raw honesty in Yibo's voice. His head spun. Yibo leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Zhan's ear as he added softly:

"Please... if you won't give me your heart, at least let me try to win it...no matter what it takes."

Zhan's entire body felt like it was melting into the moment. Just as Yibo was about to whisper something else, their moment was shattered by the sound of the door being pushed open...followed by a loud thud that drew both of their attention.

Yibo slowly lifted his head. Zhan pulled away slightly and turned too.

Standing at the door was a young woman...tall, fair-skinned, and visibly shaken. Her eyes were wide, glistening with tears as her entire body trembled. She looked like someone who had just walked in on a nightmare.

Zhan didn't recognize her.

Yibo did.

Qiantang.

He glanced at her once, then looked away, his expression unreadable. Zhan sat up properly, fixing his rumpled clothes.

Yibo's face hardened. His voice was low, calm, and cold.

"My Prince, come finish washing my feet."

Zhan looked at him, confused and a little curious. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell Yibo to finish it himself but saw Yibo's eyes... and they weren't the same as a moment ago. The softness had vanished, replaced by cool authority. His jaw tensed slightly, and Zhan could feel the weight of the command behind the calm words.

Unable to argue, Zhan moved forward and resumed what he was doing, bending beside the bed as he gently resumed washing Yibo's feet.

Suddenly....

"PRINCE!"

The girl's voice rang out, loud and broken. They both turned to her again.

Tears were running down her face. She shook her head in disbelief, as if her heart had just been torn open in front of her. Without another word, she spun around and fled down the hall, her footsteps quick and uneven.

Yibo watched her go for a brief moment, then closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated.

Zhan glanced at him, puzzled by the sudden coldness and by the mystery of the girl. He thought.

Who was she? What was her connection to Yibo? Why had she reacted like that?

Yibo didn't say a word. He didn't move again. His expression gave away only one thing: he was deeply upset.

So Zhan stayed silent and simply finished his task...gentle, precise, and quiet. Yibo remained still the entire time, his face blank but his heart clearly troubled.

NB

Four chapters remaining. 😁 4565 words, half a long chapter. 🙄😬

Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛