Chapter 21
Back inside the hall, Fu Ye asked, “How’s the investigation on the statue going?”
Fu Huang replied, “The monks at the temple said a few out-of-town devotees fished it out of the river and paid to have it gilded. But the travel permits they used were all fake.”
In ancient times, ordinary people couldn’t travel freely. They needed official passes listing their name, origin, reason for travel, and—if they were merchants—details about their goods. Dingzhou was close to the capital, and inspections there were stricter. Smuggling in a massive statue without being noticed? Not easy.
This had the markings of a coordinated operation.
Outside, it had started to drizzle. Fu Huang saw the worry on Fu Ye’s face and said, “They’re already following leads. You don’t need to worry about it anymore. I heard the pomegranate blossoms behind the palace have bloomed. Go cut a few branches for me to see.”
Fu Ye realized this was his first time being involved in state affairs. Fu Huang might dote on him, but governing was another matter entirely. And this wasn’t a minor issue. It really wasn’t his place to get involved further. So he told Qingxi to bring an umbrella and led the attendants to the rear gardens.
The spring rain misted everything. A soft green shimmer spread over the trees and grasses inside and outside the palace. Besides the tender green of willow branches, the most striking sight was the vast stretch of fiery red pomegranate blossoms outside the palace walls—lush and vivid, drenched in rain.
He picked a few extra branches and had Shuangfu deliver some to the Empress Dowager and Lady Zhang. On the way back, they passed the Red Blossom Palace. The gates were tightly shut.
Consort Ning lived on a small island. Her palace had always been quiet, but now, with the gates closed and the reeds on the shore still dry while everything else had turned green—it felt dead. He used to think the dry reeds were beautiful. Now it seemed this island was cut off from the world. Even spring couldn’t reach it.
He stood on the lake embankment, holding the flowers. The robe he wore—Fu Huang’s—was simple and loose, nearly devoid of decoration. It made the bright red flowers in his hands appear even more vivid. The spring water was as still and green as a jade mirror, cold and reflective. His silhouette mirrored his feet on the surface.
He stood for a long while. The rain and wind made his hands and feet go numb. Thoughts of Consort Li drifted through his mind. The entire palace felt colder and lonelier.
He had no idea what fate awaited him, this counterfeit prince.
“This wind’s getting colder. You should head back, Your Highness,” Qingxi said.
Fu Ye finally turned toward Zhengyang Palace.
Outside the palace gate, he saw a few young men holding umbrellas. They were richly dressed, elegant in bearing. When they saw him approach, they immediately bowed.
He spotted Xie Liangbi right away—he really was the cream of the crop among noble sons.
Fu Ye nodded. “Is Prime Minister Xie inside?”
Xie Liangbi hadn’t expected Fu Ye to speak to him. He quickly bowed. “Yes, he is.”
Fu Ye walked a few steps, then turned back. “Xie Liangbi.”
Xie Liangbi froze, then bowed again. “At your service, Your Highness.”
Fu Ye and the palace attendants were all holding bright red pomegranate blossoms. The rain made the petals glisten like rouge. But with Fu Ye standing there, no one noticed the flowers.
Fu Ye smiled. “I read your poem. It was very well written.”
Xie Liangbi looked stunned. He bowed in a hurry, clearly caught off guard. He wasn’t sure how to respond. His ears turned red almost instantly. By the time he looked up again, Fu Ye had turned toward the palace gate. The doors opened, and Prime Minister Xie and the other officials were already coming out.
They saluted. “Your Highness.”
Fu Ye nodded with a faint smile. “Thank you all for your hard work.”
He walked off with his attendants. Xie Liangbi held his umbrella up over the prime minister’s head but glanced back toward Fu Ye. The Prime Minister sighed. Xie Liangbi lowered his voice, “Has His Majesty made a decision?”
Even outside Zhengyang Palace, Assistant Minister of Justice Zhou Kui spoke cautiously. “His Majesty has always ruled with thunderous force. He governs through awe.”
Xie Liangbi frowned slightly. “This decision… may not be wise.”
Prime Minister Xie glared at him. “You’re part of the Golden Guard. Don’t meddle where you don’t belong.”
Xie Liangbi didn’t respond, just turned to look once more at Zhengyang Palace. He saw Fu Ye enter the main hall. Chief Eunuch Qin, who served the Emperor personally, welcomed him with a bright smile and took the pomegranate blossoms from his hands.
Later that day, Shuangfu returned from Ziyang Palace, reporting that Lady Zhang had fallen ill.
She was almost eighty. The trip had been taxing, and the recent events had shaken her. She had felt unwell since morning. The Empress Dowager was personally tending to her, and Fu Ye remained at her side until dinner time.
Just as he stepped out of the palace, he saw a familiar figure standing in the rain outside.
Xie Liangbi stood alone with an umbrella. When he saw Fu Ye, he bowed his head. “Your Highness, I have something to ask of you.”
Fu Ye walked over. “You’re here to see me?”
Xie Liangbi nodded.
He wore a black gauze headpiece and a rust-colored, narrow-sleeved robe. The front of the robe bore the Golden Guard’s distinctive round tiger emblem. A black leather belt cinched his slim waist. In the lamplight of the rainy night, he looked radiant—sharp and striking like a tree of jade.
Xie Liangbi asked, “Have you heard how His Majesty plans to handle those involved with the demonic statue?”
Fu Ye, looking at his face, was momentarily distracted. “How is he handling it?”
A palace maid happened to walk by just then. Fu Ye stepped forward a few paces. Qingxi held the umbrella for him, casting a cold glance at Xie Liangbi.
Xie Liangbi said, “Six people were executed. Dozens more were imprisoned, including monks from Shanyuan Temple and several officials from Dingzhou.”
Fu Ye paused for a moment, then replied seriously, “Spreading demonic rumors like that shakes the foundation of the state and misleads the people. Who knows what sinister intentions were behind it? If my brother hadn’t responded with a show of force, how would he have sent a warning? There’s nothing wrong with how he handled it.”
Xie Liangbi said, “Of course traitors deserve death. But His Majesty plans to hang the heads of the main culprits in Shanyuan Temple to make an example of them. That’s… truly disturbing.”
Fu Ye was momentarily stunned.
Xie Liangbi continued, “Our dynasty has many followers of the Buddha. This Shanyuan Temple case has already caused a stir. If those heads are hung in a sacred place, I fear it will shock the people too deeply. Instead of remembering the criminals’ sins, they’ll only be left fearing His Majesty’s wrath.”
Though his tone was restrained, Fu Ye understood exactly what he was implying.
Given Fu Huang’s nature, a harsh crackdown was to be expected. He always acted decisively and never had much regard for gods or spirits. But displaying severed heads in a temple… Even Fu Ye found that horrifying.
He turned to Xie Liangbi. “So you want me to speak to the Emperor?”
Xie Liangbi bowed. “At this point, I believe only you have the power to stop it, Your Highness.”
Fu Ye looked at him for a moment. Xie Liangbi, sensing the silence dragging on, glanced up—and immediately met Fu Ye’s gaze. He dropped his head again at once.
He hadn’t planned this in advance; it was a moment of impulse. And now that he had voiced it, nerves crept in. When their eyes met, his heart leapt. Then Fu Ye said:
“I understand.”
Only after Fu Ye had walked away did Xie Liangbi straighten up. A palace attendant in green robes held an umbrella over the prince’s head. In the night rain, Fu Ye turned once to glance back at him—tall and graceful, solemn and serene.
Xie Liangbi’s heart stirred wildly. He’d acted on impulse, but now he felt flushed, blood running hot.
“Will Your Highness really speak up?” came an unexpected voice—it was Jingxi, who rarely spoke. “His Majesty has always handled things this way. You should think twice.”
Fu Ye looked at him.
Jingxi said, “Xie Liangbi’s father is the Grand Chancellor. The Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Inspectors’ Office are all involved in this case. None of them dare speak up—yet they want Your Highness to do it?” He hesitated, then added, “You are in great favor right now. There’s no need to risk that.”
Fu Ye replied, “If no one dares to take the risk, then in the end, it’s the emperor who’ll be left exposed to danger.”
Jingxi looked up at him in surprise—clearly, he hadn’t expected such a reply. Then he bowed his head again, his expression turning even more solemn.
Back in Zhengyang Palace, Fu Ye found Fu Huang reclining on a couch with his eyes closed. Hearing someone enter, he opened them and said, “Is Ziyang Palace short on attendants?”
Fu Ye replied, “When an elder is ill, it’s a junior’s duty to serve them—even just to stand nearby. It’s good for one’s reputation, too. You’re not the type to care about such things, so someone has to do it.”
Fu Huang said coolly, “How dutiful of you.”
Fu Ye smiled faintly. An attendant brought hot water for him to wash his hands. After cleansing and removing his outer robe and hairpin, he looked more relaxed—more like someone at home. Only then did he ask:
“Is the Shanyuan Temple case closed?”
Fu Huang said, “You’re still fretting about that?”
His gaze was sharp—he could even see when Fu Ye was worried.
Now that the case was resolved, Fu Huang seemed in better spirits. “We arrested many members of the Red Lotus Society earlier. They’re the ones stirring up trouble again.”
Fu Ye sat down beside him. “So what does Imperial Brother plan to do with them?”
Fu Huang looked at him.
Fu Ye said, “They tried to sow unrest. They should all be executed.”
Fu Huang narrowed his eyes. “You’ve heard something, haven’t you?”
Fu Ye replied, “I heard that you plan to hang their heads in the temple.”
Fu Huang said indifferently, “A few of the monks were complicit too.”
“They committed crimes, so whether punished or executed, it’s deserved. But hanging heads in a temple… don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
Fu Huang stared at him in silence, his expression unreadable.
Fu Ye quickly added, “If it weren’t for Your Majesty accompanying us on that trip, those conspirators might’ve gotten away with their scheme. It was your sharp insight and decisive action that caught them all in one sweep. The people should be singing praises of your wisdom and bravery right now. But if you hang their heads at a temple, wouldn’t that shift the public’s attention to the gruesome display instead? Some might even start blaming you for disrespecting the gods! No matter how you look at it, that move doesn’t add up.”
He glanced at Fu Huang after he finished speaking.
Fu Huang lounged on the couch, his expression darkening again. “So smooth-tongued. You disagree with me?”
Fu Ye smiled even more brightly. Knowing he had recently gained Fu Huang’s favor, he boldly sat down by his leg and looked up at him. “You don’t believe in gods, Brother, but the common people do. They’ll be scared out of their wits seeing something like that, and who knows what they’ll think of you. It’s not good for your reputation. If you ask me, just hand the case over to the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review. They’re paid to handle these things. You’ve already got your hands full with state affairs. Why pay these ministers only to do their job for them?”
“You’ve been battling your head illness for a long time. Sure, the toxins are part of it, but overwork doesn’t help either. You really should rest more, and worry less.”
Even Chief Eunuch Qin couldn’t help but nod along—he thought it made a lot of sense.
“I’ve heard that the wisest rulers let their ministers take the heat—earn the good name themselves while letting others carry the blame for the dirty work. Now that’s real political finesse. But you—Brother—you’re too upright and decent!”
Eunuch Qin gave a loud cough.
Heavens! In his entire life, he had never heard anyone call His Majesty “upright and decent.”
Fu Ye laid his head on Fu Huang’s knee. Fu Huang’s body stiffened. Looking down at him, Fu Ye continued softly, “Even though I haven’t been back long, it’s clear to me how hard you’ve had it. There’s all kinds of gossip going around about you—you probably know. Others might not dare say it, but I’m your younger brother. If I don’t speak up, who will?”
“When I was abroad, there was this village that lived near a mountain where a fierce tiger roamed. Everyone feared it, no one dared go near. But one day, someone discovered it had fallen ill and was weak. The whole village immediately rose up and killed it. Ruling through fear might bring short-term peace, but it won’t last. Everyone’s too afraid of you right now. If one day there’s unrest, or if you, like that tiger, show even a hint of weakness… I fear you’ll be in real danger.”
Eunuch Qin was stunned.
That kind of talk—far too disrespectful! My lord, how could you speak like that?
His Majesty was not someone easily swayed by threats!
Nervously, he glanced at Fu Huang, unsure of how he would react—but to his surprise, Fu Huang’s face remained unreadable, showing no sign of anger or disapproval.
Thank heavens. His Majesty had seen enough of the world, been cursed to his face more than once. Perhaps… he was simply used to it by now?
Fu Huang only said, “I didn’t realize you were thinking that far ahead.”
But then Fu Ye, perhaps intentionally twisting his words, leaned his head against Fu Huang’s knee and looked up with wide eyes. “It’s because I want to stay by Your Majesty’s side for a long, long time. I’m not just flattering you—I’m the prince you ennobled yourself. If something happens to you, what would I do? Whether it’s out of loyalty or personal affection, every word I said came from the heart!”
That part—was nothing but the truth.
Because he’d been favored, they were now bound together.
For the first time, it occurred to Fu Huang: a ruler’s favor, especially one with a notorious reputation, could be just as deadly as a blade. He had indulged Fu Ye without restraint, forgetting that he was not destined for a long life. When the end came, what would become of Fu Ye?
Looking at him now—so spoiled, so carefree—it was clear that even if he were to inherit the throne, he’d be nothing more than a puppet. Better to remain a pampered prince under his protection, than suffer under the weight of an empire. The boy couldn’t even sit still long enough to read a book—how could he handle state affairs day in and day out? That frail little body might not even last a few years.
But if he were to drag Fu Ye down to hell with him, Fu Ye would certainly be unwilling.
Letting him become emperor might be the best outcome.
Still, with a boy as clever and sly as this, who knew how much of what he said was real?
Fu Huang looked down at him. What he saw was a cascade of jet-black, thick hair flowing loosely over his shoulders, completely unadorned—yet more striking than the finest silk. Fu Ye suffered from chronic migraines, and had little patience for subtlety. His style was swift, even ruthless. He didn’t care for hidden hearts, only visible fear. As long as people feared him, that was enough. He never cared for lasting rule, nor believed he’d live to see it.
But now, in this moment—for this one person—he wanted to live a few years longer.
He gently lifted a lock of that silky hair, wanting nothing more than to hear another sweet lie.
“You really want to stay by my side for a long, long time?”
“Of course I do!”
Fu Ye had always been quick with honeyed words. It was hard to tell if he meant them. But now, tilting his delicate face upward, his expression seemed utterly sincere. His life had been filled with too much bitterness and loneliness—even this fleeting illusion was enough to deceive Fu Huang. Or maybe it wasn’t the promise itself that moved him—but the fact that it came from Fu Ye’s lips.
Those four simple words, “a long, long time,” carried the weight of mountains. In an instant, they buried years of arrogance and recklessness in Fu Huang’s heart.
