At that moment, the emperor didn’t bother about what the Empress Dowager might think. He didn’t even look at her.
Glancing at the hall full of palace maids and eunuchs, Qin Neijian thought to himself—thank goodness they were brothers. That was the only thing saving face for a scene this tender and intimate.
But maybe because she’d been left standing there, the Empress Dowager’s expression didn’t look so good. Her grip tightened on Sun Gongzheng’s hand.
The atmosphere was thick, strange, and more than a little awkward. Sun Gongzheng quietly suggested, “Should we bring the prince some sobering soup?”
Qin Neijian immediately chimed in, “Hurry, go get a bowl of sobering soup for the prince.”
By now, Fu Ye’s crying had faded. He seemed a little more aware of himself. His long lashes were wet with tears, his nose red, and he just stared blankly at Fu Huang.
Too real… he thought. This dream feels too real.
“Feeling clearer now?” Fu Huang asked.
Fu Ye still looked dazed, but he wasn’t crying anymore. It was as if a little reason had returned. Embarrassed, he buried his face in his sleeve.
Only then did Shuangfu and the others dare to come forward and help.
The emperor rose and asked, “Mother, did you need something?”
The Empress Dowager said coldly, “I never thought the emperor could be so considerate of Prince Huan. Truly, you’ve given me a whole new impression of you.”
Fu Huang didn’t respond.
His indifference had a faint note of disdain, as if nothing in the world could trouble him or bind him.
Perhaps the Empress Dowager didn’t want to look at that face anymore. She gripped Sun Gongzheng’s arm and left the hall without another word.
Qin Neijian hurried after her to see her off.
When he returned, Fu Ye seemed to have fallen asleep again. His robes were rumpled, hair disheveled, tear stains on his face—he looked…
Devastatingly beautiful.
Qin Neijian followed Fu Huang out of the hall. After a few steps, he mumbled, “That gave this old servant quite a scare.”
Fu Huang said, “I didn’t do anything to him.”
Qin Neijian thought—You didn’t do anything at all?
Fu Huang added, “Though…”
Though what?
Qin Neijian glanced up at him.
The emperor actually looked a little angry. “He’s just… obscene. Utterly indecent.”
Huh?
Qin Neijian didn’t dare ask how exactly the prince had been indecent.
“It’s only because he was drunk,” Fu Huang muttered.
Qin Neijian hesitated a long while, then finally dared to advise, “Your Majesty, that’s the perfect opportunity.”
Fu Huang turned to look at him.
“Of course,” Qin Neijian added quickly, “of course, since the prince was drunk, you couldn’t really take advantage. But Your Majesty could’ve at least loosened his robes and stayed at his side. When he sobered up, you could’ve turned the tables—say the prince got drunk and took liberties with you. Prince Huan’s so kind-hearted—would he really refuse to take responsibility?”
Ah, Qin Neijian thought, His Majesty is just too inexperienced in these matters. So honest!
Fu Huang said nothing.
Hands clasped behind his back, he took a few more steps, then said quietly, “There might be something wrong with me.”
Qin Neijian froze. “Ah?”
Oh no, could it be…
Fu Huang shot him a cold look. “Not that kind of problem.”
Whew. Qin Neijian felt like his heart had nearly stopped.
“Then what is it?” he asked.
The emperor’s mood darkened; his face was hard to read as he walked through the vermilion corridor, the golden dragon on his robes winding like it was alive.
“I wanted to bite him,” Fu Huang said.
Qin Neijian stumbled over his own feet.
He thought about it, and honestly—it felt inevitable. Just a matter of time.
He’d start with his chest.
The thought alone felt like he’d had a drink. The noise around him faded, and all he could hear was the rush in his ears.
He even thought, When Fu Ye wakes up, I should ask him—was he truly drunk the whole time?
Biting my finger like that… does that mean he doesn’t mind me?
The emperor seemed completely lost in his own world—a strange, dark, restless kind of world.
He lounged on the couch, absently turning the jade token at his waist between his fingers, staring into space.
It made Prime Minister Xie and the others too nervous to say a word.
It felt like the emperor was in one of those moods again—the kind he got into right before deciding to kill someone.
The ministers glanced up at the moon.
If we could just get through the point-of-enlightenment ceremony, we could finally leave the palace.
Maybe this year’s Qionglin Banquet would end without disaster.
The so-called “point-of-enlightenment”—dian cui—had actually started back in Emperor Wuzong’s reign. That emperor loved beauty, his harem was packed with women, and their schemes for favor never ceased. One year, plum blossom makeup became all the rage—the concubines would paint little plum designs between their brows, and Wuzong adored it. The trend spread beyond the palace to the common folk, and even from women to men. Eventually, at a Qionglin Banquet, Wuzong himself dipped a jade brush in gold powder and marked the new scholars’ foreheads—calling it “awakening the mind.” Some scholars wouldn’t even wash their faces for a month afterward, so proud were they of the honor.
No one knew who would do the point-of-enlightenment this year.
Prime Minister Xie looked at the emperor—and remembered the last Qionglin Banquet.
That had been the most terrifying one of his career.
In the Great Zhou, there was a major examination once every three years, and the Qionglin Banquet happened just as often. The year the current emperor ascended the throne, Wuzong had presided over the banquet—a final flash of imperial splendor. Spring Palace was packed with people. Even Li Fei and many of the harem were present, watching from behind bamboo screens strung with hundreds of blossoms. The whole palace smelled like perfume. People said you could smell it all the way out on Heaven’s Avenue.
Back then, the current emperor had been away, negotiating with the Hu tribes. He hadn’t yet returned.
And then came the first Qionglin Banquet of his reign, two years after he took the throne. That banquet… was the coldest, bleakest Xie had ever witnessed.
No song, no dance, no music. The new scholars stood stiff with fear inside Spring Palace. Some swore they could smell blood from Clear Peace Hall. The Empress Dowager had claimed illness and stayed hidden in the Mercy Palace. The banquet was dead silent. The emperor sat there, hair loose and disheveled, face gaunt and ashen. He held a jade brush and marked the scholars’ foreheads himself. Two of them collapsed on the spot from sheer terror. They were dragged out.
To this day, Xie still shivered when he thought of it.
And lately, he’d been shivering a lot.
He really ought to retire to the countryside.
If, he thought grimly, if I can even make it to retirement.
Xie was wasting away. Ever since that hunting incident where he and his son had accidentally triggered the emperor’s sudden attack, he’d been living on edge. In all his decades in office, he’d always prided himself on caution—only to make such a colossal blunder now. His family was sick with worry. His son, Xie Liangbi, had been bedridden for days. And with the imperial exam going on, he hadn’t had a moment to rest. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The stress was killing him. Today, he could barely stand without help.
He truly felt like he might not survive the spring.
Judging by things, it would probably be Prince Huan presiding over the point-of-enlightenment this year.
So he trembled as he asked the Empress Dowager, “Your Majesty, has Prince Huan sobered up?”
He’d seen the prince leave earlier, walking steadily enough. Probably just a light buzz.
Please, let him come back and do the ceremony so we can end this torment of a banquet.
The Empress Dowager seemed deeply troubled herself. She said, “Prime Minister Xie, your arrival is timely. There’s something important I wish to discuss with you.”
“Your Majesty, I am at your service.”
But the Empress Dowager rose and began walking slowly toward the lotus pond.
Xie followed behind, listening as she said, “I’ve heard that these past few days, Prime Minister, you’ve neither been eating nor sleeping well?”
“I am humbled, Your Majesty. It’s simply that age has caught up with me. Perhaps it’s time I retired and returned to the countryside.”
But the Empress Dowager said quietly, “His Majesty is fickle in mood. You have served him for many years, with all your strength and devotion. You truly have borne a heavy burden. But tell me this: you still have the chance to retire in peace—but where can I go? Where can the Prince of Huan go?”
“Your Majesty, surely you speak too gravely. Your words truly make this old servant fearful. His Majesty still holds you in deep respect, and as for His Highness the prince, His Majesty cherishes him above all.”
The Empress Dowager fingered the prayer beads in her hand as she slowly walked along the lotus pond, gazing out at the floating lotus lanterns, each adorned with verses penned by the new scholars.
After a while, she turned back to look at Xie. Under the moonlight, her face was drawn with sorrow. “His Majesty’s nature has changed. There is no returning to the way he was when he was crown prince. You and I—we are old. If we must drag out our days in this state, so be it. But as for the line of Emperor Mingzong, all that remains is the Prince of Huan. He’s only just come of age, already so renowned. If we leave him alone by the emperor’s side in the future… how can I have peace in my heart? How could I face our ancestors?”
Xie spoke with great care. “His Highness the prince enjoys His Majesty’s favor like no other. He is truly blessed.”
Maybe even destined for the throne one day, Xie thought, but didn’t dare say.
The Empress Dowager’s smile was bitter. “The Prince of Huan is at the height of his glory. Everyone says His Majesty plans to name him imperial younger brother and heap honors upon him. But tell me, how do you think he earned such favor in just a few short months?”
Xie hesitated. “Your Majesty means to say…?”
Suddenly, the Empress Dowager seized his thin wrist. The tortoiseshell in her nail guards dug into his skin, and beneath the night sky, her phoenix hairpin trembled. Her face, so like the emperor’s—sharp and hollowed—was filled with anguish. “I fear this so-called blessing will bring disaster upon him first.”
Just then, a lady-in-waiting whispered, “Your Majesty, the prince has returned.”
Xie turned to look. He saw the Prince of Huan being helped along slowly by an attendant.
Oh, my head… my head…
His steps were still unsteady.
Didn’t I transmigrate here? I used to be able to hold my liquor just fine. Was it too much? Or has it just been too long since I drank?
His head throbbed. His vision swam. When Shuangfu helped him up earlier, he’d glanced at himself—his clothes were all in place.
So it was all just a dream…
And such a shameful, humiliating dream at that. His cheeks flushed hot just recalling bits and pieces of it.
The Grand Master of Ceremonies stepped forward. “Your Highness, are you feeling better?”
Fu Ye nodded and smiled. “Much better, thank you.”
He’d always been pale and fair, but now his cheeks were flushed red as the dawn. Even the Grand Master, who’d never had a taste for men, felt his heart skip a beat. Beauty like this—once it reaches a certain level, what does it matter if it’s a man or woman?
The prince’s regal robe, with its four-clawed dragon embroidery, only added to that breathtaking, noble air. Supported as he was by attendants, looking so delicate and weary, the whole scene had a grandeur and splendor that dazzled the eye.
He walked through the winding gallery, unaware of how many of the new scholars gazed at him, unable to contain their admiration.
Ah, these young men these days, Xie thought grimly. This fashion for liking one’s own sex—it’s everywhere now.
He suspected that back in their academy days, those scholars probably spent plenty of time sneaking off together behind the changing screens.
Good thing His Highness stayed in the palace—if he ever opened his own residence outside the palace walls, those young men would probably trample the threshold of the Prince of Huan’s estate flat!
From a distance, Fu Ye spotted Fu Huang. His heart grew hot again, the wine’s haze—which had just started to lift—seemed to come rushing back all at once.
He forced himself to look away for now and first went to pay his respects to the Empress Dowager.
She asked, “Has the wine worn off?”
“Your son feels much better now,” Fu Ye replied.
The Empress Dowager beckoned him to sit nearby. Sun Gongzheng quickly had a seat brought forward. Fu Ye glanced once more at the emperor—not far away, their places were arranged so the emperor sat at the center, with the Empress Dowager and Fu Ye on either side. The spot next to the Empress Dowager had originally belonged to the Prince of Ankang, but the prince had quietly shifted down to sit beside his son, smiling that cautious, frail little smile of his.
Fu Ye couldn’t help but feel the contrast. Both he and Ankang had once been considered heirs—seeing the prince now only made Fu Ye more aware of the depth of the emperor’s favor toward him.
He stole another glance at Fu Huang and saw the emperor watching him, making his cheeks burn even hotter. The heat rushed up again.
Quickly, he steadied himself, straightened his robes, and sat properly. The white collar at his throat gleamed, noble and refined—a stark contrast to the image of him clinging to the emperor in tears earlier. The Empress Dowager thought to herself: He truly wasn’t raised in the palace. That is both his strength and his flaw. He knows nothing of the dangers of the court—he truly believes the emperor treats him as a brother would a younger sibling. But when she thought about it further, she couldn’t really blame him. Who would ever imagine the emperor would harbor such thoughts?
Her expression grew serious. “Today’s drunkenness was quite improper. This must never happen again.”
Fu Ye bowed his head in shame. “I understand.”
“And you’re fully clear-headed now?”
“Yes. I just had a bowl of the sober-up soup that Lord Gongzheng brought.”
The Empress Dowager nodded. “Lord Cheng is a man of vast learning, one of the greatest scholars of our time. Would you be willing to take him as your teacher, to be his last and most treasured disciple?”
Fu Ye was taken aback.
How could he possibly refuse? He rose quickly. “I fear my poor learning would only tarnish Lord Cheng’s good name.”
“For Lord Cheng, having a prince as his final disciple would be an honor. With all the officials present today, with this banquet celebrating our new scholars, it’s the perfect moment for this. I have thought long and hard about this for your sake. Do not let me down. May you broaden your knowledge and, in time, become a model of virtue for the Fu clan—someone who brings blessings to our nation and people.”
The Empress Dowager gave a look to the attendant beside her. The attendant stood straight and clapped lightly, and the hall fell silent.
The news that the Prince of Huan was about to formally take a master stunned the crowd.
No one knew how the Empress Dowager had persuaded such a great scholar to remain in the capital and take a prince as his student.
She turned to the emperor. “You have no objection to this, I trust?”
Fu Huang looked at Fu Ye and said, “If you become Lord Cheng’s student, you won’t be able to slack off anymore.”
The Empress Dowager said, “So His Majesty agrees.”
Naturally, Fu Huang agreed. In the hearts of scholars, Lord Cheng’s standing probably surpassed even that of the emperor himself. For Fu Ye, even if it was in name only, to be able to say he was Cheng Wenxi’s student would greatly enhance his reputation.
All these treasures, Fu Huang thought coldly, all of it should belong to him!
Clearly, the Empress Dowager had not decided on a whim. The ceremony was grand and formal. The civil and military officials, the newly minted scholars, both the emperor’s and empress dowager’s courts—all were present. The honor was given to Lord Cheng, but also to Fu Ye.
The Empress Dowager personally awarded Lord Cheng a robe embroidered with nine medallions and a pendant of coiled serpents biting pearls. Following Sun Gongzheng’s guidance, Fu Ye took a silver-inlaid ewer shaped like a crane’s beak and sprinkled water three times at Lord Cheng’s feet, then knelt and bowed, offering up a white jade ruler. Lord Cheng, in return, gifted him copies of The Book of Documents and The Spring and Autumn Annals and personally marked Fu Ye’s forehead with the gold dust of the point-of-wisdom ritual. The ceremony was complete.
Among the crowd, Eunuch Qin thought, That gift is worth far more than the prince’s amber necklace.
Is the Empress Dowager trying to rival His Majesty?
The favor shown to Fu Ye had reached its peak—there was no higher honor.
It was like watching flowers blooming over a blazing fire, dazzling to behold—and frightening. Qin felt as if the prince was about to fall from the heights of the palace eaves, or maybe he had already become a celestial being, ready to take flight.
He’d thought the amber necklace at Fu Ye’s throat had looked familiar, but hadn’t been able to place it. Now, staring at it, he remembered why.
That necklace was so striking because the amber was golden—a rare kind called “golden amber.” Long ago, the Lady of Chu, Consort Zang, a devout Buddhist, had received a similar necklace from Empress Dowager Sun when she married Crown Prince Mingyi. Consort Zang used to wear it often when visiting the palace.
The realization sent a chill through Qin. The ceremony was done, and he glanced at the Empress Dowager. Standing beside the emperor, though not related by blood, their faces bore a striking resemblance—both lean, determined, and commanding respect without even trying.
With the ceremony of apprenticeship complete, Fu Ye then presided over the Point of Wisdom ritual, in his capacity as a prince. By now, the effects of the wine had fully worn off. The grandeur of the ceremony just held lent him an even greater air of nobility and grace. Standing atop the lotus platform, jade brush in hand, he marked the foreheads of the newly appointed scholars with gold dust. The night breeze stirred his robes, making them billow like clouds—he looked, in that moment, like an immortal standing upon a lotus.
The Empress Dowager stood beside Fu Huang, watching it all unfold. She said quietly, “A man like that truly deserves the very best the world has to offer. Don’t you think so, Your Majesty?”
For once, Fu Huang shared the Empress Dowager’s view. His gaze remained fixed on Fu Ye as he answered, “Of course.”
But the smile faded from the Empress Dowager’s lips as she added, “Unrivaled beauty, noble birth, a heart as gentle as fine jade, famed across the realm, adored like the moon among stars. In time, perhaps his name will be recorded in history, revered by millions. Someone like him ought to have only the best this world can give. How could you, knowing that, bear to drag him down—how could you turn him into some wretched plaything, caught up in sordid scandal with his own brother?”
At that moment, the palace’s hundred-strong ensemble played a stately tune; flutes and pipes mingled with the deep, sonorous chime of bronze bells.
Only then did the emperor tear his gaze from Fu Ye and look at the Empress Dowager. His eyes, first distant and dazed, sharpened to a cold, cutting fury.
But the Empress Dowager pressed on. “Lady Zhaoyang may not have given birth to you, but she was your mother in name. In the eyes of the world, Fu Ye is your full brother. Though you didn’t grow up together, you once had true brotherly affection. Since returning to the palace, he’s been nothing but loyal and sincere to you. How can you repay such devotion by dragging him into ruin? Not everyone is as warped as you. Even if it costs me my life, I won’t stand by and let this happen.”
Her expression was stern, gaze fixed on Fu Huang.
Fu Huang’s face darkened, as if black clouds coiled about him. Sun Gongzheng, standing at the Empress Dowager’s side with head bowed, trembled uncontrollably.
Eunuch Qin had already gone deathly pale.
It seemed a long moment before Fu Huang stirred, his voice low and venomous: “Since the Empress Dowager knows I’m not right in the head, why waste your breath?”
“Your Majesty!” the Empress Dowager hissed. “Even madness must have its limits. Are you truly going to destroy him with your own hands? Do you call that love? Or—do you mean to follow in the late emperor’s footsteps?”
A pulse beat visibly at Fu Huang’s temple.
The Empress Dowager knew reason alone would not sway him—his desires ran deep, long plotted. He was not like ordinary men. She chose her words carefully, cutting straight to the heart of his shame: “Or is one Lady of Chu not enough for you? Do you mean to create another with your own hands?”
Beside him, Eunuch Qin dropped to his knees with a loud thud.
Fu Huang felt as if the world tilted, his vision swimming, his eyes bloodshot and wild. He stood there in ominous silence. Qin crawled forward and clutched at the hem of his robe. “Your Majesty…”
The Empress Dowager always knew just where to strike, always knew how to pierce straight into his heart. Truly… truly…
Cold sweat streamed down Qin’s back, but he dared not draw attention. Instead, he flattened himself to the ground, trembling, not daring to say another word.
The Empress Dowager said, “Let him leave the palace. If your feelings for him are real… if there’s still a shred of true affection left in you.”
With that, she placed a hand on Sun Gongzheng’s arm and turned to walk toward Fu Ye. But her foot caught, and she nearly stumbled. The sleeve of her robe brushed across the banquet table, knocking over goblets and dishes; wine spilled onto the brocade cushion beneath, the embroidered peonies instantly darkening.
Fu Ye set down the jade brush and exhaled a long breath.
At last, his duties for the evening were done.
Seeing that the Empress Dowager seemed ready to depart, he quickly stepped down from the lotus platform and bowed. “Is Mother heading back?”
The Empress Dowager didn’t stop; only Sun Gongzheng beside her paused to bow in return.
Once they exited the Hall of Spring’s Grace, her phoenix carriage was already waiting at the doors. As soon as she sat down inside, she slumped over, as if all strength had left her. Sun Gongzheng, stricken with worry, said, “Your Highness, why press him so hard with such harsh words? His Majesty is not entirely without reason. Had you spoken gently—surely he…”
“How could he be any more unreasonable?” the Empress Dowager said bitterly. “I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t know if his feelings are true, or if this is all just some cruel act to destroy Fu Ye.”
If it was true affection, perhaps there was hope. But if it was just a calculated move to ruin Fu Ye… then not even the gods could stop him.
She could only pray now that the emperor’s feelings for Fu Ye were genuine.
The emperor wasn’t a fool. His hesitation, his inaction—it likely meant he knew Fu Ye was upright, that Fu Ye would never cross that line. So far, no one else knew the full truth. If they forced the issue now, if they exposed what the emperor was thinking, there’d be no way to undo the damage. It would only provoke him, leave him with no scruples left. The only choice now was to wait, and see what the emperor would do.
But this was a man ruthless in his decisions, long since cut off from love or kinship. Could his feelings for Fu Ye truly be deep enough for him to let go?
It seemed a slim hope indeed. And yet—they were powerless.
Tonight, she knew, no one would sleep. Overcome with dread, the Empress Dowager could scarcely speak another word.
Sun Gongzheng quickly turned to a lady-in-waiting. “The Empress Dowager is unwell. Summon His Highness the Prince at once to keep vigil!”
Fu Ye was still surrounded by the new scholars, but when he saw that the Empress Dowager had left her seat, and looked displeased, he guessed that she and the emperor had quarreled again.
Those two—truly couldn’t be left in the same room.
He glanced toward Fu Huang, only to see Eunuch Qin still kneeling on the ground, and his heart gave a jolt. Just as he was about to go over, a lady-in-waiting rushed in.
“Your Highness!”
Fu Ye felt a chill of foreboding. “What’s happened?”
“The Empress Dowager has taken ill and asks for you immediately.”
Chancellor Xie’s face had gone ashen, but he steadied himself and said, “The banquet is over, Your Highness. We ministers will see to things here—you go on.”
Without another word, Fu Ye hurried toward the palace gates. After a few steps, he glanced back and saw Fu Huang standing by the lotus pond, staring at him. Eunuch Qin, it seemed, had gotten back to his feet.
“Your Highness,” the lady-in-waiting urged.
As Fu Ye walked, he asked, “How is the Empress Dowager? Did she seem unwell as she was leaving?”
“I couldn’t say, Your Highness. Best you see for yourself.”
Fu Ye turned to Shuangfu. “Go to His Majesty. See if you can find out what happened.”
Shuangfu nodded and hurried back.
When Fu Ye reached the Palace of Merciful Grace, he found the Empress Dowager lying on her couch, her eyes closed, too weak to speak.
He felt her pulse and found that it was only a case of fire rising to the heart—not a grave illness. He summoned the imperial physicians to confirm it, and so they kept vigil into the deep hours of the night. At last, Sun Gongzheng asked him to remain at the palace to watch over her.
It was only proper. Yet Fu Ye found the palace women far too cautious and tense. The Empress Dowager’s illness wasn’t severe, but nearly all the palace guards stood watch outside, swords at the ready. The air of anxiety was palpable.
It made him uneasy too.
He asked Sun Gongzheng quietly, “Did Mother and His Majesty quarrel?”
Sun Gongzheng answered gently, “Their Majesties have never been close. A few harsh words between them—such things are nothing new.”
And that, he supposed, was true enough.
When Fu Ye saw Shuangfu come in, he immediately found an excuse to lead him outside the hall. “What did you find out?”
Shuangfu said, “It seems the Empress Dowager and His Majesty had an argument. It frightened Eunuch Qin so much he dropped to his knees.”
Fu Ye pressed his lips together, then asked, “And how was my brother?”
Shuangfu hesitated, then said, “His Majesty… he was a little terrifying…”
