A kiss

Qi Yu's eyelashes fluttered a few times, but his eyes stayed closed. He gave a muffled little hum, his voice soft with the particular drowsiness of being half asleep. He rolled over beneath the quilt and curled closer to the pillow, brushing his forehead against Qi Xiao's hand resting on the edge of the bed.

A moment later, Qi Yu hummed again. This time it was clearer. He slowly opened his eyes, still veiled with moisture, and gazed blearily at the canopy overhead before turning to look beside him. Qi Xiao had his head lowered over the memorials he was reviewing, the candlelight casting his profile into sharp relief.

"You're awake." Qi Xiao did not look up.

"Mm." Qi Yu rubbed his eyes and tugged the quilt up beneath his chin. "Father, you haven't gone to sleep yet."

"I still have a few left."

"How many is a few?"

"Three."

Qi Yu murmured an acknowledgment and lay on his back, staring blankly for a while. He had spent many days in bed since being poisoned, swallowing bitter medicine every day, until his mouth felt unbearably tasteless. Tonight, he had finally been allowed a hot bath and some Osmanthus Cake. Now, lying beneath the warm quilt, he felt that nothing in this world could be more comfortable. He reached out from under the quilt and fumbled around on the low table beside the bed, found an empty teacup, then withdrew his hand.

"Father, can you skip morning court tomorrow?"

"No."

"What about the day after?"

"Not the day after, either."

"Then when can you?" Qi Yu rolled onto his side, burying half his face in the pillow.

Looking at that expression, Qi Xiao suddenly remembered the winter when Qi Yu was four. It had snowed that day, too. Before morning court, the child had sat wrapped in a quilt on the imperial bed, looking up at him just like this, asking whether he could skip court and stay to build a snowman with him. He had told him that they could build a snowman in the afternoon, but he could not skip morning court. Later, when he returned from court, he had spotted a lopsided snowman in the courtyard of Xuanzheng Hall from a distance. Its carrot nose had fallen off at some point, and Qi Yu was crouching beside it, holding it in place with his hand, his nose running from the cold and his little face bright red. He had walked over and scooped his youngest son out of the snow. Those little hands were as cold as blocks of ice, yet he had still pointed at the snowman and said, "Look, Father, I held its nose in place."

He drew his thoughts back and lowered his gaze to the face before him. His chin was much more pointed now, and he had grown a great deal taller, but those eyes were still exactly as they had been when he was little.

"When you're as tall as I am."

"How many more years will that take?" Qi Yu pulled the quilt up a little, covering his chin.

"Soon," Qi Xiao said, looking at him. He turned to the next page of the memorial and added, "There'll be an extra bowl of ginseng soup at breakfast tomorrow. You're to finish it."

Qi Yu's face immediately scrunched up. "It's bitter."

"I'll have them put in two red dates."

"Three."

"Two."

Qi Yu glared at him for a while with those still-moist eyes. Two it is, then. Better than none. He pulled the quilt up over half his face and murmured, "Good night, Father," with his eyes closed, his voice already drowsy. The bath had left his whole body relaxed, and now, lying beneath the warm quilt, he felt sleepiness wash over him in wave after wave.

Qi Xiao withdrew his gaze and set his brush to the paper again. These past days, he had reviewed memorials here every night while Qi Yu slept under the quilt beside him. Sometimes Qi Yu rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep; sometimes he stretched a leg out from beneath the quilt and draped it over the edge of the bed; sometimes he made no movement at all, simply lying there quietly, his breathing so faint it was almost inaudible. Whenever Qi Xiao finished reviewing the memorials, he would turn his head and watch that sleeping face for a while, making sure his complexion was a little better than the day before and the cracks in his lips had healed a little more. Only then would he blow out the lamp in the corner, lie down, and close his eyes.

In a few more hours, dawn would come. De'an would knock at the door, and he would rise to attend morning court. Qi Yu would sleep on the imperial bed until the sun was high, then wake and ask Chun He for Osmanthus Cake, bicker with A Ping, and talk to the two rabbits.