At that moment, Fu Ye was strolling near the hunting grounds with Shuangfu and Qingxi.
He rarely wore green, but today he was dressed in a shade deeper than their blue robes. The garment was plain, with barely visible silver-thread ripples along the edges. The fabric was thin, and when the breeze blew, it fluttered softly, blending him into the sea of grass and trees around them.
Wherever he went, he drew the eyes of the crowd. Now and then, he’d exchange a few words with someone, and eight or nine times out of ten, they’d turn shy, unable to meet his gaze.
Perhaps he was simply too beautiful—so much so that even these straight-laced men didn’t dare look him in the eye.
Fu Ye felt much better now, his mood lightened.
He wasn’t the type who was oblivious to his own beauty or took it for granted. No, he liked turning heads. He liked the fanfare.
If it weren’t for Fu Huang keeping him on a short leash, he’d have been even more flamboyant.
Shuangfu said, “Your Highness loves red, but I think this color makes your skin look even fairer!”
Fu Ye finally shook himself free of the wandering thoughts that had plagued him earlier.
All that talk of love and longing—better to keep my mind clear and just enjoy being a handsome prince.
He smiled at Shuangfu and Qingxi. Shuangfu had just tucked a tiny pink flower behind his ear, looking all the more festive—like a little god of fortune.
Shuangfu had put on a fair bit of weight lately, following him around.
But Qingxi—he seemed to grow thinner by the day.
No one from Qingyuan Palace ever seems to put on a single pound, Fu Ye thought.
Right now, Qingxi looked particularly troubled.
Fu Ye asked, “Qingxi, what’s the matter?”
Qingxi raised his head and asked softly, “The things Your Highness said to the chief eunuch earlier—were they true?”
Fu Ye immediately grew cautious.
Truth be told, though Qingxi had served him for years, Fu Ye still felt the man’s loyalty lay with Fu Huang.
A gust of wind whipped Qingxi’s robe, making his slender frame seem all the more fragile. Even his face seemed to carry that pale, sickly look so common among those from Qingyuan Palace.
“Of course they were true,” Fu Ye said.
Though really, what did it matter now? Whether for a year, or several, all that talk of love and passion would probably have nothing to do with him.
And honestly, he thought, this is fine. I’m content.
Qingxi smiled faintly. “I see a gentleman right here who fits Your Highness’s requirements perfectly.”
Before Fu Ye could reply, Shuangfu blurted out, unable to hold it in, “I know, I know! You mean Chancellor Xie’s son, don’t you?!”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Fu Ye said quickly, lifting a hand to stop him. He shot a wary glance over his shoulder—only to spot, at that exact moment, a red-robed eunuch from the emperor’s side hurrying toward him.
Speak of the devil, he thought grimly. Could the timing be any worse?
At once, he straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back, and signaled for Shuangfu and Qingxi to hold their tongues.
Shuangfu promptly clapped a hand over his mouth.
From a distance, the eunuch called out, “Your Highness! His Majesty’s head ailment has flared up!”
Fu Ye, Qingxi, and Shuangfu all turned pale.
What on earth had happened?!
How could this be? Fu Ye thought in shock. I’ve only been gone a few minutes—how did His Majesty suddenly take ill? His head ailment hasn’t acted up in so long!
Heart pounding, he rushed into the imperial tent. Inside, he saw Eunuch Qin wiping sweat from Fu Huang’s brow with a cloth.
“Brother!” Fu Ye called anxiously.
But before he could get close, Fu Huang seized his arm in a vice-like grip.
“His Majesty’s head ailment has flared up,” Eunuch Qin said quietly.
Fu Huang’s fingers tightened around him, his gaze locked on Fu Ye. His forehead and neck were laced with bulging veins—it was like reliving that first time Fu Ye had treated him, all over again.
Panic rising in his chest, Fu Ye forced himself to stay calm. “Where’s the imperial physician?”
Just then, the doctor burst into the tent, clutching his medicine case, only to trip on the carpet and fall flat on the ground.
“Don’t panic!” Fu Ye barked, his voice steady despite his fear. “The physician and chief eunuch stay. Everyone else—out!”
Qingxi and Shuangfu had just rushed in but froze at his command. Qingxi recovered first, immediately stepping forward to usher everyone else out. He himself hesitated just at the threshold, his blue robe shivering in the wind outside. Suddenly, he felt a hand clamp onto his wrist—he turned and saw it was Shuangfu.
Shuangfu’s face was pale with fright. He pulled Qingxi out of the tent, and together they stood at the entrance, where the gathered soldiers had already begun closing in, drawn by the commotion. Men who’d been laughing and talking with them earlier now pressed forward like a pack of wolves. Shuangfu didn’t know why that image struck him so suddenly—only that he was afraid. He clung to Qingxi’s hand.
Word spread quickly—The emperor is ill! Chaos rippled through the camp. Li Dun and Meng Xiao drew their swords and took position outside the imperial tent. The air around the hunting grounds seemed to freeze; the lively clamor was replaced by dead silence.
All faces showed unease. Xie Liangbi dropped to his knees without a word.
Chancellor Xie’s legs trembled. The Minister of Rites approached, voice low and worried. “How could His Majesty fall ill so suddenly? Is it serious? Should we send word to the Empress Dowager?”
Didn’t I say His Majesty shouldn’t come hunting with this ailment? he thought bitterly. Wasn’t that how Crown Prince Mingyi died—falling from his horse during a hunt because of a seizure?
The memory sent a chill down his spine. He recalled how, in the past, the emperor’s seizures on campaign would leave him raving, swinging his blade at anything in reach. The thought wrapped him in cold dread, as if the sunlight itself had been snuffed out. Glancing up, he saw a great black cloud rising over the mountain, swallowing the sun and casting the world into shadow.
Inside the tent, Fu Ye knelt to wash his hands before beginning to apply the needles. But Fu Huang still gripped his arm, refusing to let go.
Fu Ye spoke gently, his voice urgent but kind. “Brother, I’ve done this for you many times before. You’ll feel better soon.”
The tenderness in his voice—so genuine, so filled with worry—should have soothed Fu Huang. But this wasn’t the kind of sincerity Fu Huang longed for. No, this was a blade that cut deep, filling him with both love and bitter resentment. He felt trapped, knowing that even if he survived this attack, another would come, sooner or later—an end he could not escape. And when that day came, even if they both died together, Fu Huang knew his soul would fall into hell, and Fu Ye would not follow. In this life, all he could possess was this fragile bond of brotherhood.
The pain was unbearable, robbing him of restraint. He spoke without thinking, voice strained: “If you truly want to save me, then remember—you must stay by my side, be my brother for life. You must devote yourself to me, and no one else.”
“Don’t think this is a choice I’m giving you. It’s an imperial command. You have no option but to obey.”
Fu Ye froze, speechless.
“You should’ve known long ago that being by my side would mean this,” Fu Huang said, his voice low and tight, teeth clenched. “I’ve never been any kind of good brother.”
His words came out sharp, bitter, slipping between I and Your Emperor as if he couldn’t decide whether to speak as a man or as a sovereign. They were threats—cruel, unwarranted—and for a moment Fu Ye stood frozen, stunned, his heart trembling. But he quickly gathered himself, bowed his head, and said at once, “Your servant and brother harbors no other intentions!”
Eunuch Qin echoed anxiously, “His Highness has heard Your Majesty clearly.”
Fu Huang’s expression darkened, his eyes cold and predatory. “Swear it. Swear it here and now!”
Fu Ye replied, “I swear here before Heaven and Earth, if I—”
But Fu Huang suddenly released his grip, cutting him off. “Oaths are the easiest lies of all.”
With that, he sank back onto the couch, looking utterly spent, as if all hope had drained out of him.
Fu Ye had no time to dwell on it. He immediately began applying the needles.
Perhaps it was fury, an attack of rage that had triggered this seizure—but Eunuch Qin knew all too well: what had truly brought this on wasn’t the emperor’s old ailment of the head, but a sickness of the heart. His worst fears were coming true—what His Majesty dreaded most was on the verge of becoming reality!
And if that day ever came, when these hidden feelings burst into the light—who could possibly save the emperor then?
For Fu Huang, Fu Ye was no longer someone he could bear to part from. They were bound—irrevocably.
The thought filled Eunuch Qin with terror. His heart raced; tears welled up in his eyes, hot and unstoppable.
Fu Ye, focused on his work, looked up briefly and said softly, trying to reassure him, “It’s nothing serious. Don’t worry, Chief Eunuch.”
Eunuch Qin said quietly, “Your Highness, we’re entrusting everything to you now.”
He knew full well that His Majesty’s feelings were a transgression against the natural order of kinship and ethics. His Highness was gentle, proper—this affection would surely bring him nothing but shame and humiliation. But as a servant of the Son of Heaven, Qin knew he would have to aid the Emperor in seizing what he wanted, no matter what. The thought that such a good and kind prince should suffer betrayal like this filled him with guilt so deep it choked him, and before he could stop himself, he began to sob aloud.
Fu Huang, clearer now in his mind, frowned and said, “I’m not dead yet.”
Qin hastily wiped his tears away, catching sight of Fu Ye’s dazed expression, and turned to face the other way. “Your servant… Your servant just lost his head out of worry.”
Fu Ye felt both awkward and moved. He said, “Who doesn’t know how deeply Chief Eunuch cares for my brother?”
After finishing the acupuncture, Fu Ye took Fu Huang’s pulse and finally breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly stepped outside the tent to inform Li Dun and the others standing guard. Prime Minister Xie was still at the entrance, and the moment he heard that the Emperor was out of danger, his knees gave way and he collapsed onto the ground.
If anything had happened to His Majesty… he knew their entire family would’ve been done for.
Without caring for appearances anymore, he immediately ordered his son Xie Liangbi to be dragged off to the carriage.
Fu Ye stayed at Fu Huang’s side, not leaving for even a moment. The great tent rustled softly; the air had turned cold—it must have started raining. He personally served the Emperor his medicine and waited until Fu Huang had calmed somewhat. Only then, seeing that generals like Meng Xiao were waiting outside with urgent matters, did he step out of the tent.
Sure enough, it was a fine, misty rain. Many of the bonfires around the hunting grounds had been extinguished, and the rows of tents glimmered faintly in the gloom. Guards with lanterns made their rounds; the light of the lamps blurred like fireflies in the rain, mingling with the patter of raindrops on banners. The whole hunting camp looked desolate now.
Nights in ancient times could be terrifyingly dark.
Fu Ye summoned one of the eunuchs at the door. Shuang Fu and Qing Xi brought him an oil-paper umbrella, and he took it and walked a few steps out.
The eunuch quickly followed, holding up another umbrella.
Once outside, Fu Ye immediately asked, “Wasn’t my brother meeting with Prime Minister Xie and his son? How did he suddenly fall ill?”
The young eunuch answered cautiously, “Your servant doesn’t know all the details…”
Before he could finish, Eunuch Qin had emerged from the tent.
Qin dismissed the young eunuch, not wanting Fu Ye to grow suspicious, and explained carefully, “It was that Xie Liangbi boy who provoked His Majesty into this state.”
Fu Ye was bewildered. Could it really be that simple? The Emperor became this distressed just because Xie Liangbi wanted to serve as his personal guard?
Seeing Fu Ye’s confusion, Qin panicked, afraid the prince might start suspecting the truth. He quickly added, “Your Majesty has been alone in his heart ever since his ascension. Though he has loyal ministers and this humble servant at his side, he’s felt nothing but isolation. He wasn’t born cold or heartless, Your Highness—he’s been betrayed too many times, especially by those closest to him in the palace. The wounds ran deep, and now, having Your Highness’s care, rediscovering the love between brothers… it’s all been too overwhelming for him. That’s why his emotions got the better of him.”
Fu Ye nodded, moved. “My brother’s affection for me is genuine, no doubt about it.”
To have someone care for him so deeply—no matter what kind of feelings they were—he couldn’t help but feel touched. He didn’t know how he could ever repay such sincerity.
And the truth was, he wasn’t even Fu Huang’s real brother. This entire bond between them… was built on a lie from the start.
The thought made him feel even more unworthy of such true-hearted devotion.
Meanwhile, Eunuch Qin’s heart weighed heavier than Fu Ye’s.
Heaven help us. What’s to be done now?
For a wild, fleeting moment, he wondered—could it be that His Highness might come to love His Majesty too?
After all, His Majesty… wasn’t so bad. Even if he didn’t have the kind of breathtaking looks…
Though the Emperor’s temper was bad, his reputation poor… his health plagued by chronic illness… his temperament strange and difficult…
Forget it. Qin couldn’t fool himself any longer.
Any normal man wouldn’t harbor such feelings for his own brother.
This was a monstrous, unnatural desire.
Perhaps His Majesty wasn’t “normal”—but His Highness, no matter how you looked at him, was as proper and upright as a man could be.
For a long moment, both men fell silent. At last, unable to bear it, Eunuch Qin said gently, “Your Highness has had a long, tiring day. You should go back and get some rest. His Majesty still has me here to attend him.”
Fu Ye said nothing at first. After a pause, he looked up to see Meng Xiao and the others emerging from the tent.
They saluted him. At some point they had all changed into full armor, and the raindrops clattered against their breastplates, the golden lamps strung high on poles casting flickering light through the rain-soaked night. The sight was somber and awe-inspiring.
Especially Meng Xiao—gone was the boisterous, bold hunter from earlier; now his face was grave beneath his wiry beard.
Only then did Fu Ye realize that while he had been inside, focused solely on saving the Emperor, the ministers and generals outside had endured a storm of their own.
If anything had happened to the Emperor, the entire realm would have fallen into chaos.
And in that moment, Fu Ye felt the truth hit him—Fu Huang was more important than the empire itself.
“Gentlemen, please rest easy. His Majesty’s illness isn’t as severe as in the past. After a good night’s sleep, he’ll be well.”
Once more, the generals saluted him. “We are grateful to Your Highness.”
Fu Ye watched them withdraw, then returned to the Emperor’s bedside.
Fu Huang lay beneath the imperial quilt embroidered with qilin patterns, his brow furrowed, the air around him thick with medicinal incense. Fu Ye had lit it himself to soothe the Emperor’s spirit—the bitter fragrance filling the tent, seeping into the Emperor’s very bones.
Fu Huang barely reacted when Fu Ye came back in.
Fu Ye sat down beside him and tucked in the edges of the quilt. “I’ve been away from home for so many years. Since returning, I’ve felt deeply the affection and regard my brother shows me. I may seem like I’m always joking around, never serious—but in truth, I’m very grateful to you. I just… I don’t know how to say it. Some things come easily, but when they come from the heart, it’s harder to speak.”
Fu Huang lifted his gaze, and for a long moment, simply stared. The prince’s dark eyes shone so clear and true, purer than the finest gemstone.
Fu Ye went on, sincere and steady: “I promise, unless you give permission—or drive me from the palace—I will stay by your side always. I won’t marry, I won’t take any pretty boy into my household… I won’t swear an oath—because you’re right, oaths can deceive. All I have is my true heart, and that heart wishes only to stand with you, side by side as brothers, supporting each other.”
Fu Huang was silent for a long time. His illness this time wasn’t as severe as when they’d first reunited, but somehow, he seemed more fragile, more broken than ever.
And so Fu Ye reached out and took the Emperor’s hand in his own.
His pale, slender fingers brushed lightly over Fu Huang’s prominent knuckles and the cords of veins beneath the skin. The Emperor’s hand stirred slightly, then closed over his in return.
Fu Ye thought, He should feel reassured now. Every word I said came from my heart.
Fu Huang finally spoke, his voice low: “I understand.”
The tent fell quiet. Qin stepped out from behind the screen and said softly, “Your Highness, you are not in the best health yourself. Let me stay here—please, go and rest.”
Fu Ye said, “I’ll stay the night and keep watch.”
Qin glanced cautiously at the Emperor.
Fu Huang looked at his brother for a moment, then said, “Tomorrow.”
Fu Ye hesitated. Tomorrow? Does he mean I should keep vigil again tomorrow?
He thought surely by tomorrow the Emperor would be fine.
Still, he rose and said simply, “Very well.”
After Fu Ye left, Eunuch Qin extinguished several of the lamps, then sat down cross-legged beside Fu Huang’s bed.
He wanted desperately to discuss what they should do next, but even thinking of it felt like something a scheming villain in an opera would do.
Though he had resolved to help the Emperor, now that it came to actually doing something, he found himself paralyzed.
Help the Emperor scheme against his own brother?
Heavens above…
When I die, where will my soul even go?
After a long moment, he finally said, “In truth, Your Majesty, I don’t think the Prince is entirely unaware of your feelings. Even though he sees it only as brotherly affection, he knows well enough that you don’t want him to take any concubines. Even if that boy from the Xie family begged him in person, His Highness would never agree.”
The Emperor lay there, his spirit seeming as if it had fled his body, eyes still dazed from the fury of his headache. After a while, he said quietly, “I know he wouldn’t agree.”
But he might… want to.
A boy so perfectly suited to his taste, offering himself so willingly—if not for the Emperor’s shadow looming over him, would Fu Ye truly refuse?
Even the slightest flicker of desire in Fu Ye’s heart was intolerable.
His body, his heart—no one else could have even the smallest piece.
Fu Huang stared off into space. After a while, he murmured, “He said he wouldn’t marry or take a lover.”
Eunuch Qin stood up in surprise. “Ah?”
Fu Huang looked at him. “He said he’d stay in the palace with me forever.”
Qin hesitated. “Oh… His Highness is truly thoughtful and considerate.”
Maybe… maybe we should just let His Highness be. Let him go in peace…
But Fu Huang’s eyes glinted with a cold, fevered light, and he said slowly, “Tell me this. Since he’s sworn off marriage and love, since he’ll spend his life alone, never knowing the pleasure he desires most—wouldn’t it be better for him to be with me? Wouldn’t that be good for him?”
What kind of logic is that, Your Majesty?
Qin swallowed hard. “I… suppose so…”
Fu Huang seemed to slip into a dreamlike state. Compared to this, he’d been clearer of mind during his worst bouts of illness.
“I’ll make him very happy,” the Emperor said.
Qin froze. What?!
“If only he were a little more lustful,” Fu Huang muttered, “then I could…”
“Your Majesty!” Qin nearly cried out. You may dare say such things, but I daren’t even listen!
The next morning, before dawn had broken, Fu Huang rose. Qin, sleepless and exhausted, forced himself to help the Emperor dress.
But the Emperor frowned at the robes he was offered—none of them looked good enough.
Fortunately, they’d brought plenty of fine garments from the palace this time, all newly made for the spring.
The Emperor rarely cared for finery himself; most of these splendid robes had been prepared as gifts for Prince Fu Ye. Bright colors, exquisite craftsmanship—each piece more dazzling than the last.
Fu Huang sifted through them and chose the most magnificent of all.
It was black as usual, but the patterns were far more elaborate than what he typically wore. The collar was fastened with silver clasps shaped like coiled dragons, with cloud-carved mythical beasts dangling below their claws. For once, the Emperor even wore a crown—a gold-winged diadem inlaid with jet-black jade.
They had planned to set out for the hot springs the previous night, but after the delay, they didn’t depart until midday.
Fu Ye noticed that Eunuch Qin was showing him extraordinary tenderness today—even his voice was quieter and softer than usual.
“Your Highness, did you sleep well last night?”
“I see there’s a bit of darkness under your eyes. Your Highness must take care of your health.”
“Your Highness, allow this servant to help you up.”
“Your Highness, is the incense we lit in the carriage to your liking today?”
As for the Emperor—Fu Ye felt as if even his aura had changed.
Dressed in such splendid attire, Fu Huang ought to have looked magnificent. Yet the air around him still seemed steeped in the dark malice left by his recent illness. There was an oppressive, noble yet sickly presence about him…
The very image of a villainous, brooding emperor from an old costume drama—the tormented second male lead who would never win the heroine’s heart.
His eyes were shot through with blood-red veins, making him look all the more cold and menacing.
But today, even when he spoke, his voice was soft, gentle.
The sudden gentleness of both master and servant made Fu Ye feel a little uneasy. Sitting in the carriage with them, there were moments when he felt as if he’d fallen into some strange, surreal dream.
Shuangfu and Qingxi, along with the other eunuchs, walked beside the carriage. Their procession to the Shennu Palace hot springs was an impressive sight—over a thousand people, front and rear.
And yet, all that could be heard was the sound of wheels and footsteps—no other sound at all.
The sky was overcast. It had rained briefly that morning, and now a light mist clung to the mountains and the blossoming trees—beautiful beyond words.
Knowing Fu Ye wished to enjoy the spring scenery, Fu Huang had ordered all the curtains rolled up. He even removed his own cloak and draped it over Fu Ye’s shoulders.
Fu Ye wasn’t cold, but seeing the Emperor still recovering, his heart was full of tenderness. Without protest, he wrapped himself snugly in the cloak.
He wrapped it quite tightly.
The cloak was extraordinarily fine, its pattern like molten gold at sunset. The black and gold together exuded supreme majesty. Draped over Fu Ye’s deep green robes, soft folds layered together, creating a complex beauty, like jade jewelry piled upon jade, so opulent it was almost overwhelming.
Inwardly, Fu Huang thought darkly: No matter what, I’ll keep him by my side.
If he won’t be my brother, then let him be my consort.
The imperial carriage rolled on slowly—the hot springs were not far.
Fu Ye sat by the window, as if trying to ease the heavy mood, and pointed out cheerfully, “Look, Your Majesty—there’s a Bodhisattva statue.”
His voice was lower than usual, perhaps because he was mindful that the Emperor was ill, and it came out extra gentle, almost tender, like a mother’s kindness wrapped in warmth and light.
Along the roadside stood a row of massive Bodhisattva statues, each several stories high. The carriage rolled past their serene, compassionate faces.
Fu Ye had no idea that what sat beside him was a demon, plotting how best to seize him entirely.
This man he called brother—this man who wasn’t handsome enough, whose family wasn’t pure enough, who wasn’t gentle or considerate enough—wanted to kiss his lips, take his body, claim his heart, and possess every part of him.
They were worlds apart. Fu Huang was a man who had killed his father, slain his brothers, a man with blood on his hands—just as his enemies cursed him: a soul doomed never to find peace, never to reincarnate, condemned to the deepest hells for all eternity.
If they couldn’t die together, if they couldn’t meet again in the next life, then this life—this brief, fleeting spring—would be all his, his last fragile taste of happiness.
That’s what he’d thought through the long night.
He loved him too much, for now at least, to force him. He would rather bide his time, use everything at his disposal to slowly lure him in.
