Fu Ye didn’t notice the cold, predatory gaze that trailed him from behind—he was completely captivated by the stone forest lining the road.
Even though he’d been in this world for quite a long time now, sights like this still managed to take his breath away.
On both sides of the road, every ten feet or so stood a stone statue—first the various bodhisattvas, then Buddhas themselves. The imperial carriage rolled slowly onward, weaving its way through what felt like a path into a world of Buddhist splendor, hidden among blossoms and hot springs.
As they neared Shennu Palace, monks began to appear, making their way through the forest in straw sandals and dark robes. When they spotted the Emperor’s carriage approaching, they stopped where they stood, facing the carriage and pressing their palms together in prayer.
The temple bells of Shennu Palace began to toll, their clear chimes scattering the spring birds from the woods.
Fu Ye leaned against the carriage window, gazing at the vermilion towers of Shennu Palace. His sleeve, dangling from the window, swayed like a piece of shimmering jade, its pale wrist catching the light. The monks couldn’t help but stare, momentarily spellbound—until they caught sight of Fu Huang behind him, dressed in his dragon robe, face cold and expressionless. The monks quickly lowered their heads, trembling.
“There sure are a lot of monks here,” Fu Ye remarked as he turned back inside.
Eunuch Qin answered, “Ever since Emperor Mingzong built the Buddhist grove on Lake Shennu, this place has been a sacred site. Many revered monks and great masters come here to cultivate.”
As he spoke, his heart quivered—so many gods and Buddhas around. Could they see through His Majesty’s true thoughts? If so…
He felt a flicker of dread. He really ought to burn some incense for the Emperor next chance he got.
Shennu Palace stood about a mile or two from Lake Shennu, built as a retreat for the emperors to bathe in the hot springs. It wasn’t large—the imperial family rarely stayed overnight, as the Lihua Palace wasn’t far and they typically returned there after their baths.
Now dozens of tents had been set up outside the palace, guards encircled it, and palace maids had already arrived ahead of time to clean and prepare everything inside and out.
As they entered, they saw the courtyard awash in blooming pear blossoms.
The sight made Fu Ye think of Lihua Palace. “The pear trees there must be at their peak bloom too by now, right?”
An attendant replied, “Yes, Your Highness. Right now, Lihua Palace looks like it’s buried in snow, and you can smell the blossoms from miles away.”
Fu Ye immediately turned to Fu Huang. “Then before we return, we should definitely go see it.”
“The Empress Dowager is there now, enjoying the blossoms,” the attendant added.
The moment Fu Ye heard that, he was ready to head to Lihua Palace at once.
Fu Huang said, “We’ll go tomorrow.”
Eunuch Qin chimed in, “It might rain again soon, Your Highness. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
The Emperor wanted to take him to the springs—Qin was more eager than the Emperor himself.
Qingxi stepped forward, cradling Fu Ye’s bundle, and asked a palace maid, “Where will His Highness be staying?”
Qin blushed. “His Highness will be keeping vigil over His Majesty these next two nights. Don’t you remember?”
Fu Ye blinked. “…Oh.”
So they were really going through with that.
Even Qingxi, who was always the picture of calm, looked a bit surprised. “His Highness will… share a chamber with His Majesty?”
Fu Ye quickly corrected him. “Keep vigil.”
Qin hastily agreed, “Yes, yes—keep vigil.”
Not that it makes any difference.
His face reddened further as he glanced at Fu Huang, but the Emperor had already disappeared into the inner hall.
With no other choice, Qingxi and the others carried Fu Ye’s things in after Qin and his men.
Shennu Palace’s main hall stood raised on sixteen boxwood pillars, all timber construction with no iron nails at all. The intricate joinery and layers of eaves seemed poised to take flight. From the windows, they could see Lake Shennu glimmering beyond.
To prevent anyone from hiding nearby, no grass or trees grew within thirty feet of the hall, leaving a clear view all around.
Inside, the sleeping couch had been screened off with three layers of folding screens. The innermost was special—a goddess holding a lotus lamp, its flower cut out in filigree. Between the second and third screens stood a man-sized bronze lantern. The light from within shone through the lotus cutouts, casting soft lotus-shaped patterns on the floor before the couch—clever and beautiful.
The couch itself was draped with gauze embroidered with floral patterns of royal grace. Around it hung silver censers filled with the Emperor’s favorite incense: Spring’s First Scent Amid Snow.
Every corner of the hall was crowded with fresh blooms, the newest of the season, bursting in vibrant clusters and filling the air with their fragrance.
Shennu Palace was nothing like the grand, imposing imperial palace, nor was it like the clean-lined, serene elegance of Lihua Palace. Its buildings were all painted bright vermilion, and inside, the furnishings were bold, lavish, and refined. The long corridor walls were covered in paintings of the goddess.
It really was the perfect place for an emperor to bring a favored consort for a private retreat.
It suited his taste perfectly.
Palace maids came in, carrying hot water and towels. These maids had all been sent from Lihua Palace; their dress was plain and simple, a far cry from the finery worn by palace maids of the inner court. Their faces were tight with tension. When Fu Huang stretched out his arms to be helped out of his robe, none of them dared step forward.
Fu Ye didn’t see Eunuch Qin anywhere, so he took the initiative himself, stepping up to help the Emperor remove his outer robe.
The Emperor wore a gold-threaded crown, and today his clothes made him look younger than usual. By all rights, he should have appeared brighter, more vigorous—but for some reason, Fu Ye felt that the Emperor had lost the bold, unrestrained air he’d had on the hunt just days before. Now, even down to his bones, he seemed weighed down by a sickly, brooding energy.
Suddenly, there was a loud clang behind him. Fu Ye turned to see Qingxi drop to his knees, forehead pressed to the floor.
He’d accidentally knocked over a screen while trying to catch the robe. The Emperor’s outer robe half-draped over Qingxi’s arm, half-covered the goddess painted on the fallen screen.
Fu Huang’s brow furrowed. Fu Ye spoke at once: “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Your Highness,” Qingxi answered, voice tight.
Shuangfu hurried over to right the screen, while the palace maids stood frozen in place, too scared to move.
Qingxi’s face was bright red as he backed away. Shuangfu grabbed his arm and whispered, “Thank the gods His Highness was here!”
Qingxi was still shaken.
Shuangfu couldn’t help but add, “First time I’ve ever seen you slip up. I thought you didn’t know how.”
It was then he noticed how much thinner Qingxi looked—dark circles under his eyes.
“What’s going on with you lately?” he asked quietly.
Qingxi pressed his lips together and shook his head. He glanced back toward the hall, where all he could see was the reflection in a bronze mirror. Inside, Fu Ye was surrounded by palace maids as he removed the Emperor’s gold-threaded crown. The Emperor’s hair fell loose around his shoulders, only making him look more regal, more at ease.
Fu Huang asked, “Qingxi—he’s from the Empress Dowager’s household, isn’t he?”
Fu Ye hesitated. “…He’s Eunuch Qin’s apprentice.”
Fu Huang made a soft, dismissive sound. “Even our palace people make mistakes like this?”
Fu Ye knew how strict the Emperor was with his attendants. He lowered his head and quietly undid the Emperor’s lined robe. His fingers brushed warm fabric and skin.
Fu Huang lifted his gaze to Fu Ye—and all he saw were those long, dark lashes.
Up close, Fu Ye’s skin was so clear and smooth it was almost startling, with the faint, fresh scent of youth lingering on him. When Fu Ye looked up and met his eyes, Fu Huang turned away.
In the tall bronze mirror beside them, Fu Huang saw his own reflection—dressed down to just his inner robe now—while Fu Ye, clad in an elegant sea-green garment, was carefully draping a fresh cloak over his shoulders.
It reminded him of years ago, when he’d paid his respects to Emperor Wuzong and Consort Zhaoyang. One morning, Consort Zhaoyang had risen a little late, and as he bowed in greeting, he’d glimpsed through a half-drawn screen the consort helping Wuzong dress, her long hair trailing on the floor. Wuzong had teased her, the nearby maids stifling their laughter behind their sleeves. The consort had glanced at him, then calmly closed the screen.
Since growing up, he had rarely wandered through the inner palace. That fleeting glimpse now stood out as one of his few impressions of the lives of the imperial concubines—a memory from his youth that had once seemed warm and touching.
Eunuch Qin entered, bowing as he spoke. “Your Majesty, Your Highness—the Hundred Flowers Pool has been prepared.”
Fu Ye looked up at this. “Is Royal Brother also going to the Hundred Flowers Pool?”
After a pause, Fu Huang asked, “What’s the matter?”
Eunuch Qin hurried to explain, “His Majesty was originally going to use the Hidden Dragon Pool, but that one is under repair at the moment… The Hundred Flowers Pool is very large, Your Highness. Even if twenty people were to bathe together, there would still be plenty of room.”
Heavens, Your Majesty, could you at least come up with a proper excuse? The eunuch silently lamented. So eager, and so blunt! Don’t scare His Highness now… patience, patience—ease into it!
Fu Ye felt a flicker of unease but smiled. “I’d rather not bathe together with Royal Brother. I’d like a pool to myself.”
Fu Huang asked quietly, “Do you find me distasteful?”
Fu Ye’s face flushed faintly. “No, it’s not that… I’m just not used to being bare in front of others.”
Fu Huang should have felt disappointed.
But in that moment, he felt a rush of excitement instead.
So no one’s seen him?
Fu Huang had been tended to by eunuchs since childhood. As he grew older, he lived mostly in army camps. He had always observed strict separation between men and women. As Emperor, bathing meant having attendants at hand to scrub and assist—he was used to that.
But Fu Ye seemed different. Even in the palace, he never let his personal attendants near him when bathing.
Fu Huang’s gaze swept over Fu Ye’s elegant robes—the high collar stark white and crisp, highlighting the delicate curve of his throat, the faint red where his small Adam’s apple pressed against the fabric.
There was a forbidden beauty in it—something that made Fu Huang’s heart pound harder than any of those men depicted unclothed in the springtime paintings.
How could I bear to ruin this modesty? he thought. His untamed soul is still hidden beneath these fine layers. He wanted to be the one to unveil it, yet at the same time wanted to leave that innocence untouched, kept safe from all prying eyes.
His head swam faintly, his expression darkening as his desire tangled with restraint. His voice was low. “I won’t look at you, if that’s what you wish.”
Fu Ye reasoned with himself: We’re brothers. What harm is there in sharing a bath? If I insist on bathing separately, it’ll seem like I have something to hide, like I’m ashamed or guilty. And I’m not—there’s no secret longing here, no forbidden desire.
With so many palace maids present, he said no more. The sky outside was already deepening into dusk.
He drew his cloak tighter and, together with Fu Huang, stepped out of the hall.
Behind them, attendants carried their robes, following quietly. No one spoke; Fu Huang was silent as a shadow. Their procession moved through the mist like a great, colorful dragon gliding softly through the twilight.
The Hundred Flowers Pool was veiled in steam, set high on a terrace. All around it bloomed great banks of peonies, with pink cherry and white pear blossoms cascading above them. The night was growing dark, but countless peony-shaped lanterns glowed softly around the pool.
It was breathtaking.
As they reached the foot of the terrace, Fu Huang suddenly turned and ordered, “You all wait down here.”
Fu Ye froze for a moment in surprise.
Fu Huang added, “Didn’t you say you don’t like having attendants hovering about?”
And with that, he turned and strode up the steps on his own.
The eunuchs and attendants seemed momentarily at a loss.
“I’ll take the clothes,” Fu Ye said, stepping forward to gather the robes from their arms. He followed after his brother.
At the top stood a peony pavilion, built for the concubines to change their garments. Staircases led down from either side, and inside, screens enclosed a private changing space. Fu Huang had already shrugged off his cloak, stripping off the rest of his garments as well.
The Emperor stood tall—at least six-foot-three, towering over most men of this era. Fu Ye had never seen anyone taller. His figure was lean, but the powerful lines of muscle and bone spoke of strength that could explode at any moment. The last time Fu Ye had helped him dress, he’d tried to keep his head down, but even so, he couldn’t help being struck by the sight of those scars and that imposing frame.
Now, even with the screen between them, Fu Ye caught a glimpse of part of his back. Though slender, the Emperor radiated a kind of ruthless intensity.
Suddenly, Fu Huang turned his head, as if sensing Fu Ye’s gaze.
Fu Ye hastily dropped his eyes, pretending to busy himself with loosening his own robes.
Fu Huang—ever the Emperor—showed no sign of modesty. Maybe he was just used to it. Or maybe he was simply that straightforward.
Without another word, Fu Huang descended into the pool.
Fu Ye hesitated for a moment, then chose to keep on a thin under-robe.
The difference between a gay man and a straight man, he thought, wryly.
And to his surprise, Fu Huang actually turned his back, refraining from looking at him.
Fu Ye couldn’t help but find it a little funny.
Just as his lips curled into a smile, Fu Huang’s voice came through the steam: “With your discerning eye… what do you think of your elder brother?”
“Huh?”
Fu Huang turned, his gaze settling on Fu Ye’s face, though his eyes had flicked briefly to the clinging, translucent under-robe. His hair hung loose, and his elbows rested along the pool’s edge, collarbones sharply defined, the very image of an emperor at ease.
Fu Ye replied lightly, “Royal Brother is a dragon among men. How could I dare compare myself?”
Fu Huang fell silent again, watching him through the mist with that same brooding gaze.
He seemed still not fully recovered from the previous day’s episode, or perhaps his doubts hadn’t been laid to rest. Otherwise, why would he study Fu Ye with such a dark, intent look?
Though the under-robe shielded him, Fu Ye still felt the weight of that gaze, so he swam over and leaned against the edge beside his brother. His hair fanned out on the water’s surface like black blossoms, some strands floating against Fu Huang’s chest.
From here, beyond the sea of peonies, the Goddess Lake came into view. The sky was darkening, and across the lake, countless temple lamps glimmered like a silver river in the heavens. The mist curled thick around them.
Fu Ye sighed softly. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Fu Huang agreed.
Fu Huang had long felt that these past few years he had been living neither as a man nor as a ghost—drifting through life without meaning or desire. Naturally, he hadn’t had any bodily urges either. Even in his youth, when he first came to understand such things, he’d considered himself no different from any ordinary man, without any deviant cravings.
But now, gazing at the skin beneath those damp, clinging clothes, he had an almost feral urge to sink his teeth into that slender body.
He imagined Fu Ye might struggle.
But so thin, so delicate—no matter how he struggled, it wouldn’t matter in the end.
That dark, heavy desire churned inside him. Beneath the water, the beast had stirred to life—something that could no longer be hidden.
And once that thought took hold, it was like opening a floodgate—wild, unstoppable.
He remembered the day Fu Ye had returned, veiled beneath that gauzy hood, fragile and slim, delicate as porcelain. Even without seeing his face, one could tell he was a rare beauty. The memory felt so distant now that in his mind, Fu Ye seemed wrapped in a soft, rosy glow—the kind that had once lit up the cold, dark halls of Qingyuan Palace.
“Have you been here before, Royal Brother?” Fu Ye’s voice broke the silence.
Fu Huang replied, “I came two or three times as a child.”
“And me? Did I come too?”
“You were still very little then,” Fu Huang said, his gaze drifting below the water where he could see the outline of that narrow waist and hips beneath the soaked fabric.
He’s beautiful.
Every inch of him is beautiful—from his feet all the way to the tips of his hair.
And all the more so because it made Fu Huang feel all the uglier in comparison.
Leaning against the edge of the pool in the dark, Fu Huang tilted his head back, closing his eyes. His ribs expanded slightly with each deep breath.
“Someone,” he called softly.
Fu Ye turned to look at him.
Eunuch Qin immediately appeared at the steps, peering up. “Your Majesty?”
The sky had darkened. Even with all the lanterns strung around the pool, the rising steam blurred the view. From a distance, all that could be seen were two faint figures in the mist.
“It’s too bright,” the Emperor said. “Snuff out two of the lanterns.”
Fu Ye watched as Eunuch Qin came and extinguished two of the lights.
Immediately, the light around them dimmed, softening the outlines of Fu Huang’s face.
“Is it too dark?” Fu Huang asked.
Fu Ye replied, “Not at all.”
Darker was better. Less awkward that way.
From the moment he entered the water, he hadn’t dared look directly at the Emperor.
Most men, bathing together, couldn’t help sneaking a glance at each other—it wasn’t about lust, just plain curiosity between men.
Especially since Fu Huang was the Emperor.
Fu Ye had heard the rumors, the ones cloaked in innuendo, but had never seen for himself.
And that only made him more curious.
If it had been before, he probably would’ve looked without a second thought.
But after these past few days, guilt gnawed at him. So now, he didn’t even dare a glance.
Night had fully fallen. Down below, Qingxi and the others stood in silence, listening to the rush of water from above—the steady stream of hot spring water drawn from the mountain brook, endlessly pouring into the bathing pool. From there, the overflow spilled down from the Hundred Flowers Pool, sending mist swirling through the night.
Qingxi’s expression could no longer be described as simply dazed.
He had long since realized that the Emperor’s words and actions toward the Prince no longer resembled those of a brother.
And now… now it was impossible not to wonder, not to imagine what exactly was happening between the Emperor and the Prince up there in the dark.
Fu Ye was talking.
He was chatting with Fu Huang about the sights and legends he’d heard regarding the lake of the Divine Lady.
“Have you ever been to the island, Royal Brother?”
Through the hazy night and the steam rising from the warm water, Fu Huang gazed at him and answered, “No.”
Fu Ye’s hair was long, with a few strands fanning out across the surface of the water.
“Fu Ye.” The Emperor suddenly called his name.
Fu Ye turned his head.
“Say my name,” Fu Huang said.
“Huh?” Fu Ye blinked, not understanding why Fu Huang would ask such a thing. By now the night had deepened, the steam so thick that faces were little more than shadows.
And for some reason, an inexplicable shyness welled up inside him. Flustered, he stammered, “Your Majesty…”
Fu Huang said nothing at first. He didn’t react at all. After a long pause, he finally muttered, “Not obedient at all.”
He lifted his arms again from the water, resting them along the edge of the pool. His limbs were long—he almost seemed to stretch right across to Fu Ye. His hands were large, flushed red from the heat, veins and tendons standing out, his fingers slightly curled as if resisting some invisible strain.
He hadn’t found release.
He always could endure.
But now he was too tense, too tightly coiled.
Frustration brewed inside him, dark and heavy, as he sat there in the oppressive night, lost in thought.
“Why do you want me to say your name?” Fu Ye asked quietly.
Fu Huang said, “Because I wanted to hear it. That’s all.”
Fu Ye fell silent.
Then, in the darkness, his voice came softly.
“Royal Brother.”
“Brother.”
“Fu Huang.”
It was the first time Fu Huang had ever heard him say his name aloud.
And at that, his mind seemed to drift, lost in a haze of longing and confusion.
“I’ve overstepped my bounds,” Fu Ye said at once, lowering his gaze.
Fu Huang was silent for a moment before he said, “I’ll allow it.”
Then added, “When no one else is around, you can always call me that.”
Author’s note:
“You say it so sweetly. Your brother likes it very much.”
