Quick Transmigration: Saving That Cannon Fodder

Chi Xing rolled over, turning his face to the inside of the bed, his voice muffled: "Whatever, you are the emperor, whatever you say goes."

The sight of that thin, frail figure filled Zhao Yuheng with irritation.

I had already arranged accommodations for Akahoshi, and he wasn't going to come back.

But for the entire afternoon, all I could think about was Akahoshi's slightly red eyes and pale face.

Still worried, Zhao Yuheng came over before dinner.

I'm so glad I came all this way, otherwise this kid would have starved me to death.

Sitting down by the bed, Zhao Yuheng leaned down and half-embraced him, saying, "Let's eat first. I don't want the Empress to starve to death in the palace."

Chi Xing didn't struggle, but said sarcastically, "It's good that a commoner like me, an empress who doesn't know etiquette, is dead. Your Majesty can find a well-mannered one."

These words pierced Zhao Yuheng's heart like knives, causing him great pain.

The young playboy's face was paler than in the afternoon, and his voice trembled as he spoke. Zhao Yuheng looked down at his stubbornly turned face and sighed softly.

"I was just saying it casually, don't take it to heart."

He reached out and brushed the long hair from Akahoshi's face back, and Afu, with his keen eye, placed the porridge on the small table in front of him.

Zhao Yuheng fed him with a spoon: "Eat your meal first, we'll talk about other things later."

Leaning against him, Akahoshi slowly finished a bowl of porridge, feeling utterly drained and unable to utter a single word.

"Drink the medicine."

Another bowl of dark, medicinal soup. Chixing gritted her teeth and said, "I won't drink it."

Before Zhao Yuheng could try the same trick again, Chixing tried to break free from him and shrank into the blankets.

However, he underestimated the emperor's strength. The emperor's arms encircled him, and Zhao Yuheng supported the back of his head with one hand, making him face him.

When Zhao Yuheng met Chi Xing's stubborn expression and reddened eyes, his body stiffened.

He subconsciously softened his voice: "Listen to me, you'll only get better if you take the medicine."

Akashi blinked, tears rolling down his cheeks, his voice hoarse: "You care a lot?"

Does he care? Zhao Yuheng himself hadn't thought about that question. The only thing he could think of was that Chixing couldn't die, at least not in the palace.

As if possessed, Zhao Yuheng reached out and gently wiped away his tears, feeling a pang of sorrow in his heart.

Seeing no familiar affection in his eyes, Akahoshi remained stunned for a long while.

Who said that every single piece of Ayu loved him?

I don't like this movie.

【Your Highness, how about we flirt with him?】250 realized that His Highness had become accustomed to being loved at first sight and had forgotten that in the beginning, he had also tried hard to pursue the Immortal Lord.

However, the Immortal Lord always responded quickly and indulged His Highness in everything.

250 quickly flipped through his notebook, muttering to himself: [The missions from those previous host conquest guides were much harder; those targets were far more difficult to deal with than the Immortal Lord.]

Akahoshi didn't want to listen and slapped 250 into the dark room.

He reached out, picked up the bowl of medicine, and drank it down in large gulps, the bowl making a sound as he placed it on the table.

Chi Xing deliberately withdrew from Zhao Yuheng's embrace and nestled back into bed: "Your Majesty, please go back. I won't die in this palace and cause you any trouble."

Suddenly feeling empty in his arms, as if he had lost something very important, Zhao Yuheng felt a pang of heartache and subconsciously frowned.

He took some candied fruit from the side and held it to Akahoshi's lips: "Have something sweet."

A bitter feeling welled up in Akahoshi's heart. Tears streamed from her right eye to her left, then slid down her left eye to her temple and into her pillow.

Cried again.

Zhao Yuheng felt a tightness in his chest. He waved his hand, and everyone else left.

He sighed deeply, picked up a handkerchief, and gently wiped Akahoshi's tears, his tone unusually soft:

"Akahoshi, stop fooling around."

"What do you want? I can grant you anything except letting you leave the palace, on the condition that you take your medicine and get better."

"Ok?"

As long as what he asked for wasn't difficult to do, Zhao Yuheng would agree to anything.

Chi Xing's tone was calmer than ever before: "I'm moving back to Evergreen Pavilion. Your Majesty doesn't need to worry about me. I won't cause any more trouble."

Zhao Yuheng frowned deeply and rejected the idea: "Besides this, Changqing Pavilion is remote and the courtyard is cold; your body can't handle it."

"Ah, Your Majesty, please return."

Akahoshi's voice was weak, as if she were murmuring, "Stop fooling around."

Zhao Yuheng didn't understand what was wrong with this person again, and the irritability in his heart made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"Okay, you get some rest."

Turn around and leave.

Over the next few days, Akahoshi obediently ate and drank his medicine.

Zhao Yuheng stared blankly at the memorial in his hand, Li Zhong's words repeating in his ears several times.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty?"

Zhao Yuheng snapped out of his daze and said, "Speak."

Li Zhong: "The Imperial Hospital says that the young master's pulse has stabilized considerably."

Ever since that day when he carried Chixing to Fengqi Palace, Zhao Yuheng inexplicably disliked being called Empress Chixing by others.

He's a man, wouldn't he be angry if someone called him "Your Majesty"?

So Zhao Yuheng ordered someone to call Young Master Chixing, just like when they were at the Marquis's residence.

Consider it compensation for not being allowed to leave the palace. Of course, a lot of other tonics and fine clothes were also sent over, all in styles suitable for Chixing.

"Hmm, did he eat well? What did he have this morning?"

This was a question Zhao Yuheng asked almost every day, and Li Zhong already knew the answer.

"I drank a bowl of lotus seed porridge and ate some steamed buns and pastries."

A cool breeze blew in from outside. Zhao Yuheng remembered there was a mink cloak in the storeroom and said:

"Tell Fengqi Palace to keep him warm and send him the mink cloak from my storeroom. He is weak, so prepare some nourishing food to send over."

Li Zhong nodded repeatedly, and then Zhao Yuheng continued, "By the way, tell the Imperial Kitchen to prioritize Fengqi Palace. All expenses don't need to follow the Empress's. Just try to meet whatever he needs."

As I talked, I couldn't help but keep thinking about it.

Even after Li Zhong left to handle other matters, Zhao Yuheng's mind was filled with thoughts of Chixing.

Has he eaten well? Has he slept well? It's terribly cold today. Is he used to being alone?

Looking down at the words on the memorial, as if his eyes were blurred, a picture of Akahoshi stubbornly bowing his head and shedding tears suddenly appeared on the paper.

Zhao Yuheng blinked; the memorial again contained a question about Chixing.

The Marquis of Xuanping's mansion and the Xu family have always spoiled this child, no wonder he developed such a stubborn personality.

However, he is still young, so let's just spoil him.

He wrote on it: I caught a cold a few days ago, but I'm feeling better now.

Subsequently, another imperial edict was issued: the ceremony for the empress's investiture was postponed until the spring of the following year.

The coronation ceremony was complicated, and it wouldn't be good for Chi Xing to get cold in this winter. Zhao Yuheng's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile.

An image flashed through my mind of Akahoshi dressed like a ball, slowly walking across the snow; she must have looked both pitiful and adorable.

Suddenly, Zhao Yuheng focused his gaze and summoned the head steward of the Imperial Household Department to arrange matters for the Empress's Grand Ceremony in the spring of the following year. The main concern was that the Empress's attire must be made in the style of men's clothing.