Yu Xiaozai was about to crouch, gathering up his robe, when Xiao Chiye knocked over his wine cup. Han Cheng, sitting nearby, got splashed, his robe ruined. Yu Xiaozai abandoned the tiles and quickly retrieved a cloth to wipe him clean. Cen Yu, still squinting at his hand, narrowly avoided the splash, prompting Kong Qiu to burst into laughter.
Han Cheng tugged at his robe and said to Xiao Chiye, “Marquis, you’ve truly had too much—you can’t even hold your hands steady!”
Xiao Chiye raised his hand in apology. “My apologies. I’ll have someone replace your robe tomorrow.”
“No need. A robe isn’t worth much.” Han Cheng wasn’t about to insist on compensation, and he didn’t want to hurt face. He laughed, “Consider this cup your toast to me, Marquis!”
Shen Zechuan had already withdrawn his foot and bent to pick up the fallen tiles, placing them back on the table. He felt the lingering warmth from Xiao Chiye’s fingers at his ankle, and the sound of his laughter made it burn even more.
Kong Qiu, drunk, was completely different from his usual stern demeanor in court. He tapped his porcelain cup with his chopsticks, singing an incomprehensible tune in the chaotic atmosphere.
Cen Yu tugged at his sleeve. “Bo Ran! Stop singing and go home to sleep. Tomorrow you have to preside over Xi Hongxuan’s trial!”
Kong Qiu lifted his cup and beat on it even more merrily. “I’ll preside! I’ll remember!”
Cen Yu couldn’t restrain him. “Luckily, I invited you tonight. Otherwise, with your wild behavior, you’d surely get reprimanded.”
“Reprimand me, then!” Kong Qiu said. “Censors must dare to speak.”
“That’s right, exactly!” Han Cheng laughed. “So much pressure before spring—it’s rare to have a carefree drink. Let him enjoy himself.”
“This is enough for tonight. If it went on too late, the Grand Secretariat would be displeased.” Xiao Chiye stood and called for Chen Yang. “Send Minister Kong back in my carriage.”
Servants surged forward, and Chen Yang helped Kong Qiu out the door. Cen Yu wiped the sweat from his brow and told the remaining guests, “You don’t know, Bo Ran used to be wild and unruly. But the Grand Secretariat emphasizes restraint and propriety—he reined him in. Still, one shouldn’t drink too much. Wait here; I’ll have the cook prepare some sobering broth before you leave.”
“I’m just looking forward to the Geta soup from your household!” Han Cheng wasn’t polite. “Add plenty of vinegar. I won’t leave until I’ve had it.”
Shen Zechuan bowed. “The prison has urgent cases early tomorrow; I won’t stay. Please enjoy, gentlemen. When time allows, I will invite you again.”
Han Cheng, aware of Shen Zechuan’s busy schedule, said, “You served in the southern pacification office before. With military engineers strict there, and now moving to the northern office, there’s no rush. Those below recognize your ability—they won’t make things difficult.”
Shen Zechuan responded politely. Cen Yu insisted on escorting him, and Shen Zechuan could not refuse. They stepped out together. Outside, the rain was heavy and mist thick; the fresh air swept away the heat from wine, leaving them invigorated.
Cen Yu led him down the steps. “You must have postponed some official duties to attend tonight?”
“Not really,” Shen Zechuan replied with a smile. “All urgent matters were sealed and concluded earlier today.”
“Good. Don’t let work be delayed.”
Cen Yu escorted him to the gate, ordering lanterns and umbrellas. He truly valued Shen Zechuan’s talent—if only he weren’t serving in the Embroidered Guard.
“The prison deals with major cases, beyond the reach of the three judicial offices. This post is a meteoric rise. Be careful and prudent. There’s a saying: to serve the sovereign is like standing by a tiger. Those who work at court must be sharp-witted. Don’t worry about seniority—you’ve already achieved early success. Time is long; aside from official duties, don’t rush anything else. The Marquis of Dingdu is no mere dilettante. You’ll inevitably work together in future affairs. Tonight, old grudges are set aside. Even if you don’t become confidants, being capable allies is better than meeting with envy. Lanzhou, I value your talent—step steadily, and accomplish your career.”
Shen Zechuan was moved by Cen Yu’s sincerity and bowed. Cen Yu helped him upright. “The roads are slippery in this rain. Take care.”
Shen Zechuan donned the pure white fur coat gifted by Li Jianheng. He bade farewell to Cen Yu, refusing a sedan chair. Qiao Tianya held the umbrella; master and servant walked into the rain.
They hadn’t gone far when the sound of hooves came from behind. Qiao Tianya shook off the rain and stepped aside, spotting Xiao Chiye racing toward them on horseback.
“Perfect timing, I—”
Before Qiao Tianya could finish, Xiao Chiye swooped in, lifting Shen Zechuan onto his horse. Muddy water splashed onto Qiao Tianya. He raised his arms, finishing his sentence slowly: “…wanted a little rice wine.”
Xiao Chiye’s limbs were taut and strong; cradling Shen Zechuan didn’t hinder him at all. They galloped, his solid chest pressing against Shen Zechuan like iron.
Riding through the dark, rainy night, it was as if lightning had struck—the horse splashing through puddles, straight toward the city gate.
“Who rides at night?!” the watch atop the walls shouted.
Xiao Chiye wrapped Shen Zechuan in his cloak and held up his official badge. “Open the gate.”
“Marquis!” the commander saluted and called out. “Open at once!”
The gate thundered open. They raced through the storm. The wind whipped their faces; the horse grew faster, and Hai Dongqing followed closely behind.
Shen Zechuan clutched the horse, saying, “Don’t get too far—tomorrow—”
Xiao Chiye grabbed his chin, tilting his head to kiss him. Shen Zechuan, unskilled in riding, had nothing to hold onto besides Xiao Chiye. One hand pressed the jolting horse, the other on Xiao Chiye, unable to look ahead, his eyes soaked with rain.
They hadn’t seen each other in seven or eight days.
Xiao Chiye tightened his hold, pressing Shen Zechuan close, kissing along his jaw to the side of his neck.
Shen Zechuan’s robes were disheveled; the white fur partially revealed his official attire beneath. When he looked up, the black rain-soaked night blurred into his vision. Raindrops slid into his collar, soaking the fabric—and him. He twisted Xiao Chiye’s robe, gasping as he tangled them together.
The rain poured harder, the horse raced blindly. Their path vanished into the night. The horse carried two lovers in secret.
Shen Zechuan closed his eyes, trembling from sweat and wet. Xiao Chiye said nothing, hooves pounding the mud. Several jolts made Shen Zechuan gasp out loud.
Xiao Chiye was also sweating, the wine enhancing his vigor. In this wild pleasure, every motion was perfectly timed, leaving Shen Zechuan unable to resist, unable to escape.
“Feels good?” Xiao Chiye asked, fingers interlaced as he held him.
“Mm…” Shen Zechuan murmured.
“Next time, pick a proper place,” Xiao Chiye said. He touched Shen Zechuan’s earlobe, fastening the pendant. He lifted the wet hair and kissed it.
Shen Zechuan tilted his neck; the jade pendant swung. He touched it in a daze, opening his mouth several times, his breaths broken. In the spring tide, he watched Xiao Chiye, half understanding, half not.
Xiao Chiye drained the last of his gentleness.
Spring’s warmth was treacherous—it was the season for play. Bad seeds loved to play. Together, they could stir up a storm. A glance carried suggestion, a thrill ran up the spine, a temptation to strip away all pretense. Nobody could know the wantonness hidden beneath their robes.
Once alone, their true selves emerged.