The accompanying Censor was called Yu Xiaozai. His rank was not high—he was a Supervising Censor of the seventh rank—but like all Censors and Remonstrance Officials, it was a post low in grade yet heavy in authority, empowered to supervise and investigate. Having him step in to mediate between the two sides was the most appropriate choice.
It was the dead of winter, yet Yu Xiaozai was sweating profusely from anxiety. He was used to traveling on inspection duty and handling affairs in the provinces, but he had never found a job this difficult. He could not afford to offend either side. Once he raised his voice, the two men who had been trading barbs immediately turned to look at him.
Yu Xiaozai coaxed them earnestly. “It’s still early. We can present the search documents to the Governor-General and let him review them at his leisure. They’re right here on me anyway.”
As he spoke, he pulled the documents from his robe and handed them to Xiao Chiye.
Xiao Chiye flipped through them briefly and looked toward Chen Yang. Chen Yang immediately said, “This way, my lord.”
Yu Xiaozai clasped his hands together and said, “Now that’s more like it. Everything by the rules—after all, we’re all working for His Majesty. No need to rush, not even a little.”
“The weather outside is cold and the wind bites,” Xiao Chiye hesitated for a moment, “so please, this—”
Yu Xiaozai tactfully cleared his throat and returned to formal speech. “My surname is Yu, given name Xiaozai, courtesy name Youjing. I thank the Governor-General for his consideration. I won’t trouble you for tea—official business isn’t finished yet, and I must continue accompanying the Commander.”
Xiao Chiye did not press him further and merely nodded. Gu Jin stepped forward, bowed to Yu Xiaozai, and led him into the courtyard.
Shen Zechuan ascended the stone steps. Xiao Chiye’s study was already open, attendants standing on both sides with their heads lowered.
Chen Yang said, “This is the Governor-General’s study. Commander, please proceed.”
Shen Zechuan raised his hand. Ge Qingqing shifted aside and nodded to the Jin Yiwei behind him. They immediately dispersed, beginning to examine the books on the open shelves.
Chen Yang gestured for Ding Tao to stand guard there and continued to lead Shen Zechuan onward. After turning past the covered corridor and passing through a doorway, they reached Xiao Chiye’s sleeping quarters.
“This is the Governor-General’s bedchamber,” Chen Yang said. “There are many items bestowed by the Emperor inside. Commander, please inspect them personally.”
Shen Zechuan said, “Much obliged,” and stepped inside.
Xiao Chiye’s room was large, yet unexpectedly austere. Behind the screen stood a long table with horse-hoof legs, upon which rested several military treatises. There were no decorative ornaments, no antiques or calligraphy—only a vast map of the Great Zhou realm hanging horizontally on the wall.
Shen Zechuan picked up one of the military books and opened it. The pages were pristine, as though no one had ever read it.
After some time, the door closed.
Without lifting his eyes from the book, Shen Zechuan said, “Once Censor Yu finishes searching the study, he should come here.”
Xiao Chiye unfastened his cloak and said, “Just the study alone will take until afternoon. Fu Linye is impressive—pushing you over here just to avoid dealing with me.”
“He simply wants to offend no one,” Shen Zechuan said lightly, turning a page. “Finish the search quickly and close the case at once.”
Xiao Chiye tilted his head, gazing through the screen at Shen Zechuan’s silhouette. “Why are you hiding behind there?”
“Checking the accounts,” Shen Zechuan replied.
“What you want to find isn’t there.”
“I won’t know until I finish searching.”
Xiao Chiye lifted a finger and tapped the screen. “Sounds like you’re planning to look for something else.”
“Rebellious writings, bribery ledgers, military correspondence,” Shen Zechuan said toward the screen. “I intend to check them all.”
“You missed something,” Xiao Chiye said. “Lewd poems, obscene verses, secret spring paintings—won’t you take a look at those?”
“I’m on official duty,” Shen Zechuan said softly. “Besides, broad daylight—hardly the time for impropriety.”
The screen was half-translucent, their figures faintly visible. Xiao Chiye’s fingers traced along the shadow until they reached the line of Shen Zechuan’s neck. Though he did not actually touch him, it still sent a shiver of heat through Shen Zechuan, as if caressed.
“Xi Hongxuan treated you to drinks,” Xiao Chiye said with certainty.
“Mm,” Shen Zechuan answered, indifferent.
Xiao Chiye’s fingertips slid to Shen Zechuan’s collar. “Were the flower wines good?”
“Very good,” Shen Zechuan replied unhurriedly.
“Did they make you warm?”
“They did.”
Xiao Chiye was warm as well. Three fingers slid downward, as though peeling open Shen Zechuan’s collar and gliding along his neck, all the way down. Shen Zechuan did not retreat—instead he advanced, letting Xiao Chiye’s fingers drift illusorily across his chest through the misty, ink-wash screen.
“Do you wear earrings?” Xiao Chiye suddenly asked.
“No.” Shen Zechuan tilted his head slightly, exposing his ear. “Do you want me to?”
“I’ll have Second Young Master make you a small jade earring to wear for fun.”
“One?”
“One,” Xiao Chiye said, his gaze following the blurred curve of Shen Zechuan’s neck and ear. “In the right ear.”
Xiao Chiye was used to hooking Shen Zechuan with his right arm. When he flipped him over and lowered his head just a bit, he could take his earlobe between his lips. Pale jade against fair skin—when he brushed aside the sweat-damp hair by Shen Zechuan’s ear, that dazed yet satisfied expression would surely be beautiful.
Shen Zechuan did not answer. He smiled from behind the screen, a smile laden with meaning. Xiao Chiye could not see his eyes, but he could see the curve of his lips—once again exuding that unconscious invitation.
Come hold me.
Come touch me.
Xiao Chiye closed his eyes. Shen Zechuan always left room, and this kind of unspoken line was like incitement, urging his surging desire to crash even harder. He swore he had not been so easily stirred before; his desires had once belonged to the open sky and the wild plains.
“The wine at Lotus Flower Tower is good, and the wine at Xiangyun House is good too,” Shen Zechuan said, utterly unaware of the implications in Xiao Chiye’s silence. “But you spent years carousing at Xiangyun House and never expected its girls to throw themselves into someone else’s arms, did you?”
“New loves and old flames are bound to be different,” Xiao Chiye said. “Now that I’m indulging myself in you, it’s only natural that they’d feel jealous.”
“I didn’t know Xi Hongxuan had taken control of Xiangyun House,” Shen Zechuan said. “Now the girls all speak with one voice, biting down hard on the claim that you accepted bribes. What will you do—go soften these old flames with tenderness and have them revise their testimony?”
Xiao Chiye withdrew his hand. “Xiangyun House’s owner isn’t Xi Hongxuan—at least, not back when I was still frequenting it. Xiangyun herself is adept at social maneuvering, renowned for her talent among civil officials and even the Imperial Academy students. With the little ink Xi Hongxuan has in his belly, there’s no way he could truly subdue her.”
“So what you’re saying is?”
“There are only two possibilities for making Xiangyun give false testimony. One: she’s fallen in love with some noble young master and is willingly stepping forward to kick me while I’m down for his sake. Two: she’s being coerced, and false testimony is her only option,” Xiao Chiye said. “If it’s the latter, then it needs a thorough investigation.”
“Seems old flames still carry some weight,” Shen Zechuan said with a smile.
“Every time there’s movement in the capital’s inspection rotations, the news comes from Xiangyun,” Xiao Chiye said. “For her to suddenly defect—I can’t bear to see her suffer.”
“How considerate of you,” Shen Zechuan said. “The period after the New Year will be critical. Whether you can turn the tide when spring comes depends on how you endure these blows now. Don’t throw your formation into chaos over a beauty.”
“I’m confined at home and can’t go out,” Xiao Chiye said. “I’ll need you to investigate for me. When you do, tell Xiangyun as well that Second Young Master still thinks of renewing his old affection with her.”
Shen Zechuan pushed the screen aside slightly. “I’ve been swamped with affairs lately and may not have the time. Why not have Ding Tao or Gu Jin make the trip for you?”
Xiao Chiye could finally see him clearly. “What’s wrong? Don’t you happen to be staying on East Dragon Street?”
Shen Zechuan was about to answer when he suddenly heard footsteps outside. Before he could move, Xiao Chiye bent sharply, hoisted him over his shoulder, vaulted past the long table in a few strides, and carried him into the inner chamber.
Yu Xiaozai lifted his robe as he climbed the steps, knocked on the door, and called, “Commander?”
Pinned behind a clothes rack, Shen Zechuan could not answer. Casual garments draped over him. He pressed a hand against Xiao Chiye’s chest and turned his neck to speak—but Xiao Chiye suddenly lifted him higher. Shen Zechuan bumped the rack and saw it starting to tip. He immediately raised a leg to brace it. Xiao Chiye seized the opening, hoisted his other leg around his waist, and trapped him firmly against his body.
“He has the right to submit memorials directly to the throne,” Xiao Chiye said slowly. “If he sees you and me together, there’ll be no explaining it.”
Yu Xiaozai knocked again. “Commander, are you within?”
Shen Zechuan gripped Xiao Chiye’s hand and whispered, “Taking advantage of someone isn’t the act of a gentleman.”
“Taking advantage of you?” Xiao Chiye supported his hips, leaned in until their noses nearly touched, and smiled. “Yes. I am.”
They locked eyes, Shen Zechuan’s chest rising and falling.
After receiving no response for a long while, Yu Xiaozai pushed the door open. He stepped inside with the search documents tucked under his arm and began to look around.
Shen Zechuan’s long leg slowly hooked back to pull the clothes rack upright. The movement required his waist and hips to shift subtly. Held in Xiao Chiye’s hands, a sheen of sweat seeped out before he managed to steady the rack.
Once it was stable, Xiao Chiye leaned close to his ear and murmured so softly it was barely a sound, “Actually, it wouldn’t have fallen.”
Shen Zechuan shot him a sidelong look and shaped the words with his lips: You—absolute—bastard.
Xiao Chiye accepted it gladly and whispered again, “Wear the earring, Lanzhou.”
Yu Xiaozai muttered to himself as he inspected the front chamber, then moved toward the inner room.
Shen Zechuan tried to move, but Xiao Chiye deliberately pressed him down, clearly determined not to let him go unless he agreed.
“Wear it,” Xiao Chiye’s breath dampened Shen Zechuan’s ear, the heat seeping inside and making his spine tingle. Smiling, he whispered, “Wear it for me to see.”
Wear it for me to see.
What a brazen demand. Xiao Chiye no longer concealed his wolfish ambition. He pressed his fervent, urgent desire fully against Shen Zechuan, forcing him to feel that scorching intensity.
That night when they fell into the abyss, they had merged in despair—bloody chests and bellies pressed together, every vulnerability laid bare. Xiao Chiye had no intention of savoring it alone come dawn. He wanted to grip Shen Zechuan’s ankle, drag him back bit by bit, imprison him within a tide of desire meant only for the two of them.
Yu Xiaozai had reached the hanging curtain. Shen Zechuan clenched the fabric at Xiao Chiye’s chest, locking eyes with him at breath’s distance.
Yu Xiaozai lifted the curtain and saw no one inside the inner chamber. Casual clothes lay in disarray on a rack in the corner. He could not conveniently rummage through them, so he could only survey the room with his eyes.
Under the bed, Shen Zechuan struggled to breathe. The space was far too small for two people. Xiao Chiye’s chest pressed him so hard he could only gasp with his mouth open; the solid weight of that body was overwhelming.
Xiao Chiye lowered his head and stared at him.
Shen Zechuan sensed it at once and silently mouthed, No. Don’t. Don’t—
Xiao Chiye kissed him, stealing away his chance to breathe. Shen Zechuan’s fingers tightened, digging into Xiao Chiye’s back until it hurt, yet Xiao Chiye still forced him toward suffocation. That near-fainting sensation left Shen Zechuan helpless against Xiao Chiye’s advance.
It felt like drowning in deep water—only Xiao Chiye was the driftwood that could save him. Yet that very driftwood was forcefully conquering him, striking like towering waves, carving the moment into his bones. Xiao Chiye wanted him to remember this ruthlessness, to remember the terror of being gradually overtaken.