The snow fell heavier and heavier, and in less than an hour, the entire imperial palace was blanketed in silver.
Today, everyone in the palace—whether maidservant or eunuch—wore festive red robes. A long line of eunuchs in crimson, each carrying food boxes, wound their way through the mist of snow. The black lacquer boxes in their hands were dusted with an inch of fresh snow. Beside them walked a line of palace maids holding warming braziers, their skirts brushing the thin layer of snow, the chime of their jade pendants ringing in perfect unison. Together, they moved through the white snow like a red serpent, dignified and orderly, entering Fengchun Palace. The sight of this imperial grandeur drew every eye inside the palace hall.
The court ladies straightened their backs even more, wanting to match the elegance of the scene.
Many of the nobles gathered in Fengchun Palace thought the snowfall had come at just the right time—not too early, not too late.
Had it fallen any sooner, the muddy roads outside the capital would have made travel far more difficult. Carriages and boots caked in mud would have been unsightly.
Truly, they thought, Heaven favored His Majesty. Even the timing of the snow seemed to serve him, falling a mere hour later so his triumphal return could proceed unhindered.
Sun Gongzheng quietly shared these bits of court gossip with the Empress Dowager. Recently, she had resolved that, both for the sake of the realm and her own peace, she would speak well of the Emperor at every turn.
These past months, the Empress Dowager had worn plain hairpins and no makeup, clad in unadorned garments as she offered prayers for the soldiers at the front. But today, at last, she dressed in full regalia. Back in Cien Palace, she changed into a silver fox cloak, the collar studded with Eastern pearls. The silver-thread embroidery of a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix shimmered like rippling waves under the lantern light. And still she felt it wasn’t splendid enough—not for vanity’s sake, but to lend greater honor to this day’s grand celebration.
She added a nine-tailed phoenix hairpin, then gazed at herself in the mirror and said, “I think what they said makes good sense.”
Sun Gongzheng lowered her head slightly and smiled.
The Empress Dowager looked at her.
Sun Gongzheng said softly, “Your Majesty truly shows care for the Emperor now.”
The Empress Dowager did not reply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Sun Gongzheng continued, “In the past, Your Majesty and His Majesty each stood on different sides. But now the realm is united, His Majesty enjoys the people’s reverence, and his throne is secure. The grievances of the past can finally be laid to rest. Since Your Majesty has a compassionate heart, why not take the first step? His Majesty has grown far steadier; perhaps in him, at last, Your Majesty will see the wise and virtuous ruler you have long wished for. If the Empress Dowager and the Emperor stand united, old and new nobility as one, the people will surely rejoice.”
The Empress Dowager said nothing, lost in thought.
Just then, a close maid entered and reported, “Your Majesty, His Majesty says he has traveled day and night and is too weary to attend the victory banquet today.”
“…”
The Emperor truly hadn’t changed—still so willful.
But then, he wasn’t doing this for the first time.
And to be fair, he did look weary and worn from the road. Best to let him rest.
What Sun Gongzheng said was not wrong. Where once the Empress Dowager would have been indignant at such behavior, now, hearing the reason, she felt more tenderness than reproach.
“Very well. I’ll go early, so the ministers aren’t left waiting.”
Sun Gongzheng quickly added in the Emperor’s defense, “His Majesty has endured much on campaign these many months. No doubt he is truly exhausted.”
Outside, the snow fell thick, the northern wind howling through the eaves.
Eunuch Qin sat at his post by the door of the guardhouse, warming his hands at a brazier, his feet on a foot-stove, listening to the wailing wind. Now and then, carried faint on the gusts, came what might have been the prince’s cries.
Or perhaps not. The wind was too loud to tell.
His Majesty had ordered everyone to keep their distance. And with the north wind shrieking as it did, even standing beneath the outer eaves, one might not hear clearly.
Inside, Fu Ye bit down on Fu Huang’s inner robe, his tear-filled eyes fixed on him.
This was the emperor who had conquered the realm, undefeated in battle, who now claimed him as his own.
His frame was strong and lean, not wasted by war, but made all the more powerful. He lifted Fu Ye’s legs onto his shoulders, his body taut like a drawn bow, pressing into him, over and over.
As if determined to break through him, to possess him utterly.
Fu Ye felt his whole body go numb—he thought he might die from it. Someone save him.
Eunuch Qin!
Shuangfu!
It was a pity that Fu Huang had ordered everyone away from Chun Chao Hall. Now, even if Fu Ye screamed until his voice broke, no one would hear him.
It was too hot, far too hot—he felt as if he were being burned alive, the fire starting deep inside him and spreading until his whole body blazed.
Outside, the northern wind howled, whipping up the heavy snow so that it flew upwards. The felt coverings of Fengchun Palace were lifted by the gusts, sending everyone into a panic as they rushed to help the palace maids secure the corners again.
At that moment, Chancellor Xie finally had a chance to speak privately with his long-awaited youngest son.
Xie Liangbi had fought with exceptional bravery during the campaign, earning many merits. Back at Shuangluan City, His Majesty had already commended him, and now, having returned to the capital with the Emperor, he would soon receive his rewards and surely rise swiftly through the ranks.
The Chancellor’s recent vigor owed much to the pride he took in this son.
After a few words between father and son, the Empress Dowager’s imperial carriage arrived.
The Chancellor hurried forward to greet her.
Xie Liangbi returned to his seat, casting his gaze across the crowd and seeing the Empress Dowager take her place amid the sea of kneeling courtiers.
She looked around and asked, “Has the Prince of Huan not arrived yet?”
“No, Your Majesty,” came the reply.
The Empress Dowager turned to a lady-in-waiting. “Tell the Prince to come at once.”
With the Emperor absent, she and the Prince would have to hold the court together.
The lady-in-waiting promptly left Fengchun Palace, braving the wind and snow toward Qingyuan Palace.
The storm was fierce, the palace path a vast expanse of white. The further she went, the more silent it became—a stark contrast to the lively scene behind her at Fengchun Palace.
She’d been to Qingyuan Palace before, each time feeling as though she were walking through the gates of death. But today, she felt almost excited. On such a day of celebration, perhaps the Prince might even reward her.
With such thoughts, her robe seemed to fly behind her as she held her golden oil-paper umbrella and made her way to the palace gate.
There, she found Eunuch Qin leaning lazily against the guardhouse door, warming his hands at a brazier, watching the falling snow.
She quickly saluted him.
Recognizing her, Eunuch Qin asked, “Does the Empress Dowager have a message?”
“The Empress Dowager has already arrived at Fengchun Palace,” she replied. “She sent me to hasten the Prince.”
Eunuch Qin ambled outside and said, “The Prince is currently consulting with His Majesty on state affairs. I’m afraid he’ll be delayed. Please ask the Empress Dowager to preside for now.”
The lady-in-waiting glanced at him, then into the courtyard, but saw only a white expanse. The ground bore no footprints; no other eunuchs were in sight. It felt deathly still.
She had delivered her message. And if the Prince and Emperor were indeed discussing state matters, she dared not intrude.
So, holding her umbrella, she hurried back to report.
Eunuch Qin, meanwhile, felt a growing unease.
Their Majesties were still so young, and after months apart, surely they had much to share of their longing for each other. But to what extent, he couldn’t guess.
He thought, with the state banquet about to begin—and in broad daylight, no less—surely it wouldn’t go that far?
Still, he didn’t dare go in. He could only pray His Majesty would be quick about it.
But too quick. Far too quick.
Fu Ye, in terror, tried to crawl away, but after only a few paces he was seized by the ankle and dragged back. With a sickening thud, he was slammed down, the impact knocking the breath from him. His body convulsed twice, and he fainted.
When he came to, hazy and dazed, he heard Fu Huang calling his name. The frantic rhythm of the Emperor’s movements made him wonder—was this how he fought in battle?
The thought sent heat flooding through him. His body could no longer bear the relentless onslaught. Fu Huang’s arm hooked around his neck, and once again he felt his senses slipping away.
And then, the emptiness he’d carried for months was filled, until it overflowed. His eyes, still open, glazed over in that instant.
In Fengchun Palace, the banquet had begun.
Xiao Yichen noticed Xie Liangbi still craning his neck, watching the entrance.
Out on campaign, their meals had been mere sustenance. In Da Liang, the foreign dishes left them longing for home. Now, at this imperial feast, the tables groaned under delicacies even Xiao Yichen—no stranger to fine food—had never seen.
Yet Xie Liangbi barely touched his chopsticks, his gaze flicking to the door each time someone entered.
Could it be that he still hoped to see the Prince of Huan?
Even back at the outskirts of the capital, Xiao Yichen had caught him staring, entranced.
And who could blame him? The Prince of Huan, now more noble than ever, seemed indeed like the sun and moon and stars that shone upon the Great Zhou.
The Prince of Huan’s fame wasn’t limited to the people of Great Zhou—even the common folk of Da Liang knew his name. During the war, there had been word of a Da Liang general boasting that once they conquered Great Zhou, they’d build some kind of platform to lock up the Prince of Huan, which had enraged the Zhou soldiers beyond measure.
In the end, they’d captured that general alive and given him a brutal beating.
The Prince of Huan had become a symbol of Great Zhou, much like the old Yongfu Tower once was—a new emblem for their nation.
Like a pearl set in the crown.
But then again, this was the Emperor’s victory banquet. Why hadn’t His Majesty appeared?
Xie Liangbi no longer harbored any improper thoughts about the Prince of Huan. Compared to seeing the prince, what he truly longed for now was a glimpse of the Emperor himself.
He admired the Emperor deeply.
In the past, he’d only heard of His Majesty’s martial brilliance, his talent in warfare. But back when he served in the palace’s Golden Armored Guard, the Emperor he’d seen was pale and sickly, his imperial majesty overwhelming, but looking more like a dying dragon than a mighty ruler.
Now, when he looked upon the Emperor, it was as if he were gazing at a god.
Only those who had fought on the front lines, where blades flashed and lives hung by a thread, could truly understand the Emperor’s brilliance and courage—how awe-inspiring he truly was.
He noticed a lady-in-waiting lean toward the Empress Dowager and whisper a few words, which made the Empress Dowager furrow her brows.
She glanced toward the palace gates but saw only thick snow falling like goose feathers beyond the doors.
The Emperor wasn’t coming—and he hadn’t sent the Prince of Huan either?
It didn’t look like they were discussing state affairs.
More likely, he hadn’t seen the Prince in so long that he wanted to speak with him privately.
Oh well—let them talk. The banquet would last a good while yet.
The Empress Dowager had become remarkably indulgent toward Fu Huang these days.
At least for today, whatever the Emperor wished to do, she’d let him be.
The banquet hall was filled with lively voices. People kept coming to offer their congratulations, and officials like Chancellor Xie repeatedly offered her toasts. She was in high spirits and accepted every cup they raised to her.
Before long, she felt pleasantly tipsy, unsure how much time had passed. The sky outside had darkened—whether from the coming night or from thick, heavy clouds, she couldn’t tell.
But the Prince of Huan still hadn’t arrived.
What kind of “state affairs” took over an hour to discuss?
She was just about to send someone to summon him again when she heard the announcement from outside:
“The Prince of Huan has arrived!”
Through her haze of wine, she lifted her gaze. Outside the palace gates, under the swirling snow, the imperial carriage had come to a halt. The Prince of Huan, draped in a dark robe embroidered with golden serpents, his black jade crown upon his head, stepped inside, his strikingly handsome features framed by the falling snow. Surrounded by palace attendants, he entered the hall.
Everyone rose to greet him.
Fu Ye truly felt he had done his best.
He could barely stand, but after a quick bath, he still rushed over.
Though both he and Fu Huang had decided to skip the grand banquet tonight, his courage couldn’t quite match Fu Huang’s.
He was afraid the Empress Dowager might grow suspicious.
Upon entering, he first paid his respects to the Empress Dowager. She said, “What state matters could take until now?”
Fu Ye gave a faint, somewhat guilty smile. “Your son was catching up with my elder brother, and we lost track of time.”
The Empress Dowager asked, “Has His Majesty gone to rest?”
Fu Ye nodded. “He’s fast asleep.”
His brother had been pushing day and night, especially the last two days. Fu Huang was truly exhausted.
It wasn’t just the weariness of the body—his spirit had been strung taut all along. Now that he was finally warm and safe, he slept deeply in Chun Chao Hall, deeper than Fu Ye had ever seen him sleep. Fu Huang had always been so alert, but tonight, even when Fu Ye got up, it didn’t wake him.
By now, dusk had fallen, and the banquet was nearing its end.
Fu Ye planned to wrap things up quickly.
He really didn’t have much strength left.
The Chancellor and the other officials came over to offer him toasts.
He accepted each one, exchanging a few polite words with them.
Finally, the Empress Dowager noticed something amiss and asked, “Why is your voice so hoarse?”
“… My throat’s a bit sore,” Fu Ye answered.
Though slightly tipsy, the Empress Dowager was still attentive and caring. She said with concern, “It’s so cold tonight, and you’ve always been delicate. Take care not to fall ill. Since that’s the case, let’s end the banquet early so you can go rest.”
Fu Ye nodded and raised his cup for a final toast.
By now, everyone at the banquet had quieted, their eyes fixed on him.
Fu Ye spoke in a clear, resonant voice, “Since His Majesty led his army to war, we have prayed for his safety day and night. His Majesty, with unmatched strategy and wisdom, has secured victory from a thousand miles away. Our brave soldiers fought valiantly, bringing about this grand achievement. Tonight, let us raise our cups together and wish His Majesty ten thousand years of life, and may our dynasty’s fortune prosper and our peace endure forever!”
Below, the crowd echoed in unison, “Long live His Majesty!”
Then Fu Ye praised the valiant generals who had distinguished themselves in battle, commended the chancellor and senior ministers who had safeguarded the home front, even offered a toast to the Empress Dowager in gratitude, and acknowledged the noble families of the capital who had generously donated to the war effort. His words left no one unappreciated, no courtesy overlooked. Finally, he raised his cup to the people of the realm, praying that peace would last through the ages.
Xiao Yichen, watching from below, was dumbfounded.
Was this really the same Prince of Huan he’d once seen struggling to stay atop a horse during the spring hunt?
The Empress Dowager, too, was deeply moved.
The Prince of Huan had truly come into his own.
She couldn’t help but drink a few more cups in her excitement.
And before she knew it, she’d had a little too much.
Seeing this, Sun Gongzheng turned to Fu Ye and said, “Your Highness, the Empress Dowager is drunk.”
Fu Ye rose at once and personally escorted the Empress Dowager back to her quarters.
Eunuch Qin sent someone to deliver a black cloak.
Fu Ye put it on, and as he did, his gaze happened to fall on a familiar face—standing right beside Chancellor Xie.
It was Xie Liangbi.
They hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Xie Liangbi had been transformed—leaner, sharper, now with the bearing of a true military man.
Fu Ye smiled and gave him a small nod before boarding the imperial palanquin.
By now, the snow was falling thick and fast, dusting his black cloak. He took the paper umbrella from Shuangfu’s hand. The golden oil-paper canopy was painted with the sun and moon sigils of the imperial house. His dark garments deepened his regal air, yet there was a brilliance about him that words could not capture—his lips seemed redder than before, his cheeks radiant beyond compare, so that even the reflected snowlight paled beside his glow.
Xie Liangbi, who until these past months had never seen a battlefield, had never spilled an enemy’s blood, felt as if the chill that had settled deep in his bones had finally begun to thaw. He stood there, motionless, watching Fu Ye’s palanquin disappear into the falling snow.
Chancellor Xie turned away and said to his son, “Come home with me.”
It seemed the time had come to share some truths with this foolish boy.
Though he had never fully grasped what his son yearned for, seeing that dazed, lovesick gaze—he understood now.
But to compete with the Emperor himself? That would be a death wish, no matter how many lives one had to give.
The north wind cut through the covered walkways, carrying snowflakes that clung to Fu Ye’s robe. Even the umbrella was no use against it.
Fortunately, they weren’t far from Cien Palace. Fu Ye glanced at the Empress Dowager beside him. She sat slumped beneath her cloak, seemingly asleep, snowflakes settling on the silvered hair pinned atop her head.
Fu Ye accompanied the Empress Dowager to Cien Palace and made sure she was settled.
She roused halfway, waved him closer.
He drew near and asked gently, “Mother, are you feeling better?”
She didn’t answer at first, but then tears welled up, spilling over. “Tell the Emperor… I’m happy for him.”
Fu Ye’s heart softened. In a warm voice, he said, “I will, I promise.”
She didn’t seem entirely lucid. Sober, she might never have spoken such words. Or perhaps only under the haze of wine could she voice what lay buried in her heart.
Either way, he thought, the storm that had raged around Fu Huang had finally melted away.
With that quiet warmth in his heart, Fu Ye left Cien Palace.
Sun Gongzheng asked if he’d like to switch to a warmer carriage.
Fu Ye shook his head. “No need. I don’t feel cold.”
And truly, he didn’t. The snowstorm felt beautiful to him.
By now the palace grounds were draped in ice and snow. The nobles were lining up to leave, their robes in every hue, the ladies a vision of grace and perfume amid the swirling white.
He cast a glance their way before climbing into his palanquin, heading for Qingyuan Palace.
The wine he’d drunk earlier was beginning to hit him now. He felt limp and heavy, sprawled on the cushioned seat, unwilling to move.
Those still departing the palace caught sight of his golden palanquin swaying gently past. Even cloaked in black, his noble beauty could not be hidden.
The Chancellor was reminded of the first time he had seen the Prince of Huan in the palace—a youth swathed in red brocade and jewels, lounging carelessly on a couch, so fair he seemed less a prince than some treasured consort from the inner chambers.
But looking now, no one would mistake him for a mere consort.
He was the Emperor’s beloved—the one who shared his throne and empire. The second sovereign of Great Zhou in all but name.
Fu Ye’s palanquin made its way toward Qingyuan Palace.
As soon as it reached the walkway outside, the sight of the black bronze deer at the gate made his heart blaze with heat.
Inside, the palace was warm as spring, and the dragon emperor, newly returned from battle, slept deeply, the room faint with the scent of cloves.
Gone was the strange distance of their reunion. All that remained was wave upon wave of love, rising and surging, carrying him forward—until he felt himself lifted and borne through the palace gates.
Snow fell thick and soft, blanketing Qingyuan Palace. In that world of white, Fu Ye stepped down from his palanquin and, wrapped in the storm, made his way toward Chun Chao Hall.
