In Qingyuan Palace, the silence was suffocating.
Eunuch Qin, trembling with fear, had deliberately dismissed all the other attendants.
Only he remained at Fu Huang’s side.
Fu Huang’s entire body seemed to throb with pain, his head felt like it was splitting open. He sat there as if half his life had drained away.
Eunuch Qin was beside himself with worry. He wanted to summon Prince Huan right away, but he was afraid that His Highness already knew everything and would refuse to come.
That would be a true disaster!
Whether he wanted to or not, the prince had to come—for his own safety, it was best if he came willingly, even if just to put on a show of harmony!
No one could go head-to-head with the emperor and hope to win!
Indeed, nothing in this world could be too perfect. Qin had felt uneasy the moment he saw the prince’s grand ceremony of apprenticeship. Everything had gone too smoothly. After suffering so many years at the emperor’s side, he was no longer accustomed to things going so well.
Was the thing he feared most finally about to happen?
To this palace, to Qingyuan itself, Prince Huan was perhaps nothing but a fleeting dream.
He now sat at Fu Huang’s feet, silently weeping.
Fu Huang frowned at him. “What are you crying for?”
Qin hastily wiped his tears. “Your Majesty, how are you feeling? Should I summon the imperial physicians?”
Fu Huang’s voice was dark as night. “Don’t worry. The Empress Dowager won’t say anything.”
Was that so?
That was a relief.
But then Fu Huang added, “You’ve served me for so many years. You are the one I trust most. Every question I ask you next—I want you to answer me honestly.”
Eunuch Qin immediately straightened, kneeling properly. “Your Majesty…”
Fu Huang said, “If I told him everything, how likely is it that he would accept it?”
Qin hesitated. “His Highness… he’s a kind man.”
He raised his eyes to look at Fu Huang. “…Thirty percent… maybe twenty…”
He let out a long sigh. “Your Majesty, I fear His Highness would be frightened.”
Fu Huang muttered, “Wouldn’t he? Any normal person would be frightened, wouldn’t they?”
Qin whispered, “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I must speak against what the Empress Dowager said. If you were truly deranged, would you have suffered to this point?”
Fu Huang said, “Then if I forced myself upon him—what do you think he’d do?”
Qin fell silent.
Though always loyal, offering counsel and strategies, he wasn’t a truly wicked man. Now that His Majesty was asking him in earnest, his answer could determine the prince’s fate. The image of Prince Huan’s gentle, sincere face flashed in his mind. He had never seen a noble so kind-hearted. Just as the Empress Dowager said, the prince truly deserved a better future.
But then… what of his emperor?
Qin lowered his head. “With His Highness’s nature… I fear he would submit. If Your Majesty truly loves him, perhaps it would not be too great a humiliation. Palace life has always been full of such sordid things. With time, perhaps he would grow used to it.”
Fu Huang murmured, “Yes. Perhaps he would.”
That night, with no attendants remaining in the hall, the lampwicks had burned too long. The light dimmed suddenly.
And it made him think of the ever-burning lamp Fu Ye had lit for him.
He said, “I heard that lady was gentle beyond compare, soft-spoken as a saint, like a living Bodhisattva.”
Qin whispered, “Your Majesty…”
His nose stung, and he said, “I am not the late emperor. And he will not become that lady.”
Fu Huang seemed to be in unbearable pain. He slumped against the couch, pressing his forehead.
Qin felt as though the Empress Dowager’s words had struck straight to His Majesty’s soul. Such ruthless words—she knew just how to wound him. The deeper his love, the deeper his dread.
This forbidden longing—mutual love was already hard enough, let alone a one-sided passion.
This was not love—it was a sin.
A sin that would never end well.
That night, exhausted and still recovering from drink, Fu Ye rested on a couch beside the Empress Dowager’s bed as arranged by Palace Steward Sun. In a haze of sleep, he saw the Empress Dowager awaken, her gray hair loose around her face, staring at him in a daze.
“Mother, you’re awake.” Fu Ye rose. “Are you feeling any better?”
The Empress Dowager asked, “What time is it?”
“It’s midnight, Mother.”
The Empress Dowager lay on the couch, gazing at him in silence. After a moment, she said softly, “Your devotion is truly touching.”
Fu Ye replied, “It’s enough that Mother is well. Did Mother argue with the Emperor?”
The Empress Dowager’s expression turned distant. “There are certain things about him I simply cannot accept.”
Fu Ye moved a little closer, pulling the brocade blanket around her more snugly. “Mother, truly, my imperial brother is not bad at heart. He does care for you. It’s just that the rift of the past still lingers. Neither of you is willing to yield, so misunderstandings arise. I am fortunate to have both Mother’s and the Emperor’s affection—please, allow me to mediate between you.”
The Empress Dowager looked at him and reached out her hand.
He took it gently.
Her hand was thin and frail, the back of it like a withered branch—ever since her illness, she had grown so terribly thin.
“You’ve been away for many years. You don’t know all that has happened in this time. What’s done is done, and words can’t change it. But remember this: the Emperor is no longer the elder brother you once knew.”
She sighed deeply, lying back, her gray hair spilling loosely over the pillow. But she kept holding his hand, not letting go.
Fu Ye stayed in the Empress Dowager’s palace until midday the next day. Then Eunuch Qin came in person, saying that His Majesty’s headaches had flared up again and that the Emperor was summoning him.
Fu Ye glanced at the Empress Dowager. She clutched at his robe, then let go, utterly spent. “Go on,” she said softly.
Fu Ye rose from the floor and walked out.
Eunuch Qin saw that the amber necklace was still at Fu Ye’s neck, and he merely lowered his head and followed Fu Ye outside.
Fu Ye turned back and saw Grand Eunuch Sun and the other palace ladies all standing silently beneath the eaves, watching him.
He asked Qin softly, “Does Your Excellency know why Mother and my imperial brother quarreled?”
Qin said, “The Empress Dowager wished for Your Highness to leave the palace and establish your own residence. His Majesty was not willing, and so there was strife.”
Fu Ye looked at him, astonished. “Over that? Why would Mother suddenly want me to leave the palace?”
Qin asked gently, “Does Your Highness wish to leave?”
Fu Ye replied, “Of course not. And surely my brother wouldn’t allow it either?”
He suspected this might be one of his brother’s ways of probing his intentions, so he added, “Since I’ve promised His Majesty I would remain in the palace, I won’t go back on my word.”
Qin smiled faintly, but there was weariness in his face. “I know. In this whole palace, only Your Highness truly worries for His Majesty.”
Fu Ye, anxious about the Emperor’s illness, walked swiftly, and soon arrived at Qingyuan Palace. The palace was eerily silent—no servants in sight. He strode into the main hall, but still saw no one. Glancing back, he saw Qin had stopped at the door and quietly shut it behind them.
Fu Ye’s heart skipped a beat. He paused, then continued inward.
Passing the curtains, he saw Fu Huang slumped on the couch, still wearing yesterday’s black dragon robe, the golden dragon coiled across his chest. His hair remained tied with the gold crown, but his face was ashen, frighteningly pale.
“Brother,” Fu Ye hurried over and knelt beside him. “How long has your head been hurting? Why didn’t you summon me yesterday?”
He saw the medicine box at hand, with cloths and hot water prepared, but no attendants—none but Qin. It all felt off. He washed his hands, wiped them dry, and urged Fu Huang to lie down.
Fu Huang complied without resistance, letting him apply the needles.
The room was hushed. As Fu Ye worked, he said, “I won’t leave the palace. If this has made you sick from worry, I don’t know what else I can say to set your mind at ease.”
Fu Huang stayed silent until the needles were set. Then, lying there, he finally spoke. “Do you remember what you did while drunk?”
Fu Ye was weighed down with worry, and this sudden question made his heart jolt—he nearly dropped a needle.
Flustered, he stammered, “Your servant-brother was insensible from drink.”
Then he asked, “Did I offend Your Majesty?”
It had to have been a dream, surely?
But Fu Huang said, “Yes.”
Fu Ye’s eyes widened in shock.
Fu Huang’s face remained drawn and haggard, a deep furrow between his brows.
“You were drunk,” Fu Huang said, “and quite debauched.”
Ah—ah—ah—ah!
Fu Ye’s face flushed crimson in an instant.
Seeing him redden like that reminded Fu Huang of how he’d looked after drinking: cheeks, neck, even chest tinged pink, the soft flush spreading down his whole body. It had—
“So you truly remember nothing?” Fu Huang pressed.
“N-no, Your servant-brother would never be improper toward you when sober…” Fu Ye hesitated, face burning. “I… how… how was I debauched?”
Fragments of memory flickered, vague and indistinct—but there had been something shameful, he feared.
Could he really have acted that way in front of Fu Huang?
Had the Empress Dowager seen it?
Was that why they argued?
Goosebumps prickled over him. His hands shook so that a needle fell to the floor when he tried to pick it up.
Never had he felt so starkly the disgrace of his hidden feelings.
For a moment, his mind went utterly blank.
Fu Huang said quietly, “What a pity. I thought even knowing it was your brother, you still wanted to have me.”
Fu Ye: “!!!”
His expression changed in a flash as he turned to look at Fu Huang, who lay watching him darkly from the couch.
“… That can’t be true! Your servant-brother, no matter how lost to propriety, would never raise a hand against his brother. I would never… I…”
His voice faltered. His face was crimson.
Fu Huang’s gaze grew cold. “As it should be. If even one’s own brother is an object of lust, what’s left of human decency? Only a monster would do such a thing.”
Fu Ye clenched his trembling hands and lowered his head, the flush fading from his face. “Yes,” he said softly.
His heart felt as though it had plummeted into an abyss.
“I’ll never touch a drop of liquor again,” Fu Ye vowed.
Fu Huang lay there, his gaze dark as night, shattering the last illusion he had clung to.
He saw now that his schemes had all been lies he told himself. No machination could force a decent brother into such a union. And he was no deluded tyrant who could seize what wasn’t his by right.
Fu Ye glanced at him again, feeling for the first time that Fu Huang’s presence was truly terrifying.
He wondered if, drunk as he had been the night before, he might have done something even more outrageous—that that was why the Emperor was so cold now.
His hands and feet felt chilled through. In the heavy scent of medicine, he said quietly, “When I came in just now, I saw the peonies in the courtyard have all withered. The peonies at Fengchun Palace are blooming well—we could have some of them transplanted here.”
The peonies at Qingyuan Palace always bloomed early, and so they withered early too. Peonies—so splendid when in full bloom, so rich and glorious—but the flowers were too large, the petals too thin. The moment they began to wilt, they fell apart into ruin.
Fu Huang gave a soft “mm.”
Fu Ye felt lost. His fingers curled slightly, and he forced a smile. “At the Qionglin Banquet yesterday, I heard the new scholars saying that the crabapples across the capital are in bloom, the streets all awash in falling petals. I thought I’d like to see it for myself.”
Another soft “mm” from Fu Huang. Then: “Do you know why there are so many crabapple trees planted in the capital?”
Fu Ye shook his head, smiling faintly. “I don’t know that.”
Fu Huang said, “The Lady of Chu—your mother—loved pear blossoms best. The late Emperor took her by force, coaxed and threatened, and built the Lihua Palace for her. Lihua Palace used to be nothing more than a pear orchard.”
Fu Ye was stunned to hear him speak of his birth mother so directly.
But Fu Huang went on, as if speaking to himself: “But pear blossoms are too fleeting. To please her, the late Emperor had other trees planted—cherries, peaches, crabapples—so something would always be in bloom.
But none of it was what she wanted.
All she wanted was him dead.
That’s the thing about a ruler’s one-sided, unlawful desire—what he sees as love, others see as vile and revolting. What’s left behind is not a legacy of affection, but a lifetime’s shame.”
Fu Ye gazed at him, stunned.
For a moment, it felt as if Fu Huang had seen right into the foul depths of his heart—and been disgusted by what he found there.
“Then… I won’t go see the flowers,” Fu Ye said softly, drawing in on himself, head lowered, hands and feet stiff with shame.
Fu Huang looked at him long, and said, “Having you at my side is a blessing beyond measure. But to keep you here for my own selfish desire—how is that any different from the late Emperor’s sin? I could become anything in this life—anything but him. Go, my brother. Leave the palace. Go see the flowers—the crabapples, the cherries, the lotuses, the osmanthus—you’ve always loved flowers. They are blameless. Take the orchid I gave you, and go.”
Fu Ye sat frozen.
Then, driven by instinct, he dropped to his knees. “Your servant-brother wishes to stay! If I’ve done anything wrong, Your Majesty may punish me as you see fit. Didn’t you say you wanted me by your side always?”
Fu Huang swayed, dizzy again, and held out a hand to stop him. “It’s because I care for you as a brother that I do this! If you stay, what next—should we commit that sin together?!”
Fu Ye collapsed onto the floor, his robes pooling around him like the peony petals scattered in the mud.
This attack seemed worse than the last. Fu Ye hurriedly called for Qin. The palace fell into a flurry of motion.
When at last Fu Ye left the hall, he saw that it had begun to rain.
The withered peonies in the courtyard were now battered into utter ruin by the downpour.
He called Double Fortune over and asked, “Last night—when I was drunk—did His Majesty come to see me?”
Double Fortune nodded.
“What happened? Did you see?”
Double Fortune hesitated. “Once Your Highness lay down, we left the room. Later, His Majesty and the Eunuch came, saying they had a portrait of a beauty to show Your Highness. After that… after that, I heard you crying. I wanted to go in, but the Eunuch wouldn’t allow it. And then the Empress Dowager arrived. We went in then and found you clinging to His Majesty, weeping.”
The rain lashed down, heavy and fast, soaking through Fu Ye’s robes.
So—it was over.
This delusion of his—brotherly affection, shared light and grace—what a fool’s dream for someone with a guilty heart.
Xiao Ai said in his head: “I was only gone half a day—how did you manage to make such a mess of things?!”
Fu Ye was silent.
“Ah, forget it. Maybe it’s better this way—now you can give up your fantasy. And don’t go thinking this was your fault. Even if the two of you did feel the same, do you really think you could have been together?”
Fu Ye stared blankly. “I suppose not…”
The dream was over.
And Fu Huang, to Fu Ye’s surprise, was calm. He merely ordered Qin to see that the prince’s new residence be prepared with all due splendor.
“Tell the building office and the artisans—if they don’t meet my standards, they can answer for it themselves.”
Qin wiped his tears as he obeyed.
Fu Huang’s head throbbed fiercely. “You can save your tears for after I’m dead.”
Qin wept all the harder.
He was old now, thin and worn, looking so pitiful that Fu Huang only felt more hateful toward himself. Even this loyal old servant deserved better than to stay. So he said, “If you cry again, you can go with him when he leaves.”
Qin dared not shed another tear.
Fu Huang’s head pounded. “The Empress Dowager forced my hand. What was I to do—let him find out I wanted him in my bed? It’s not as though he’s leaving forever. So what are you crying for? Get out.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty… I must be getting old.” Qin bowed low and shuffled away.
Alone, Fu Huang lay down fully dressed.
His mind reeled. He fought the impulse to get up, go now, and seek out Fu Ye’s chambers.
He could scream until his throat was raw—no one would come to save him.
And yet…
Yet compared to his body, what Fu Huang craved even more was his affection.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t force him, couldn’t make him part of his harem if he wished.
But if he did that, he would no longer have a brother who would light a lantern for him through the long, dark nights.
To rot away alone as a mad emperor in this deep and lonely palace—that was fine.
At least before he rotted entirely, he could still savor a few more years of brotherly harmony.
The next day, the emperor issued an edict: the Prince of Huan was to leave the palace and establish his own residence.
Shuangfu didn’t understand why His Majesty suddenly decided to send His Highness out of the palace. But over at the Empress Dowager’s quarters, the mood was jubilant. The decree had barely been announced before Lady Sun, the palace matron, came in person to help pack up. She said the prince’s new residence had everything one could need, and whatever the prince liked in the palace could be sent over later—there was no need to take it all at once.
It seemed they really just wanted His Highness to leave sooner.
Or maybe the prince’s new home truly lacked for nothing.
Shuangfu muttered, “But Qingxi still hasn’t recovered…”
What a shame that Qingxi was too ill to come along.
Feeling a little regretful, Shuangfu climbed into the carriage.
His Majesty cherished the prince so much that he granted a rare honor: the prince’s personal attendants were allowed to ride in the carriages alongside him.
Ordinarily, what palace servant would ever enjoy such a privilege?
Shuangfu started to feel excited again.
Before leaving, His Highness spent a long time consulting with the palace physicians, speaking with them at length, and even writing out detailed instructions for fear that his spoken words wouldn’t be enough. Only then did he go to the main hall to take his leave of His Majesty.
The emperor remained inside; he didn’t come out. The prince knelt respectfully at the hall doors, then rose, carrying the orchid with him as he boarded the carriage.
He thought, Master Qin is truly a good man.
He was so unwilling to see the prince go that he actually sat at the hall doors and wept. His Highness had seen it, too.
Shuangfu wanted to tell His Highness, but seeing the prince’s somber mood, he thought better of it. No need to make him sadder.
Though the world outside the palace was wide and free, and the prince would surely enjoy his newfound freedom, he’d lived in the palace for so long… and His Majesty had treated him so well.
They said the prince’s residence was filled with treasures; recently, several great carts of valuables had been sent over from the palace—it was as if they’d emptied out the entire treasury!
Among them were rare wonders, like the white jade ruyi scepter said to have been Lady Li’s favorite in the previous dynasty, the celadon wine cup with red underglaze once used by Emperor Mingzong, the hibiscus stone incense burner with coiled dragon handles gifted by a foreign land, the rose glass box with twin-ring handles shaped like grapevines, and even the emperor’s prized inlaid screen from his study.
After leaving Qingyuan Palace, the prince also went to bid farewell to the Empress Dowager.
She seemed terribly worn and haggard, but showered the prince with treasures as a parting gift.
And so, at last, they departed the palace.
His Majesty had treated the prince with extraordinary kindness.
He allowed him to leave through the main gate, sent the imperial guards under Li Dun to escort him, with over a hundred golden-armored soldiers leading the way. Music filled the air, dignified and grand.
As they passed through one gate after another, Shuangfu, though not leaving the palace for the first time, couldn’t help but feel emotional—this time they were headed to the prince’s estate, no longer servants of the inner court. It was thrilling, and a little unnerving. Looking at the long palace roads and the towering walls all around, he felt both awed and a bit stifled.
He even felt sorry for the Empress Dowager and the emperor.
But then again, why should he pity nobles?
This was the imperial palace, after all—there was no place in the world more exalted than this!
As the carriage passed through the Celestial Gate, crowds of common folk lined the streets, having no doubt heard word that the Prince of Huan was leaving the palace to establish his household.
Among them, Shuangfu thought he spotted Xie Liangbi, son of the Xie family.
There he stood amid the people, thin yet still strikingly handsome.
There was also that Xiao fellow—whatever his name was—he’d served as an imperial guard too.
Both were incredibly handsome.
And now, no one could control His Highness anymore!
Handsome young men, here comes our prince!
Thinking of this, Shuangfu couldn’t help but get excited. He turned eagerly to look at His Highness.
But what he saw was the prince cradling an embroidered box, his head lowered.
The box was exquisite, but it couldn’t compare to the orchid inside.
And no orchid, no matter how beautiful, could compare to the prince himself.
“Your Highness, Your Highness—look, the morning clouds are so beautiful out there.”
But as soon as he spoke, he froze.
Because he saw that His Highness was holding the flower and crying.
Shuangfu was so startled he didn’t dare say another word.
The prince wept for a while, then used his sleeve to wipe the tears from the box.
And just like that, he stopped crying, muttering to himself, “Damn it.”
Shuangfu: “……”
His Highness really changes moods fast.
“Don’t be sad, Your Highness. If you ever miss His Majesty, you can always come back.”
“Yes.” The prince’s voice was thick with emotion. His chin was sharp, his face pale as if from some hidden illness. “Crying like a damn fool.”
It felt just like a broken heart.
But where was there any love to break?
He’d been a fraud from the start, daring to reach for someone who lived above the nine heavens.
Back in Qingyuan Palace, the emperor lay sprawled on his couch like a dragon coiled in its lair, dark and brooding.
“Is he gone?” he asked.
Eunuch Qin’s voice was a little hoarse. “By now, he’s nearly at his new residence.”
“He’ll earn the respect of all the people. He’ll become a great ruler, remembered for generations,” the emperor said quietly.
He wanted Fu Ye to become the man he himself could never be—to have the best of everything in this world.
Eunuch Qin gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, thinking that compared to His Majesty’s feelings, all those so-called royal affections through the ages weren’t worth a thing.
In Cien Palace, Lady Sun softly reported back, “Your Majesty, the prince has arrived at his residence.”
The empress dowager showed no sign of joy. She only murmured, “He actually let him go…”
So… his feelings really ran that deep?
If his feelings ran so deep, then maybe this separation wasn’t the end at all—maybe it was just the beginning.
The Prince of Huan’s residence had originally been the former estate of the Prince of Qi. But after the Prince of Huan returned, the Empress Dowager had ordered it renovated and expanded. Now, it boasted more than six hundred rooms, divided into three main sections: the residence itself, a grand garden, and a Buddhist hall.
It took Fu Ye several days just to get familiar with the layout of the place.
He’d always dreamed of leaving the palace, eager to finally experience the splendor of the capital. But now that he was out, he wandered through it all in a daze, like he was trapped in a dream. Deep down, he found himself longing to go back.
Turns out, who you’re with matters far more than where you are.
But in truth, this separation was for the best—for him, and for the emperor.
Xiao Ai had been right: even if they’d felt the same for each other, with their identities as royal brothers, forever in the public eye, being together would’ve been nothing but unbearable pressure.
A doomed love is doomed, no matter how you look at it.
With that thought, he shook off his gloom and decided to head out.
Jiantaicheng really was a wonderful place—vibrant and dazzling. The night market drums rang out, and to his surprise, there wasn’t even a curfew.
He tasted the famed lotus tower’s cherry fritters—the crab-stuffed oranges were truly unforgettable.
The palace chefs’ version just couldn’t compare to the real thing.
What a shame His Majesty never got to try it, he thought.
For a moment, he considered sending some to the palace. But then he felt guilty and decided against it.
He knew wallowing in his sorrow would only bring harm to himself and others. He had to force himself to embrace this new life beyond the palace walls.
As for Fu Huang letting him leave the palace, it hadn’t meant severing ties. The emperor had simply hoped that by focusing solely on their brotherly bond, they could preserve what they had now.
Who could’ve guessed that once the prince left, he’d just… forget him?
“Reporting to Your Majesty—the prince went to the night market today. He didn’t return until midnight.”
“Reporting to Your Majesty—today, the newly appointed top scholar and some others visited the prince. They held a Welcoming Summer Song Gathering in the prince’s garden. Here are the poems they composed.”
“Reporting to Your Majesty—the prince drank too much at the Lotus Tower tonight…”
The spies began to hesitate, unsure how much more they dared report.
The emperor looked angrier and angrier with every word.
Eunuch Qin quietly waved the informants away.
Since the day the prince left, the emperor hadn’t stepped foot outside Qingyuan Palace. The entire place felt like a dark, cold tomb now, filled with nothing but the sharp, bitter stench of medicine.
Eunuch Qin stood silently at his side.
The emperor clutched the prince’s robe around him and said, “So he really is heartless. Ungrateful.”
Eunuch Qin echoed him: “Indeed. All while Your Majesty can’t even eat for worrying over him.”
The emperor gave him a look.
Eunuch Qin asked, “Shall we summon the prince back to scold him?”
The emperor’s face had darkened these last few days; his temper was wild, his mind seemingly fraying at the edges. He thought for a long moment, then said, “I’ve already done everything I could.”
“Yes. Your Majesty has done all that could be done,” Eunuch Qin agreed softly.
The emperor’s eyes gleamed darkly. “How long do you think before he can’t go without a pretty boy?”
Eunuch Qin said, “There are plenty of handsome young scholars among this year’s graduates.”
The emperor slumped back on the couch. Draped in Fu Ye’s crimson robe, he looked less like a brooding black dragon and more like a blood-red serpent—dangerous, unhinged.
He hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot. “He’d better come crawling back to me in the next couple of days. If he does, maybe he can still be my good little brother.”
