What was she doing?

She could barely even think with the pain piercing every part of her body. She was paying the price for letting her guard down after taking care of the first three fuckers.

And now she was sitting with the Emperor, with her head on the man’s shoulder, her ear dangerously close to the man’s neck, keenly listening to the man’s pulse. Her hands - smaller than the man’s but no less rough - wrapped around his hands tightly, her muscles strained and visible from the effort. She knew she had significant strength when she tried. Was it hurting the Emperor? It didn’t seem like it. He seemed completely calm, hands holding hers without complaint, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. She may not care much for the rules in this place, but she knew touching the Emperor was a big deal.

She wished she had the strength to let go. She wished she did not feel every vein and bump on the man’s hands. She wished she did not hear the man’s quickening pulse. She wished she did not feel the man’s breath ghosting over her neck. She would honestly take the feeling of that sharp, stabbing pain in every place where those shards of wood pressed into her and the agony that cut into her very nerves whenever the physician behind her took out a shard.

But she did not let go. She was tired of holding herself up. The man’s warmth and his sturdy body were like a wall she could lean on. Perhaps it was the pain, perhaps it was her own weakness, but she took the relief it offered.

She suppressed her screams in her throat, not wanting anyone to hear, not wanting to look any weaker than she already did. Every time a shard would come out, she would open her mouth, and let out the breath she had been holding back along with her screams. Every time it would come out ragged and broken, her chest shuddering in effort.

The Emperor was silent as he held her hands, offering her silent support - something she hadn’t had ever since she was thrown into this world by that damned portal. She always had to be the strong one, the one supporting. When was the last time she had been this vulnerable? Probably with… him.

This time, the pain did not come from her back, but from her chest, long buried memories surfacing. The man she lost, the man she had yet to find … the man she had given up all hope of finding. She pushed those thoughts down. She did not need to lose herself right now. Not in front of these men.

She focused, listening to the man’s pulse, listening to his steady breath, feeling his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. The present - she had to focus on the present. That man was lost. She had her son now. She had this … man, whatever he was to her. She had this situation where she needed to be the shield and the sword for Manu. She could not afford to stray.

So, she compartmentalised all those unnecessary things and allowed herself to focus on the man’s presence, on the pain coursing through her body, on the warmth of the man’s breath, on how close their bodies were, on how her breasts were only inches away from the man’s chest. Crude observations, she knew, but they allowed her mind to drift away from unwanted thoughts and come back to the present. She kept suppressing her screams, kept heaving breaths every time a splinter or a shard came out, and kept clenching her teeth against every bit of pain she felt.

And finally, the last shard came out. She slumped against the man in front of her, letting out breaths so shaky that they made her entire body shudder. She still had her head on the man’s shoulder. She didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to spend that energy. But she couldn’t keep using the man as her personal rock.

So, she made to lift her head. Just as she applied the little bit of pressure needed for the motion, she felt one of the man’s hands release hers and come up to her head, gently pressing on the back of her head.

“You do not need to move just yet, Ya’er.” She felt the man’s throat vibrate as he spoke, the rumble sending shivers down her spine. “It is alright to rest.”

That large hand gently stroked her hair. It wasn’t anything massive, just a little movement on the top of her head. A soft caress. It was … comfortable. Soothing. It made her want to melt. She’d already shown her vulnerable side to the man. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to be so for a few moments longer?

She allowed herself to relax and listened quietly as the man spoke.

“Is it done?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The Physician behind her replied. “Now I just need to clean the wounds and bandage them. I might have to stitch some of them.”

Fuck. Here come fucking alcohol and needles.

She tried not to tense up. She knew from experience that being tensed made it a lot worse. The man must have felt something because she felt that caress again. The man’s fingers gently patting her head, the fingers moving back and forth on her scalp. His other hand, still around her own, has its thumb gently rubbing across the stretch between her thumb and forefinger.

She exhaled softly and braced herself for the burn. And oh boy, did it burn when she felt that cold liquid pouring onto her wounds.

“Fuck!” She growled into the man’s collarbone as her. Her teeth clenched so hard that you could hear them grinding against each other. Damn, this never got any less painful.

Okay, Samaya. No more weakness.

She bore through the pain, once again suppressing her groans and screams of agony as the physician cleaned her wounds and stitched them up. She could feel her throat itching and her eyes burning, knowing that tears were gathering in her eyes for the pain. Nope. Not doing that. She pressed her eyes against the man’s clothes, letting the fabric soak up the tears.

And finally, finally, the Physician was done.

“Lady Qing,” the man said softly. “It is time to bandage your wounds. You must straighten.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Exhaling into the man’s dragon embroidered robes, she gave a small nod and finally lifted her head. The hand that had been on her head until now finally let up and she lifted her head, only to find those golden eyes looking back at her. For a moment, it seemed like … they were shining, as the man stared unerringly at her, eyes boring into hers. Then the moment passed and both of them averted their eyes, unable to describe the indiscernible feeling crackling between them.

The man got to work, applying cold ointment to her wounds. Finally, those burning, flaming wounds filled with agony calmed down, soothed by the cooling ointment, allowing her some relief. And then the man gently wrapped the bandages around her body, Samaya lending a hand to help.

When the man was done, he stepped back and bowed. “I shall prescribe some medicine to help the wounds heal faster. The bandages have to be changed every few days and the ointment re-applied at the same time. I shall come back then.”

Samaya nodded. “Understood.”

“Dismissed,” the Emperor said not a moment later.

The Physician gave another deep bow and made his way out. Samaya looked back at the man. They were still close, close enough that she could see the flecks in the man’s pupils, close enough that she was practically on his lap.

She cleared her throat and gently tugged her hand out of the Emperor’s grasp, which he allowed. Gently pressing her other hand on the bed to anchor herself, she slid back a bit, putting some distance between them.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

The last half an hour felt surreal. She had not imagined that she would ever be so close to the man, no matter the reason. She had not expected her own reaction to the proximity. She could not control it. She did not like what she could not control. Best to just push it all away.

“How are you feeling?” The man asked, instead of responding to her awkward expression of gratitude. His voice seemed stoic, almost blank, as if the past few moments had not happened. Good. It was better this way.

Then… why did she feel disappointed?

“Better,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “The ointment worked wonders.”

Those wounds should take about … a month to properly heal. She wondered if she would have to put a pause on her exercise and training. Probably. For a while, at least.

Samaya felt a hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Blinking, she traced the hand back to the Emperor, who looked at her with that unreadable expression on his face. “Do not worry. We shall find whoever did this and make them regret ever being born.”

She exhaled softly, Well, that was a promise she could get behind.

Samaya gently pulled her head away from his hand before speaking “I would like to be kept informed about the investigation, Your Majesty.”

The hand, once again left caressing the air, dropped. “You need not worry about such nasty things-”

“Your Majesty,” she interrupted. “My son and I were almost killed. I deserve to know who did it and I deserve to see the evidence and investigation of it myself. Do not worry. I grew up in nasty, I can handle it.”

He exhaled softly. “Very well.” He leaned back and tilted his head questioningly. “Do you have anyone you suspect?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be truthful?”

“Yes,” the man replied immediately. “It does not matter who you think it is. We shall not let the culprit go unpunished.”

“Are you sure?” She asked softly. “Even if it meant that the balance in your Harem and Court might be disrupted.”

He paused at that. Samaya stared unblinkingly, waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” he replied after a moment. “The Son of Heaven is not so weak that He cannot punish someone who dared try to kill his child.”

Ah. So, that was what he was going to do. She supposed that was true. Trying to kill the Imperial Prince meant certain death. Even if the man could not go to that extent against any of the High Nobles in his court, he could deal quite a blow to them.

“Alright.” She exhaled softly. “I have two in mind. The Imperial Consort and Consort Kang Yuxin. Maybe both. But it is probably one of them.”

The man stared at her. “Not the Empress?”

She shook his head. “No.”

“Why?”

“She has no incentive to, at the moment. She has a child on the way. If it is a son, her position is secure. Not to mention, she has never directly caused harm to me. If she had to target anyone, it would be Manu, not me. But these assassins clearly had their swords aimed at me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, they completely ignored Manu, for one.” She thought back. “And even when one of them got his hands on Manu, it was to use him as leverage against me so they could kill me. I was the target, not Manu.” She scoffed. “Besides, if she wanted to send someone against me, I assume she has enough resources to send actual assassins and not just some thugs with martial training.”

The man raised an eyebrow at that, clearly curious how she knew the difference, but thankfully left that alone for now. “And what makes you suspect Consorts Yun and Kang?”

Yun? It took her a moment that that was the surname of the Imperial Consort.

She exhaled. “Well, Kang Yuxin has more reasons than the Imperial Consort. After all, she hates me and I just had a family member of hers whipped and exiled. She took it as an insult. She probably felt humiliated.”

“And the Imperial Consort?”

“The same, but to a lesser extent. I just exposed her Attendant in front of the entire harem. Her position isn’t quite shaky, but people are pointing fingers. Some are wondering if it is worth it to stay in her faction. Needless to say, she is… irritated.”

“Why no one else? If I remember, Ladies Han and Liao also do not like you.”

She scoffed. “They neither have the courage nor the resources. The most those two can conjure are petty fights. They can be malicious but I do not think they have the kind of grit needed to hire killers. Still, if you wish to investigate them, you can.”

“I see.” The Emperor gave a small nod, before standing. “Very well. You have given Us some very useful insights, my lady. Worry not, the culprit will be brought to justice.” She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her. “And yes, We shall keep you abreast of the process.”

He seemed to want to say something more but ultimately, he just put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“Rest well, Ya’er.”

And with those parting words, he saw himself out.