Early the next morning, Eunuch Qin personally led a group of red-robed palace attendants to deliver clothes to Fu Ye.
The sky was just turning pale at the horizon, the courtyard still glowing with the faint light of horn-shaped lanterns. Fu Ye was in the middle of washing up and getting dressed.
Next door, the emperor had already risen. Though the sleeping chamber was full of attendants, everything proceeded in quiet order, each person knowing their role. The only sound was the rustle of fabric.
Fu Ye’s quarters, on the other hand, were buzzing with activity. Attendants in blue robes came and went in quick succession. At the entrance to the main hall, Eunuch Qin stood with a group of red-robed palace stewards. The two groups met—red and green like clashing brushstrokes—before the blue-robed attendants bowed, presented their copper basins and cloths, and then quietly withdrew.
Only once they had left did Eunuch Qin lead the red-robed officials from the main hall inside.
Spring attire generally consisted of three layers: an inner shirt, a lined robe, and an outer robe. What the emperor had sent were outer robes.
The Emperor had a peculiar fixation.
He liked to see Prince Huan wearing his clothes.
Had it been just any man’s clothes, perhaps it wouldn’t have raised eyebrows—after all, lending clothes occasionally was nothing strange. But doing so daily was something else entirely.
Yet the emperor was no ordinary man. And dragon robes were not garments just anyone could wear.
What’s more—Fu Huang was no ordinary emperor.
Whatever he did, no one questioned it.
Whatever he did, no one dared to overthink it.
His Majesty’s harem had stood empty for years—no women, no men.
Now, giving his own garments to Prince Huan was seen as a sign of extraordinary favor. The emperor’s clothes, granted to someone else!
“Is that what it means?” Fu Ye asked.
As he helped him dress, Eunuch Qin replied, “Of course. This kind of favor—across all of history, only Your Highness has ever received such honor.”
Xiao Ai muttered, “Clearly shows how much the Emperor craves familial affection!”
And since everyone thought that, then it must be true.
No need to overanalyze it.
Today, the outfit Qin had brought had just been finished by the Bureau of Garments two days prior.
The emperor, who now didn’t so much as dip his fingers into spring water, had only worn it once—it was practically new.
But if one leaned in, one could catch the familiar bitter medicinal scent always clinging to Fu Huang’s body. Mixed with the faint trace of “Snowgreen,” the incense used in his quarters, it formed a unique fragrance—subtle, and surprisingly pleasant.
A happy accident, really.
Fu Ye couldn’t help but lift his arm and sniff it again.
He thought to himself that the emperor must have put in considerable effort just to get him to wear it. The robe sent today was a soft apricot hue, its hem embroidered with elaborate cloud patterns that seemed to billow upward like mist. It was exquisite, to say the least.
In their dynasty, the emperor held that the Zhou Dynasty followed the virtue of water, and thus prized the color black. His own wardrobe reflected this—Fu Huang rarely wore anything else. Since he was never picky about what he wore, and the Garment Bureau didn’t want to risk upsetting him, they defaulted to safe, standard black for all his clothes.
So this apricot-colored robe stood out—plain yet refined. With a golden-threaded crown atop his head, a tasseled belt at his waist, he looked striking. Even Eunuch Qin couldn’t help but shower him with praise.
The old eunuch even offered a gentle suggestion, “Would Your Highness like to go let His Majesty see?”
Since the emperor liked seeing Prince Huan in his garments, surely seeing it for himself would bring him joy.
And if Prince Huan took the initiative to show him, that would make him even happier.
Upon hearing this, Fu Ye immediately made his way to Qingyuan Palace.
So obedient—how could Eunuch Qin not feel doting affection?
He rushed ahead to announce the prince’s arrival personally.
These days, Fu Huang slept a little earlier than before. Though his total sleep time had increased by perhaps an hour or so, his rest was still poor, so he’d already gotten up. He hadn’t left his couch, though—he was reclining there, reviewing memorials.
Attendants from the Secretariat quietly stood off to the side.
After Eunuch Qin made his report, Fu Ye stepped past the folding screen into the room. The officials kept their heads bowed, utterly unmoved by his presence. It was palace policy: during official duties, even if the emperor himself appeared, they were not required to bow—just to mind their tasks.
So as Fu Ye passed among them, it felt as if he were walking through a crowd of red-paper effigies.
There was something about the Qingyuan Palace that always gave Fu Ye the feeling of the underworld.
Fu Huang was draped in a long black cloak, wearing only a light inner garment beneath. The sight of him—at once commanding and at ease—made Fu Ye smile as he stepped forward.
“Here to wish Royal Brother a good morning,” he said cheerfully.
The eunuchs standing by the couch were all dressed in red, making Fu Ye, in his pale apricot robe, appear all the more striking—crisp, elegant, and radiant.
Since Fu Huang was in the middle of work, Fu Ye didn’t linger. After his formal greeting, he turned to leave. As he exited, he couldn’t help but glance back, noting that the cloak draped over the emperor looked remarkably like one he himself had worn just a few days ago.
But surely, it wasn’t the same one.
The emperor’s cloaks were never worn twice without being replaced. Fu Huang was anything but frugal in matters of clothing and food—he was meticulous about cleanliness.
His robes often looked nearly identical, especially the black ones. The Bureau of Garments, ever cautious, made several duplicates of the same design to avoid mishaps. Only when tailoring clothes for Fu Ye did they allow themselves to try new colors and patterns.
Outside, daylight had broken. In the distance, a wisp of white smoke curled upward from Yongchang Mountain to the south. The morning was still, and without wind, the smoke rose straight into the sky. Standing along the walkway, it was a breathtaking sight.
That smoke came from the Yongfu Pagoda. To this day, the fire at its base had yet to be fully extinguished.
Later that day, His Majesty would again preside over court from the Hall of Governance—and, once again, Prince Huan would be there to observe.
It almost seemed like he wanted everyone to see.
Imagine that—seeing a hint of brotherly affection from a man who had slaughtered his own siblings. Who would believe such a thing?
Well, Chancellor Xie and the others certainly did.
Word had recently come from the Empress Dowager’s palace that the emperor had withdrawn the decree to display severed heads at the temple only after being persuaded by Prince Huan.
An emperor possessed absolute power. And if the emperor happened to be like this one—unyielding, willful—then not even a minister’s life-risking protest could make him change his mind. Historically, when emperors grew unreasonable, it often fell to a wise empress or gentle concubine to use soft words and affection to temper their ruler’s cruelty.
To move him with emotion.
But the current emperor had no one in his harem. And now, it seemed Prince Huan had taken up that role.
Did this mean that, going forward, if the ministers had something difficult to say, they could deliver it through Prince Huan? If the emperor flew into one of his rages, could they plead with the prince for their lives?
Until recently, the officials had treated Fu Ye with respectful distance—cautious, uncertain how the emperor truly regarded this new prince. No one dared draw too close. But now, even from afar, they would hurry over to pay respects.
Especially the nobles serving in the Imperial Guard closest to the Inner Court—they all hoped to climb up by clinging to this new high branch that was Prince Huan.
Prince Huan was gentle, good-natured, and evidently deeply favored by the emperor. In their private banquets, these guards had begun to murmur among themselves: Prince Huan was destined for unimaginable fortune.
The emperor had no harem. Everyone speculated—he likely would never produce an heir. On top of that, he was known to be gravely ill, his poor health no secret. He didn’t look like someone destined for longevity. And now that he was allowing Prince Huan to participate in state matters, wasn’t he clearing a path for him?
Some said he might soon be named Crown Younger Brother—next in line for the throne.
If there was a thigh to cling to, now was the time. Prince Huan had yet to gather close confidants.
Of course, people like Liu Jiahui and Xiao Yichen were eagerly hoping to become part of the prince’s inner circle.
Unfortunately, the Imperial Guard weren’t allowed into the Inner Court, and Prince Huan seldom appeared outside it. The only place they might catch a word with him was along the corridor outside the Hall of Governance.
That walkway connected directly to the Outer Court. Since the Qingyuan Palace was tucked in the palace’s northeastern corner, Chancellor Xie and the others rarely entered from the south. Instead, they came in through Dongchen Gate, where they would usually be escorted by the Golden Armored Guard along the corridor to the Hall of Governance—where the handover to the Black Armored Guard took place.
Sometimes, when His Majesty held court in the Hall of Governance, it was the Golden Armored Guards who escorted the ministers out afterward.
That brief moment was the only chance they had to even come near Prince Huan.
But most of the time, it was nothing more than a passing glance.
Actually getting to speak with the prince? That took luck.
No one was more anxious about this than Xiao Yichen.
Once a notorious playboy in the pleasure quarters, he was known across the capital’s noble circles for his striking looks—and, more scandalously, his impressive endowments. He had no shortage of admirers and was infamous for it.
Who would’ve thought he’d fall for Prince Huan?
And ever since he’d lost the chance to see him up close, the man had been pining so hard he was practically wasting away.
“I heard Li Cong’s been transferred to the Black Armored Guard,” someone said. “He’s a personal bodyguard for the prince now. Yesterday at Ming Tower, he couldn’t stop bragging.”
“He probably got there through his cousin, Li Dun, didn’t he?”
“Chen-ge, maybe you should ask him for help? Li Dun doesn’t have a high post, but the emperor trusts him more than anyone.”
But Xiao Yichen and Li Cong had always been bitter rivals. Xiao would never stoop to begging him.
Just then, he heard someone sniffle behind him. He turned and saw Wei Sime, eyes red and watery.
The sight only annoyed him more. “You’re a man. What the hell are you crying for?” he snapped.
Wei Sime mumbled timidly, “Li Cong’s a liar. He’s good at pretending.”
Xiao Yichen’s heart sank even further.
This wasn’t just about whether he could win the prince’s favor anymore.
Li Cong was a scoundrel—and a clever one. Word had it that he once drunkenly said he’d be willing to live as Prince Huan’s dog, if it meant staying by his side.
Even if the prince had to choose someone else to favor… it couldn’t be Li Cong.
Li Cong was the type who could charm even straight men into submission.
Xiao cast a glance across the room at Xie Liangbi, who was quietly resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, lost in thought.
His father, Chancellor Xie, was constantly in the palace. And as his youngest and most cherished son, Liangbi had no trouble getting close to the prince.
Xiao considered asking him to warn Prince Huan—to tell him to be cautious around Li Cong.
But then again… what if Xie Liangbi used it as an opportunity to cozy up to the prince?
He’d gone to the Hall of Governance twice with Liangbi before, and he’d seen the way the kid looked at the prince. That look was not pure.
He just hid it better than the others.
Word had it that when Prince Huan persuaded the emperor to rescind the decree about displaying the heads at the temple, it was Xie Liangbi who had first pleaded with him.
As Xiao mulled all this over, the commander entered.
Everyone quickly stood.
The commander smiled and said, “Chancellor Xie and the others are heading into the palace—they’re already at Dongchen Gate. Who’s going for the escort today?”
Xiao Yichen leapt to his feet before anyone else could react.
The commander chuckled at his enthusiasm, then turned to the others.
Wei Sime kept his head down, too shy to speak.
Then the commander looked at Xie Liangbi. “You go with Xiao Yichen.”
Xiao glanced over.
Xie Liangbi hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Xiao Yichen and Xie Liangbi arrived together at Dongchen Gate, where the ministers’ carriages and escorts were already waiting.
The Hall of Governance wasn’t far from there, so everyone continued on foot.
Chancellor Xie, ever mindful of palace protocol, treated his son no differently than any other Golden Armored Guard while in public. Both father and son knew how to keep up appearances.
But today, when Chancellor Xie caught sight of his son among those assigned to receive the delegation, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. His expression turned visibly grave.
They made their way in silence toward the Hall of Governance. Xiao Yichen, usually carefree and roguish, felt a shiver crawl down his spine. Even he was a little dazed at the sight inside.
Through the window, he caught a glimpse of Prince Huan reading at his desk.
A sea of gold and jade surrounded him; snowy skin and a face like a blossom—he was the kind of beauty one could only admire from afar, not dare to touch.
Under the corridor stood a cluster of attendants: a dozen eunuchs in red robes, and a few others in blue.
Faintly, just beside Scholar Zhang, he could make out a sliver of black imperial dragon robes.
Such divine grandeur—it was like peering into a celestial palace. He felt ashamed of his own dust-covered existence.
As they stood respectfully outside the hall, Li Cong appeared from under the eaves.
Though he tried to keep a straight face, his eyes betrayed his smugness. His brows arched ever so slightly in triumph as he spotted them.
Once Chancellor Xie and the other ministers had gone inside, Li Cong lowered his voice and said, “I had a feeling it would be you two. Turns out I was right. I’m on duty with the prince now. If you need anything, just let me know. The prince and I talk all the time—easy as pie.”
Xie Liangbi ignored him completely.
Xiao Yichen sneered, “If the prince actually favors you, I’ll drop to my knees and call you big brother.”
That wiped the smile off Li Cong’s face.
The emperor’s court session ran a little long. The guards stood outside waiting.
Guarding the emperor during official court was considered grueling duty for the Golden Armored Guard. Everyone knew how strict he was—no food, no water, no slack in posture. By the time their legs went numb, the ministers finally emerged.
Soon after, the emperor himself appeared—Prince Huan right by his side.
Seeing the prince standing next to His Majesty, he seemed even more exalted—imbued with an imperial dignity that outshone the stars.
When Prince Huan had first returned to court, he was beautiful but not commanding. His allure had been soft and charming, almost delicate.
But after some time in the palace—and basking in the emperor’s unprecedented affection—he had transformed.
That affection had elevated him to a position second only to the emperor himself. And now, he participated in state affairs and wore garments once reserved only for the sovereign.
Just the sight of him made hearts pound. One could only bow before him, aching to serve at his feet.
To be commanded by him.
“Your Majesty, I have a request,” Chancellor Xie said suddenly.
The old fox rarely asked for personal favors. And now, when he did, it was for his son.
He was asking for his son to be removed from the Golden Armored Guard.
Fu Huang (the emperor) was surprised.
The palace guards were chosen personally by the emperor, and their term usually lasted three years before reassignment. For noble families, serving in the Golden Armored Guard was a high honor—few ever requested to resign.
That old fox wouldn’t do this without a reason.
The emperor looked toward the doorway, where Fu Ye (Prince Huan) stood under the corridor, smiling brightly as he nodded toward Xie Liangbi and the others.
They immediately lowered their hands and bowed respectfully.
Chancellor Xie’s stated reason was that his elderly mother was ill. She had always doted on her youngest grandson, and he hoped Liangbi could return home to care for her.
Madam Xie was over ninety, a former commandery princess, and a figure of great esteem—even the Empress Dowager showed her high regard. If she made a request, it would not be denied.
Fu Huang had long found Xie Liangbi irksome, so he readily agreed.
That very evening, something happened in Qingyuan Palace.
It wasn’t a major incident—just a matter concerning the reassignment of a palace guard.
But all personal guard transfers required the emperor’s approval—especially those serving in Prince Fu Ye’s palace.
Fu Huang (the emperor) kept a close eye on such matters. He personally vetted every guard assigned to Prince Ye’s residence: they had to come from clean family backgrounds, possess excellent martial skills, and—most importantly—look unremarkable.
The Black Armored Guards in Qingyuan Palace were all under the command of Li Dun. And now, Li Dun had submitted a report requesting the removal of one particular guard—his own cousin, Li Cong, who had only recently been transferred into Qingyuan.
Li Dun was known for his loyalty and understood the exact reason the emperor trusted him. Even when it came to family, he held nothing back. He reported that someone in the court had accused Li Cong of improper conduct—using his position as the prince’s guard to flaunt favor—and after personally verifying the facts, Li Dun concluded that Li Cong was unfit to serve Prince Ye any longer.
Fu Huang asked, “Who reported this?”
Li Dun lowered himself to the ground. “The Golden Armored Guard—Xie Liangbi.”
Chancellor Xie had just requested that his son resign from the Golden Guards, and now it turned out that Xie Liangbi had submitted a report on Li Cong before leaving. There was clearly more to this.
Fu Huang’s expression turned cold. He ordered Eunuch Qin to investigate the matter personally.
And what he found shocked everyone.
It turned out that Chancellor Xie’s urgent request for his son to leave the Golden Guards stemmed from concerns that Liangbi was getting too close to Prince Ye.
There was even supporting evidence: when Prince Ye had once intervened during the Shanyuan Temple case, the one who persuaded him to do so was none other than Xie Liangbi.
Fu Huang remembered that night vividly—Fu Ye’s hair loose around his shoulders, earnestly kneeling at his side, emotion spilling from his voice. That night had left a deep mark on him.
Now, just the memory made his temples throb.
Outside, an eunuch quietly stepped in carrying garments and softly announced, “Your Majesty, the prince has already gone to bed.”
He presented a tray bearing a robe—Fu Ye’s light apricot outer robe from earlier that day.
Fu Huang reached out, took it, and wrapped it around himself. Then he reclined on the chaise, expression grim.
The robe still held the faint, sweet scent of “Snow and Blue Letter” incense. Gentle and lingering, it helped him sleep.
The eunuch saw the emperor’s dark expression and quickly, silently retreated.
When Eunuch Qin returned, he found the emperor slowly pacing the room, still cloaked in that apricot robe.
“Your Majesty, it’s time to rest. Have you forgotten the bedtime His Highness requested for you?”
Fu Huang glanced at the water clock and said, “My head aches. Call him.”
At once, Eunuch Qin went to summon Fu Ye.
In no time at all, footsteps thundered in the corridor. Before the prince even appeared, his anxious voice rang out: “Royal Brother—your head hurts again?!”
Fu Huang lay sideways on the couch, and in that moment, he was certain—he had seen countless people in his life and could not be mistaken. Fu Ye truly, deeply cared for him.
The suffocating darkness within him evaporated, replaced by a warmth that was almost painful. He looked up just as Fu Ye rushed into the room.
The prince had just gone to bed and hadn’t even put on his outer robe. He arrived in only his inner garments, his ink-black hair flowing loose. Beautiful—so beautiful it made the heart tremble.
Fu Huang turned away, lowering his head slightly.
He was the Son of Heaven, ruler of all beneath the skies. If anyone understood that true affection could never be forced, it was him.
If Fu Ye didn’t feel true affection for him, there was nothing he could really do about it.
And this attempt to test him—it made his own heart race with fear.
Yet, he couldn’t deny how much he relished this outcome.
He, the emperor, with blood-stained hands and a reputation that struck fear across the land, now lay in the palm of this one young man. Tormented by him. Entangled in a love that should not be.
Was this… retribution?
Looking up again, he saw that Fu Ye had already slipped on a black cloak.
He said softly, “The headache is severe. I’ll have to trouble you again, Sixth Brother.”
