Fu Ye carefully put away the letter and asked, “Has the Empress Dowager heard the news yet?”
Prime Minister Xie’s voice still trembled with emotion. “Her Majesty must have heard the drums and bells. She’ll surely know by now.”
Fu Ye turned to Eunuch Qin and said, “Master Qin, help me change my robes. We’ll go together to bring this joyous news to the Empress Dowager.” Then he said to Xie Xiang, “This is a triumph for all under Heaven. Go at once and have the Ministry of Rites begin preparations for the grand ceremony to welcome my imperial brother home.”
Even the ever-cautious old minister Xie, now weeping with joy, bowed low. “This humble servant will see it done at once!”
Fu Ye returned to Spring Dawn Hall and changed into a gold-embroidered python robe.
Shuang Fu smiled and said, “Your Highness, you’re still recovering from your illness.”
Fu Ye laughed softly. “Why do I feel half-recovered already?”
Eunuch Qin wiped his eyes and said, “It’s joy that lifts your spirit, Your Highness.”
Fu Ye looked at him, eyes red with tears. “Then let us share this joy together, Master Qin.”
For the first time in so long, Eunuch Qin truly laughed, his heart unburdened.
Eunuch Qin, Shuang Fu, and the others also changed into fresh formal wear and accompanied Fu Ye to Cien Palace.
Sun Gongzheng led twelve court ladies, all standing in solemn formation at the palace steps. They had been waiting at the gate for some time.
They bowed deeply. “We knew Your Highness would come.”
Fu Ye smiled. “Such a day of celebration must be shared with the Empress Dowager!”
When he entered the grand hall of Cien Palace, he saw the Empress Dowager seated upon the lotus throne, eyes red as if she’d just wept.
Seeing this, waves of emotion surged in Fu Ye’s heart. He said nothing, simply knelt and bowed three times to her.
The Empress Dowager, always so strong and proud, now let tears soak the prayer beads in her hands.
In that moment, Fu Ye’s heart, so long burdened, finally felt at peace. He found he no longer even had the strength to rise.
Eunuch Qin thought to himself: Now, in the Empress Dowager’s heart, His Majesty has completely redeemed himself. All those past faults—before such a towering achievement—are nothing but trivial details.
I truly wonder what look she’ll have on her face when she sees His Majesty again… And if one day she discovers the true relationship between His Majesty and His Highness, how will she react then? The thought made him anxious again.
But then he comforted himself: With His Majesty’s glory so great, surely this small private matter—surely the Empress Dowager could turn a blind eye?
Outside the palace, the city was alive with joy. Every household was festooned with lanterns and banners; everywhere was bright and jubilant.
Fu Ye, meanwhile, finally allowed himself a deep, unbroken sleep—one whole day and night. The Emperor’s letter had been the perfect cure; when he woke, it was as if his illness had been swept away.
By the third day, he rose early and went back to his duties.
Eunuch Qin brought him tonic. “If His Majesty sees Your Highness so thin and pale, his heart will surely ache.”
Fu Ye drank the medicine and said softly, “I wonder how he’s doing right now…”
Fu Huang always claimed to be fine; Zhang Gui and the others said he was fine. But how could one be fine in war? Always on the march, eating and sleeping poorly, and on top of that, still suffering from old injuries… how fine could he really be?
Fu Ye had already prepared himself: when Fu Huang returned, he would probably be gaunt, all skin and bones.
But no matter what shape he was in, Fu Ye would love him all the same.
He’d love him with his lips, love him with his body, love him with every bit of affection he had.
His husband hadn’t yet returned, but in his heart, he had already kissed him a thousand, ten thousand times.
With at least a month left until Fu Huang’s return—since they would stop along the way to see the troops stationed in newly secured territories—Fu Ye could do nothing now but wait.
And if he couldn’t shower him with love yet… well, he’d just have to keep himself busy in other ways.
Fu Huang would go down in history as a sage ruler who expanded the empire’s borders; as for Fu Ye—he would be the loyal prince who kept it strong.
This was a realm carved out by Fu Huang and his soldiers with blood and sacrifice.
His duty was to safeguard that legacy.
He would help Fu Huang give peace and prosperity to all under Heaven.
Within the capital, the festivities seemed endless—days of celebration filled the streets—but inside the palace, all remained calm, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
Prime Minister Xie and the senior ministers came and went from the palace more often now.
Back during the war, Fu Ye had been cautious not to meddle too much in military matters. Rear-line logistics, supplies, strategy—those had been left to Xie Xiang and the seasoned ministers. Fu Ye’s role was largely symbolic, to give final approval when needed. His true work had been to keep the capital secure, soothe the people’s hearts, oversee the treasury, manage daily affairs, and smooth over disputes. Where Fu Huang ruled with iron law, Fu Ye balanced it with gentleness; together, they made a perfect match.
But now that peace had been won, Fu Ye was deeply involved in every aspect of rebuilding the administration.
Months of effort had sharpened his skill with governance. And with peace restored, the tension and anxiety that had gripped him during wartime gave way to a steadier, more resilient heart.
The ministers, too, seemed energized—devoted to helping him secure this hard-won stability.
These early days of peace were the most critical: politically, they had to reorganize the administration, redraw boundaries, and assign capable officials; economically, they had to unify systems, lighten taxes, and revive industry and daily life.
A general amnesty had been declared, and Fu Ye took the chance to print and distribute the medical manual he’d written over the past few months—The Golden Remedies of Apricot Grove—throughout the empire.
He wanted the world to see Da Zhou’s benevolence in action.
He’d had the idea for some time. Back at the Spring Festival prayers at Fuhua Temple, he’d thought of publishing a few remedies under Fu Huang’s name, as a gesture of care for the people and a way to improve Fu Huang’s standing in popular opinion. But then he thought—why stop at a small good deed? Why not something truly lasting? So he studied the medical texts of Da Zhou, and wrote a book of treatments ordinary folk could actually afford.
It included tried-and-true remedies from ancient works, alongside ones unknown to the past, or improved upon—like a simple disinfectant made from garlic, ginger, and rice wine; or a quick-acting cold remedy brewed from scallion, fermented soybeans, and perilla leaves; or powders for children’s indigestion, ointments for burns, syrups for coughs and phlegm.
Xiao Ai had helped immensely, poring over countless records.
Fu Ye also promoted official pharmacies in every province, set up charity clinics, and launched free medical tours. A medical academy was being planned in the capital—and he was to be its honorary head.
Months ago, when war first broke out and the heat threatened outbreaks of disease, Fu Ye had taken charge of public health while Xie Xiang handled military affairs. His efforts had paid off—and that success had given him confidence, and no small pride.
Now, he threw himself into managing Da Zhou’s new lands with fresh vigor.
He rose each day around five in the morning.
With the empire nearly doubled in size, the work was endless. Even Xie Xiang and the others were worn thin. Fu Ye showed them every kindness: as the weather grew cold, he allowed them to take warm sedan chairs into the palace, and when meetings ran long, he kept them for a hot meal.
To eat steaming dishes from the imperial kitchens, beside a warm stove—it moved them more than they could say.
And the prince himself—dressed in splendid robes, holding his bowl and chopsticks, eating with such grace—he was a sight to behold. Sometimes, he’d gently urge them to eat more, so kind and approachable.
The whole of Qingyuan Palace felt unusually warm, filled with a rare and gentle joy.
Sometimes, at home, they even missed the palace meals.
They all knew, of course, that these good days wouldn’t last forever.
Once His Majesty returned, all this would surely come to an end.
Once, they might have compared the two brothers, wishing for a ruler as mild as the prince.
Now they simply thought—each had his strengths.
Had the emperor been too gentle, how could he have achieved such greatness?
Together, with Fu Huang’s might and Fu Ye’s grace, it was a golden age—and they, the ministers, were fortunate to serve in such times. Their work felt worthwhile. Even Xie Xiang no longer dreamed of retirement.
Each day, the Empress Dowager sent dishes to Fu Ye, with Sun Gongzheng always repeating the same gentle reminder: “Affairs of state are vital—but the prince must take care of himself too.”
But really, no reminder was needed.
“His Highness is so diligent these days,” Sun Gongzheng told the Empress Dowager. “Every day it’s memorials and meetings, he barely touches the ground he’s so busy. And yet, he still makes time in the afternoon for riding and archery, to keep his strength up!”
The Empress Dowager fingered her prayer beads and sighed with feeling. “Sometimes it feels like a dream… This must be Buddha’s blessing!”
Truly, everything seemed to bring joy these days.
The Da Zhou court, inside and out, shone with the glow of a golden age.
At the archery range, Fu Ye’s face turned red with effort as he drew the bow to its limit. With a snap, the arrow hit the target dead-on.
Eunuch Qin, cheeks glowing, showered him with praise: “Your Highness, what strength!”
Fu Ye stretched his arms, then mounted his horse for a ride.
Anyone who knew him would have expected him, after such a long day, to be resting on a couch, enjoying some snacks and tea.
But no—he’d suddenly remembered Fu Huang’s words before departing:
Ride, shoot, build up your strength. I won’t always hold back.
And here he was, trying to make up for lost time. It wasn’t going great. That night, as he bathed, he took off his clothes and examined himself.
Truth be told, he was still a bit too thin.
Maybe even thinner than when Fu Huang had left.
That wouldn’t do—he had to eat more, put some flesh back on.
All along Fu Huang had been sending letters as he journeyed toward the capital. By now, he was only a few hundred miles away.
The closer their reunion drew, the more restless Fu Ye became.
He was filled with anticipation—and nerves.
Fu Huang was still Fu Huang, and yet… somehow not quite the same. Before, he had merely been Da Zhou’s sovereign. Now, he truly held the world in his hands—a ruler destined for the history books. It felt as if he had transformed into someone just a little unfamiliar.
More brilliant, more majestic, someone Fu Ye admired even more deeply. And somehow more distant, more out of reach.
Every day there were small court sessions in the palace now. Xie Xiang and the ministers came daily to report on every detail of governance.
Fu Ye grew more confident, more seasoned with each passing day. When he spoke on matters of state, calm and assured, Eunuch Qin—standing by his side—often thought: if His Highness was once merely virtuous, now he was truly wise.
The Prince of Huan was slender, his beauty a gift of Heaven. Perhaps the Empress Dowager, fearing that his loveliness might outshine his authority and leave him unable to command those crafty old ministers, had ordered the Wardrobe Bureau to prepare new robes for him as the weather grew cold. Each robe more splendid than the last, their colors mostly dark and rich. A black fox-fur coat trimmed with gold and jade, for instance—when Fu Ye sat in it, he truly had the dignity of the imperial house.
It was as if he were a fairer, more radiant young emperor.
Eunuch Qin imagined the emperor’s return—surely His Majesty would be startled to see how much his brother had grown.
It felt as though the nation’s greatness had made the prince greater, too. More regal. More imposing.
With a prince like this at his side, surely Da Zhou would enter an age of glory.
There had been rulers before who shared power with their empresses, known as “the Two Sages.” Perhaps Da Zhou, too, would soon have its own “Two Sages.”
Eunuch Qin could hardly wait to see that day.
As the twelfth lunar month began, the cold deepened with each day.
But in the capital, excitement burned ever brighter.
That fervor spread even to the palace.
Even Fu Ye couldn’t help himself anymore.
The grand ceremonies were all prepared; the entire palace gleamed, freshly restored. In his last letter, Fu Huang had said he was but a hundred miles from the capital, set to arrive on the sixth day of the twelfth month.
But from the fourth night onward, Fu Ye couldn’t sleep.
He was simply too excited.
And when the day itself finally came—oddly enough, the nervousness faded.
His mind was empty of everything except joy, eagerness. Lying awake at night, he felt the tears sting his eyes, imagining over and over how their reunion would be. And when he thought of how Fu Huang must feel the same, his heart raced even more.
On the night of the fifth, he tried to go to bed early, so he could rise at dawn and ride out to greet him.
But he couldn’t sleep.
And it wasn’t just him—Eunuch Qin and the others couldn’t sleep either.
So they huddled by a little brazier, wrapped in quilts, chatting through the night. The more they talked, the more excited they became.
Outside, the northern wind howled. Fu Ye found himself worrying: It’s so cold. I hope Fu Huang hasn’t frozen through out there.
He wrapped himself tighter in his quilt and began pacing the room, glancing at Eunuch Qin—who seemed so overwhelmed he was nearly out of his wits.
The old eunuch had aged so much in these past months. Half a year had felt like half a lifetime. The sight of him made Fu Ye’s heart ache, and brought tears to his eyes.
They talked in fits and starts all the way until dawn.
Then, at the first light, Fu Ye rose and went to bathe and dress.
He put on a dark black cloak embroidered with golden serpentine dragons, and donned a golden crown. At his waist, he wore only the black jade dragon token—everything else was precisely as befit a prince. These days, he set an example by observing the rites even more strictly than before. Leaving Qingyuan Palace, he first went to pay his respects to the Empress Dowager, and then set out from the palace together with her.
The welcoming ceremony had been arranged outside the city walls, and they left the palace at dawn, eager to reach the outskirts early to wait.
On the way, he asked the Empress Dowager, “Your Majesty didn’t sleep much last night either, did you?”
Perhaps because of her complicated feelings toward Fu Huang, the Empress Dowager was more restrained and dignified than usual. It was Sun Palace Attendant at her side who spoke up: “Her Majesty hardly closed her eyes at all last night.”
They’d left so early because they wanted to save the loudest cheers for Fu Huang himself. But as soon as their carriage exited the palace gates, they saw that both sides of the main thoroughfare were already packed with tens of thousands of citizens. And the moment the crowd spotted their carriage, a tidal wave of cheers rose up, shaking the heavens and brightening the dawn.
Sitting inside the carriage, Fu Ye thought: When I meet Fu Huang, we’ll face these cheers together!
Even inside the carriage, he could feel the force of the joy that had been building for more than a month. He could hear, plain as day, how grand the scene outside was.
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!
In that wild celebration, a sheen of sweat broke out on his skin. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding since they’d left the palace.
Once they passed beyond the city gates and reached the outskirts—
It was here, half a year ago, that he had bid Fu Huang farewell. Now, on that same ground, a great platform had been erected. The civil and military officials, members of the imperial clan, and countless nobles of the capital had all gathered—so many that the sea of people stretched beyond what the eye could see. Banners bearing the sun, moon, and stars rippled in the wind, and triumphal arches built of pine branches, silk streamers, and colorful ribbons flanked the ceremonial guard of honor, dazzling and splendid.
He stood there with the Empress Dowager, the cold wind biting at his face—but he felt no chill. His body trembled ever so slightly. Eunuch Qin and Li Dun had long since prepared the emperor’s carriage and robes. When the sun rose higher, he caught sight of the advance party that had gone out to meet the emperor returning along the official road—and then came the company of men clad in golden armor, mounted on tall, majestic horses, galloping toward them.
The crowd began to stir. The ceremonial music swelled. The drums thundered.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Like the beating of his own heart.
He drew a deep breath, and in that golden morning light, he saw the man he had longed for day and night—his beloved, returning in triumph.
Fu Huang rode at the head of the column. Fu Ye could hold back no longer. He left the Empress Dowager’s side, striding quickly forward into the wind.
Fu Huang rode alone to meet him. He wore the black fox-fur robe that Fu Ye had personally chosen for him, the twelve golden dragon threads on his robes billowing like crashing waves in the northern wind, with the sunlight blazing behind him like a sea of gold.
Fu Ye breathed hard, his gaze fixed only on Fu Huang’s face.
The man he had dreamed of day and night.
His hero of heroes.
