“…This subject does not know.” Still light-headed and faintly short of breath, he answered with some difficulty.
Tantai Yi gently pinched the soft flesh of his cheek and said in a low voice, “I have already lowered myself, yet you still insist on opposing me?”
Song Pu’s voice retained a slight nasal thickness. “How would this subject dare oppose Your Majesty? I speak in earnest. If Your Majesty finds me displeasing, it would be better to allow me to return home.”
His face burned. He could not tell whether it was the warmth of Tantai Yi’s hands cupping his cheeks, or the rush of blood brought on by his agitation.
Tantai Yi fell silent. After a moment, he released him. “Have you grown fond of saying such things?”
The grievance and resentment in Song Pu’s chest had yet to fade. Even though Tantai Yi’s tone had softened, he did not take back his words.
If he could use this opportunity to free himself from Tantai Yi’s side, that would be for the best.
At that moment, with his nose stinging and his back damp with sweat, the thought had been especially clear.
Now that Tantai Yi had taken a step back, it almost felt improper to persist in such thoughts. Tantai Yi had yielded once; by all reason, he ought to yield as well, pretend nothing had happened, and return to how things were before.
That was the signal Tantai Yi was giving.
But how could he pretend nothing had happened?
Tantai Yi had repeatedly claimed to regard him as a confidant, and he had believed it. The customs of Liang were conservative; men did not easily show one another such openness. He had served him, attended to him intimately. Their relationship should have been closer than any other.
Yet when Tantai Yi was angered, he showed no restraint. Where was the consideration one afforded a confidant? That might be dismissed as bluntness, a lack of tact, pride and wilfulness. But what of everything else?
Because he had bathed in the stream with Chang Jiangming and the others, Li Zongyi had been punished with thirty strokes.
That alone had placed him in an impossible position. Li Zongyi had always looked after him, one of the few friends he had in this world, yet he had caused him to suffer. Thirty strokes. Had it been him, he might not have survived.
What he feared now was precisely such a future.
Tantai Yi might say he would not punish him, yet he never dispelled that fear. There was no sense of security.
He was afraid.
Only now did he truly realise he could not grasp Tantai Yi’s temperament. Even knowing his arrogance, his pride, his rebelliousness, what of it? He could not change him. No matter how close they became, there would come a day when they fell out, and when that day came, his life might be forfeit in an instant.
If only he could use this chance to leave.
The thought surfaced again.
Yet Tantai Yi’s expression made it clear he had no intention of letting him go. Before, Song Pu had been emboldened by what he believed to be affection, daring to overstep. Now, for the first time, he felt a flicker of regret over this ill-defined, precarious bond.
It left him with no way forward, and no way back.
Seeing him remain silent, head lowered, his damp lashes trembling faintly as though betraying unease, Tantai Yi’s heart softened. “I treat you so well. Can you truly bear to leave me?”
How could Song Pu bear to?
Perhaps… perhaps there was a trace of reluctance. But that faint reluctance came only from the occasional gentleness Tantai Yi showed, as he did now.
Song Pu had to admit that Tantai Yi was a strikingly compelling man. So compelling that even he would sometimes feel faintly dazed by his looks. Paired with that softened tone, the effect multiplied severalfold, enough to stir reactions in him that ought not to be there.
But how long could such gentleness last?
When Tantai Yi grew weary of him, would he not treat him as he did Li Zongyi and the others?
Song Pu did not believe himself so exceptional that a tyrant would cherish him forever. Having grown up in the modern world to the age of twenty, he knew his own shortcomings. He was not especially clever, too straightforward, poor at reading between the lines, soft-hearted, naïve, too ready to trust others.
He knew this well.
When Tantai Yi said he would not punish him, he had believed it, and had been genuinely pleased. When Tantai Yi amended it to say he would not punish him so long as he was not angered, he had felt equally genuine disappointment.
To have one’s joy and anger, sorrow and happiness all held in another’s hands was not a pleasant thing.
Compared to his fear of the future and the frustration he felt towards Tantai Yi, that faint reluctance seemed insignificant.
Seeing him remain silent, Tantai Yi’s irritation rose again. For a moment he nearly lashed out, but the words reached his lips only to be forcibly swallowed.
If he spoke harshly now, Song Pu would only press him again to punish him and send him away. That would not do. At most, he had intended to leave him to stew for a while, yet Song Pu had already begun to entertain thoughts of leaving.
Outrageous.
Had he truly become incapable of dealing with him?
Even as Son of Heaven, Tantai Yi could not fully conceal his agitation. His gaze dropped and fell upon the trembling fawn on the ground. He pressed his lips together, then spoke as though nothing were amiss.
“If you want this deer, you may ask it of me. So long as you ask, I will grant it.”
Only then did Song Pu look up. “Does Your Majesty truly mean it?”
At last hearing him speak, Tantai Yi felt a flicker of relief, only to grow faintly annoyed at his own repeated concessions. None of it showed on his face. “My word is as weighty as nine tripods. When have I ever deceived you?”
Song Pu said, “This deer happens to please me. I ask that Your Majesty part with it and grant it to me.”
“Just now you ignored me, yet now you speak for a mere beast. Am I in your eyes worth less than such a creature?”
Unable to resist, he added the barb, and was met with silence once more.
“…Since you ask, I shall grant it.”
“Many thanks, Your Majesty.”
Song Pu lifted his face, his gaze utterly earnest. “Your Majesty, what I said earlier was entirely sincere. For the sake of our past association, and that Your Majesty once regarded me as a confidant, if you have truly grown weary of me, then please allow me to return home.”
At this repeated insistence, Tantai Yi’s fury surged.
With a sudden sweep of his arm, he struck a nearby tree. It crashed down at once, startling a flock of birds into flight.
The sheer force of it made Song Pu’s heart seize. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground.
Tantai Yi’s chest heaved violently. His golden eyes were faintly tinged with red as he stared at him. Seeing Song Pu sitting there, trembling alongside the deer, he clenched his fists, barely restraining the fury surging through him.
“…How many times must I say it before you understand? When have I ever said I disliked you? I have not. The way I treat you, can you not see it? Even if I had said such a thing, had you spoken as you usually do, would I ever have held it against you? Why do you persist in saying this?”
He stared as though fire might spill from his eyes, forcibly suppressing his rage until his expression twisted.
“Enough. I do not wish to hear your answer. If you want to return home, I will not stop you. There are countless attendants at my side. If you leave, others will rush to serve me. Why should I care about you? If you wish to go, then go. Go today. Go now. I will write an edict. Do not appear before me again. Will that satisfy you?”
Song Pu’s face turned deathly pale. Yet beneath the fear, disbelief surfaced. His tongue stumbled as he spoke, “Y-Your Majesty truly means this?”
Tantai Yi ground his teeth. “You doubt me at every turn. Even my own words you do not believe. When have I ever spoken falsely?”
He let out a cold laugh. “After this, do not ever come begging before me again.”
Having said this, he turned and left without another glance, abandoning even his horse.
Song Pu remained collapsed where he was, unable to recover for a long while.
