Qin Neijian carefully watched Fu Ye’s reaction.
What else could he do? His orders were to “watch closely.”
Honestly, wouldn’t it make more sense for His Majesty to come see for himself?
But no—he insisted Qin Neijian “watch closely” and report back.
Judging by the look on Fu Ye’s face, though, he must be really moved.
“Does Your Highness like it?” Qin Neijian asked.
Fu Ye nodded. “My brother is so thoughtful.”
Qin Neijian chuckled. “His Majesty’s feelings for Your Highness—they’re beyond words. I’ve served at his side for over twenty years, and I’ve never seen him treat anyone else like this.”
Fu Ye took out the orchid and sat with it for a while before finally asking, “What’s His Majesty doing now?”
“His Majesty just summoned the Ministry of Rites officials to discuss the palace examination.”
Right now, Fu Ye didn’t dare go see Fu Huang. His heart was too much of a mess—and he felt so warm.
He just said, “Then I won’t disturb him. Please, Neijian, thank His Majesty for me.”
Qin Neijian said, “Then I’ll take my leave.”
But before he went, he added, “His Majesty said Your Highness can read those storybooks as you please. He’s already sent people to search for better ones in the city.”
Fu Ye’s face turned bright red. “Tell His Majesty I… I don’t read that stuff anymore!”
Before was one thing—but now? Now it felt like reading them right in front of Fu Huang.
It was just… just too much.
Just thinking about it made him… start to feel something.
Xiao Ai: “Ahhhhh!”
Fu Ye: “Xiao Ai! What do I do? What do I do?!”
Xiao Ai: “You’re doomed!”
Yes. He was doomed.
Clutching the orchid, Fu Ye sat down. His hands and feet tingled; heat surged through him like a spring flood, swift and overwhelming.
Back in the next room, Qin Neijian returned and exaggerated his report to Fu Huang.
“Your Highness was overjoyed,” he said. “I knew that flower would win his heart. Your Majesty really should have seen for yourself.”
Fu Huang said, “I won’t see him for the next couple of days.”
“Huh?”
Qin Neijian couldn’t make sense of His Majesty’s intentions.
But His Majesty, after all, had earned the name of “invincible general” during his time in the army. Clearly, his strategies were brilliant—if he could conquer the battlefield, surely he wouldn’t fare too badly on the field of love.
“Oh, and by the way—His Highness also said that he won’t be looking at those erotic picture books His Majesty sent him.”
Fu Huang’s lips curved into a faint smile, but he didn’t say anything.
Qin Neijian added, “Actually, Your Majesty could’ve kept a few of those books for yourself…”
Fu Huang raised his eyes and looked at him. “I know how to handle those matters.”
Qin Neijian quickly said, “Y-yes, of course.”
Ah, he thought, I was overstepping.
Fu Huang said, “You may go.”
But Qin Neijian hesitated, then said, “There’s one more thing, Your Majesty. I felt I should tell you.”
Fu Huang looked at him. “What is it?”
“Today at the Buddha Grove, His Highness offered a Thousand Buddha Light Lamp for Your Majesty.”
There were many types of eternal lamps—lotus lamps, palace lamps, and Thousand Buddha Lamps. The lotus was most common, the Thousand Buddha Lamp the rarest. The Thousand Buddha Lamp was large, with a cylindrical column carved with small niches, each holding a lamp—a total of eighty-one lamps, symbolizing the illumination of a thousand Buddhas, and carrying the greatest merit.
And depending on the wish, eternal lamps varied too—peace lamps for safety, Wen Chang lamps for academic success, marriage lamps for romance. The light lamp, the one Fu Ye had offered, was meant to ward off disasters, remove inner obstacles, and light the path ahead.
Qin Neijian had watched as His Highness wrote out the emperor’s name and personally lit the lamps. He’d been deeply moved.
He’d thought telling His Majesty would make him happy.
But Fu Huang was silent for a long while. At last, he only said, “I see.”
That night, Fu Huang couldn’t sleep. Suddenly, in the dark, he muttered, “I really don’t deserve him.”
Qin Neijian, half-asleep, mumbled, “Huh?”
He almost thought he was dreaming. He opened his eyes and saw the emperor had already turned away, wrapped in the tea-brown robe with camellia patterns that belonged to Prince Huan.
An evil spirit is an evil spirit because, even knowing it doesn’t deserve a celestial being, it still wants to take a bite of that celestial’s flesh.
The more he felt unworthy, the deeper the demon within bound him—the more he longed to consume him.
The next morning, upon rising, Fu Huang instructed, “Don’t forget to have someone find new storybooks and picture scrolls.”
Qin Neijian said, “Rest assured, Your Majesty. I already sent trusted people to look.”
And in his heart, he thought: Seeing His Majesty like this, I doubt he’s going to take his time with subtle schemes anymore. Most likely he’ll soon go straight to Prince Huan on some lonely spring night, seeking favor.
Meanwhile, Fu Ye was feeling troubled these days.
“A little troubled. A little troubled,” he hummed.
Shuang Fu propped his chin on his hand and asked, “What’s troubling Your Highness?”
Fu Ye laughed. “That’s a line from a folk song.”
Shuang Fu said, “Oh, well, Your Highness shouldn’t feel troubled. I know lots of folk songs—I can sing you some.”
Fu Ye said, “Alright, let’s hear a couple.”
So Shuang Fu sang:
The lotus leaves stretch blue across the sky,
Two red carp swim, necks entwined.
Brother poles the boat, I pick the lotus,
The lotus heart shyer than the sun itself.
Fu Ye: …
Oh God oh God oh God!
Shuang Fu asked, “Your Highness didn’t like that one?”
“I don’t want to hear any more love songs.”
Shuang Fu said, “But Your Highness, you haven’t heard the rest yet.”
And he kept singing:
The crescent moon pierces the paper window,
Brother’s sweat drips down my waist,
The boat boards creak on and on,
Rocking the river moon to pieces of foam.
Oh God oh God oh God.
Fu Ye groaned, “What kind of lewd, scandalous song is this?!”
Shuang Fu’s face flushed a little. “Your Highness doesn’t like it?”
Fu Ye shook his head. “Sing something decent!”
He was already feeling restless—listening to this, there’d be no sleeping tonight.
“Where on earth did you learn that?!”
Shuang Fu said, “Back at the Goddess Temple, one of the palace eunuchs at the retreat taught it to me.”
He wouldn’t say who, and very carefully added, “I asked him if he had any storybooks about men’s romances, and he said no, but he did know a song like that.”
Fu Ye paused. “…Is there more?”
Shuang Fu’s eyes lit up.
He knew His Highness would like it!
“Oh yes, yes, yes—there’s more.”
And he kept singing.
Fu Ye thought: I’m doomed. There’s no way I’m getting any sleep tonight.
With lyrics about red curtains swaying, wild ducks calling in the reeds—God, ancient people were really shockingly bold!
He was parched and flustered when he heard footsteps approaching outside.
Shuang Fu immediately slipped off the bed platform and stood to the side with his hands at his sides.
Just seeing the procession of eunuchs entering the room, Fu Ye already knew who had come.
He straightened up at once, watching Fu Huang walk in.
It had been two days since they’d returned to the palace, and Fu Huang had been busy with preparations for the imperial exam. He hadn’t come over even once.
Which made Fu Ye miss him… a lot.
Oh God oh God oh God.
Today, Fu Huang had his hair tied up, held in place by a black jade hairpin inlaid with a gilded coiling dragon. His robe was a light spring robe, making his lean, elegant frame even more striking.
So handsome.
Love really does make people blind.
Fu Ye lowered his head, forcing himself to settle his thoughts.
Little Love (his inner voice): “Get your feelings under control!”
Fu Ye composed himself, bowed properly, and said, “Your Majesty.”
Fu Huang’s gaze swept over him as he sat down across from him.
The table was piled high with memorials and reports, some new, some old ones dug out from the archives of Chunying Hall.
Even at the peak of his studies back in school, Fu Ye thought, his desk had never been this buried in paperwork.
Fu Ye’s hair was loose, his robe a little disheveled. There was even a trace of weariness on his face. He’d heard from Qin Neijian that Fu Huang had been buried in these reports the past couple of days, with eunuchs from his palace running back and forth to Chunying Hall all day long.
Fu Huang had also brought him the essays written by the new top scholars from this round of the imperial exam.
He himself started looking through the memorials Fu Ye had reviewed that day.
Fu Ye had improved a lot—even his handwriting was much neater than before.
Reading through the memorials Fu Ye had annotated, his judgment was measured and precise.
It was that tricky time of year—the turn of spring to summer—when the weather shifted unpredictably and outbreaks of disease were common. Fu Ye knew medicine, so he had gone over all the reports on this topic especially carefully. One of his responses was actually longer than the official’s original report.
As a maid brought in tea, Qin Neijian asked, “Would Your Highness like me to assign you another attendant?”
Qing Xi had been ill recently and was moved out to recover.
Poor kid—probably scared half to death.
Fu Ye said, “No need. It’ll just be two or three days, and Qing Xi will be back.”
He hadn’t expected Fu Huang to look up when he heard that, his expression turning serious.
“Sick?” Fu Huang asked. “What kind of illness? Be careful he doesn’t pass it on to you.”
Qin Neijian quickly replied, “Just caught a bit of a chill a couple of days ago. He’s already been moved to Changqing Palace.”
Fu Huang said, “There’s been a lot of colds in the capital lately. You’re delicate—you need to take extra care.”
Fu Ye had seen that too in the reports.
So he immediately handed over the prescriptions he’d written to Fu Huang.
Fu Huang asked, “What’s this?”
“With spring behaving like summer, it’s easy for epidemics to break out. I’ve combed through the medical texts these past few days and found some good remedies for seasonal colds. I was planning to have these distributed widely, just in case.”
Fu Huang said, “Then distribute them in your name.”
“I want Your Majesty to issue the edict yourself,” Fu Ye said, rolling up his sleeves and handing him a brush.
Fu Huang hesitated a moment, then wrote out the decree.
Fu Ye picked it up and read:
“Now, as spring takes on the signs of summer, we fear the spread of illness that may endanger the health of our people. The Prince of Huan, out of deep concern for the people’s welfare, has diligently studied medical texts and provided Us with several effective remedies for seasonal colds. We hereby command all local officials that, should an outbreak occur, they are to prepare these medicines at once so that all may be spared from sickness. All officials must perform their duties with utmost care; any dereliction of duty will be severely punished without leniency.”
In the end, the honor still went to him.
It really made Fu Ye feel a bit helpless.
He thought: Whether I get this credit or not doesn’t matter. What really needs fixing is Fu Huang’s reputation.
He wanted Fu Huang to become a ruler who earned the people’s praise—just like how everyone spoke so highly of Emperor Mingzong.
Just imagining it made him happy.
Little Love (his inner voice): “Ah, such selfless devotion!”
Fu Ye: “…You don’t have anything better to do?”
Little Love: “Working myself to death! Just worried about you!”
Fu Ye said, “Even though my heart is a mess, I haven’t lost my head. I know what’s important.”
He wanted to be the most trusted and dependable aide by Fu Huang’s side, stay with him until he couldn’t anymore. And he would never let a third person—not besides Fu Huang and Little Love—catch even a hint of his improper feelings.
But…
When night fell, the palace quieted, Qin Neijian and the others waiting outside, and it was just the two of them.
Fu Huang suddenly asked, “You lit a long-life lamp for me?”
Fu Ye froze, his hand trembling, accidentally dragging out the last stroke of the character he was writing like a little slip of emotion spilling out.
He straightened, and softly answered, “Mm.”
He didn’t dare look up at Fu Huang.
Suddenly, he felt incredibly tense.
Fu Huang didn’t say much either.
Fu Ye hurried to explain, “I saw everyone else offering lamps, and I figured, well, it couldn’t hurt.”
Fu Huang said, “Meeting you in this life is already more than I deserve from the heavens. I ought to offer a lamp in thanks.”
Fu Ye: “…”
Little Love (his inner voice): “Steady, steady…”
Then: “The emperor’s words really pack a punch. That sounded an awful lot like a love confession.”
Fu Ye: “!!”
Stop stirring the pot!
Fu Ye lowered his gaze, trying to act nonchalant. “That’s nothing. Things will only get better from here.”
But Fu Huang said, “I wonder sometimes—am I being too selfish?”
“Huh?” Fu Ye looked up.
“You’re young, handsome beyond compare. You should be surrounded by all the most beautiful men in the world. But because of me, you’re trapped here in this palace.”
Fu Ye lowered his gaze again, fidgeting with the memorials in his hands. “I chose this willingly.”
“You’re a good boy. I know that.”
Fu Ye pressed his lips together.
Little Love: “You’re about to give yourself away!”
Fu Ye: “Shut up.”
Fu Huang glanced at Qin Neijian, who clapped his hands, and a servant brought in a box.
“This is a new set of illustrated books from outside the palace.”
Fu Ye: “…Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Fu Huang stood and said, “No need to thank me. This is all I can give you for now—but in time, I’ll give you better.”
Qin Neijian folded his hands together in admiration. He really did respect the emperor deeply!
The man the world called a living devil could spin sweet words as skillfully as any lover.
And from the look of it, the Prince of Huan wouldn’t be escaping His Majesty’s grasp anytime soon.
The prince looked especially obedient just then.
After speaking, the emperor left, as if giving him time to enjoy the books.
Shuangfu came in yawning, ready to attend him. Seeing the box on the floor, he asked, “What’s this?”
“The Four Books and Five Classics,” Fu Ye said. “Put it with the last box.”
Shuangfu immediately called people to move it, then added, “His Majesty really doesn’t understand Your Highness. He should’ve just brought you more little storybooks.”
To Fu Ye, that box might as well have been filled with demons. The moment he opened it, they’d all come flying out.
So he meant to keep it locked up tight.
Maybe too tight.
Because that night, he dreamed of Fu Huang.
In the dream, Fu Huang was leaning lazily in his chamber, reading memorials. There was no one else around—no Qin Neijian, no servants—just the two of them.
The dream felt so real. Even in the dream, Fu Ye’s nerves were stretched taut, his heart racing. At first, they were simply reading, reviewing memorials. But somehow, the scene shifted—Fu Huang was behind him, murmuring, “The picture books I gave you… why haven’t you looked at them?”
Then, “Don’t want the books? Want the real thing?”
In the dream, Fu Ye was bold, blushing as he answered, “I don’t want to look.”
And then, lifting his gaze, overwhelmed by his feelings, he said, “I want a taste.”
When he woke, he realized his underclothes were damp, soaked through.
Thank goodness he was in his own quarters.
Feeling flustered and restless, he got up, only to have Little Love scold him: “Where’s your self-control?”
Fu Ye’s face turned red. “…Who can control their dreams?”
“You think about him so much during the day—it’s no wonder you dream about him at night.”
Even though it was just a dream, he felt embarrassed for half the day.
He thought, if something like that really happened, he’d probably be too mortified to even lift his head. His mouth might be bold, but deep down he was a total novice with no experience at all. There was no way he’d be as greedy as he’d been in the dream.
But…
Fu Huang had stroked his head before, and he had praised him more than once—called him a good boy.
Just not like in the dream, where Fu Huang had held his head, watching him struggle to take it all, and said, “Sixth Brother, you really are good.”
Ahhhhh!
Fu Ye felt deeply ashamed and it took him a long while to calm down. The only thing that helped was throwing himself into official business.
Thankfully, today he had serious matters to focus on.
Today was the Qionglin Banquet. Fu Huang wanted him to attend.
So at the crack of dawn, he went to bathe and change. He bathed for an especially long time, scrubbing himself so clean he couldn’t possibly get any cleaner.
After bathing, he spent quite a while burning incense to scent himself.
Since he was attending such an important occasion today, his attire was especially formal. He was in the middle of dressing when a eunuch outside announced that Palace Director Sun had arrived.
Before long, Sun came in, bringing along a group of lady officials from Cien Palace. They stood in a row like narrow-necked red-glazed vases, each holding something in her hands.
Sun said, “Her Majesty the Empress Dowager has heard that Your Highness offered a seven-treasure pendant at the Buddhist forest. Such devotion is most commendable. Now, she bestows upon you several pendants to adorn yourself.”
The gifts included pendants to hang from the waist and to wear on the wrists. The most striking was a string of crystal and amber beads—the red crystal and gold-carved amber gleamed together, the red and gold shining against each other, with the string hanging down to his chest, dazzling in its splendor.
The Empress Dowager had given specific instructions that he wear this pendant to the Qionglin Banquet as a mark of the imperial family’s dignity.
In addition, she awarded him a gold leaf hair ornament to wear at the banquet. At the Qionglin Banquet of the Great Zhou, there was a custom called “wearing the leaf”—during the feast, everyone wore red maple leaves in their hats, in the spirit of “the beauty wears a flower, the gentleman pins a leaf.”
His robes were already stately enough, but with the crystal and amber pendant, he looked so resplendent it was almost blinding. When Fu Huang saw him, even he was momentarily stunned.
Seeing Fu Huang, Fu Ye felt a little embarrassed.
But he only grew more respectful, standing tall and making a proper bow.
Fu Huang’s gaze lingered on him for a long time, enough to make his face turn pink, before he finally said, “It suits you well.”
Fu Ye didn’t dare meet his eyes. “It was Her Majesty’s wish that I wear it.”
At his waist, he’d also attached that black jade dragon medallion Fu Huang had given him.
Today, he’d deliberately fastened it outside his robes.
Just a small gesture of his hidden affection.
To his surprise, Fu Huang noticed. He reached out and lightly toyed with the black tassel on the medallion, seeming quite pleased.
Fu Ye felt as if that simple touch had stirred his secret longing—his face burned.
Fu Huang’s lips curved slightly. “Good boy. Always wear it on the outside from now on.”
Fu Ye’s knees almost buckled.
He nearly tripped over his own feet.
He thought to himself: they say only love and a cough can’t be hidden. Looks like it’s true. He clamped his mouth shut, but his feelings still betrayed him, blooming red across his cheeks.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.
The Qionglin Banquet was held at Fengchun Palace, connected to the imperial gardens—a palace famed for its scenery, the most beautiful of them all. Today, the hall was filled with newly appointed scholars, palace attendants weaving between them. From a distance, the sounds of strings and flutes floated through the air.
Such a scene was rare in the palace.
He’d never seen a performance like this inside the palace before.
And ahead, he spotted palace servants carrying trays of Qiong wine from this spring, moving slowly and gracefully.
Fu Ye reminded himself: no matter what, he must not drink at today’s banquet.
