At that moment, Fu Ye’s carriage had just passed through the nearby side gate and reached Tianmen Gate. The palace attendant quickly turned the carriage around.
Tianmen stood tall and imposing, flanked by two massive xiezhi beasts, each several stories high, their majestic forms bathed in the golden light streaming from behind. Outside Tianmen, rows of imperial guards in golden armor stood at attention, bowing in unison as he passed.
But as the palace gates closed behind him, the captain of the gate guards hesitated, clearly troubled. “Your Highness, you’ve already left the palace. The gates have been shut. To re-enter… we’ll need to file a report first.”
“Then go report it now,” Fu Ye said without a moment’s pause.
The officer dared not delay and immediately sent a subordinate off to deliver the message.
By now, the morning light was full and bright. Shuangfu eyed Fu Ye nervously and asked in a timid voice, “Your Highness, what’s wrong? Is His Majesty’s illness… very serious?”
Very serious.
He almost died.
Fu Ye stood at the gates, pacing anxiously. He had long grown accustomed to the demeanor expected of a prince — keeping his emotions in check before these armored guards. But his throat felt tight, so tight it hurt. He barked at the guards, “Take a horse and ride the message in!”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
But even on horseback, they could only ride so far; after that, it would be on foot — from the outer guards to the palace attendants, one report after another, all the way up to Qingyuan Palace.
Inside Qingyuan Palace…
No sooner had the prince left than the eastern side courtyard’s carved gates opened.
Lately, this was where the emperor took his meals and handled state affairs.
Fu Huang had barely touched his breakfast, just managing a bowl of medicinal porridge and two bowls of herbal decoction.
He drank in silence, his face expressionless.
Qin Neijian handed him a warm towel. “Since His Highness plans to come after his lessons, shall I ask the imperial kitchen to prepare extra dishes he enjoys for dinner?”
Fu Huang turned to him. “You need my permission for that?”
Qin Neijian smiled. “It’s just… this old servant got carried away. It’s been so long since I’ve had the honor of serving His Highness a meal.”
Fu Huang understood his meaning and said only, “It’s like drinking poison to quench thirst.”
Wanting him to visit more often — knowing that having him here was no different from when he lived in the palace — it was nothing but self-inflicted torment.
It only added to his troubles.
Maybe it was the lingering illness, but Fu Huang felt he was no longer as decisive, as ruthless, as he once was.
A lifetime’s worth of anguish, all wasted on this one man. But so be it. If this poison was the only thing keeping him alive, he’d drink it to the bitter end.
Qin Neijian took back the towel and handed him a cup to rinse his mouth. “His Highness truly cares for Your Majesty.”
Though not the kind of care His Majesty had hoped for.
But still — that kind of devotion was rare enough.
Fu Huang said nothing, rinsing his mouth before instructing, “Summon Chancellor Xie and the others.”
No sooner had the prince left than Xie and the rest arrived at the eastern side of the palace. Now they waited in the western annex of the imperial study.
Qin Neijian went to bring them in.
It was Left General Xu Zongyuan’s first time entering this wing. He glanced up at the plaque over the door. “Wasn’t this where His Highness used to live?”
Xie shot him a warning look.
But Qin Neijian only smiled. “It’s His Majesty’s residence now. Please, gentlemen, come inside.”
And when they stepped in, they saw luxury beyond imagining — the kind of splendor fit for immortals.
Xu Zongyuan stared, stunned.
A rough man, he rarely entered the palace, and when he did, it was always to the main hall. He’d pitied the emperor before, thinking His Majesty’s residence so plain it wasn’t fit for royalty — less grand, even, than his own estate. He’d gone home and felt ashamed of his comforts, even built himself a shabby “hall of reflection” out of guilt. He’d heard the emperor despised officials who lived too well.
But now, seeing this place… So His Majesty knows how to enjoy life after all. This was a residence so exquisite even gods might covet it.
Outside the windows, roses bloomed in profusion, their fragrance drifting through the air. The half-open vermillion windows looked like something out of a painting. The emperor sat by that window, and as Xu Zongyuan stole a glance at him, he saw a man gaunt and severe, even more so than before, his brow furrowed as he listened to their discussion of the campaign.
In the neighboring Da Yong, a new ruler had ascended the throne, changing the country’s name to Liang. Their new sovereign, Huang Tianyi, was a military genius—fierce and warlike. At first, people thought that after overthrowing the Chen dynasty of Da Yong, he would be content to simply rule. But who could have expected his ambitions were so vast? In just the past few days, his army had marched right up to the gates of Langguo.
Langguo was a vassal state of Great Zhou. The Consort Fang, who kept the palace chronicles, was a princess from Langguo. Though Langguo’s territory was small—just two provinces and six counties—its location was of immense strategic importance. The long, narrow strip of land lay right between Great Zhou and Great Liang.
Langguo had sent word begging for reinforcements. As the suzerain, Great Zhou naturally had to respond. Today, Chancellor Xie, along with the ministers of war and personnel, and several military commanders, had come to the palace to discuss the matter of aiding Langguo.
Inside the imperial study, the officials discussed the neighboring ruler, this Huang Tianyi, famed for his unbroken string of victories. Their voices were filled with caution and concern. Qin Neijian, listening by the doorway, couldn’t help but recall the Fuhuang of yesteryear.
He remembered how in his prime, Fuhuang too had never lost a battle. Now this new sovereign of Liang was enjoying his moment of glory—who knew how he would compare to His Majesty?
As Qin Neijian let his thoughts wander, he noticed a palace attendant hurrying into the courtyard, standing just inside the carved gate, signaling to him.
He went over and asked, “What is it?”
The attendant kept his head low and replied, “The Gate Office sent word: His Highness the Prince wishes to reenter the palace.”
Qin Neijian froze for a moment. “The Prince left the palace already?”
“Yes, just now. He’s at the gate now,” the attendant added in a low voice, “They said His Highness… seems very anxious.”
Qin Neijian immediately went to inform Fuhuang.
Fuhuang said, “Wasn’t he planning to come at dinnertime?”
In front of the gathered ministers, Qin Neijian cautiously suggested, “Perhaps something urgent has come up.”
And with that, he quickly headed out himself to welcome the prince.
Thankfully, the imperial kitchen had prepared some of the prince’s favorite dishes for breakfast today.
In no time, Fu Ye’s carriage pulled up at the main gates of Qingyuan Palace.
Qin Neijian hurried out with a smile to greet him, but saw that the prince had already leapt down from the carriage and was striding straight inside.
The palace attendants at the gate bowed as he passed.
Qin Neijian hurried after him. “Your Highness, what brings you back?”
But when he saw the prince’s unusual expression—his eyes rimmed with red—he grew alarmed. “What’s happened?”
“Where is His Majesty?” Fu Ye asked urgently.
A chill of foreboding ran through Qin Neijian; it felt like something grave was about to happen. He stammered, “His Majesty is… is…”
His Majesty was in the east wing.
But the east wing was no place for the prince to go now. If he went in, he’d see everything—his own robes discarded there just that morning, the tea set he often used, all of it still sitting inside.
And above it all, the new plaque—His Majesty had renamed that hall Chun Zhao Tang (Spring Dawn Hall). The characters on the plaque were from a poem the prince had written himself. The calligraphy was neat, but not particularly fine—it was obvious at a glance that it was the prince’s own hand.
“His Majesty is meeting with the ministers now. Perhaps Your Highness might wait in the main hall?”
Seeing the prince’s strained expression, Qin Neijian was deeply shaken. He quickly ushered Fu Ye into the main hall and immediately called for Shuangfu.
“What’s happened to His Highness?” he asked in a low, urgent voice.
Shuangfu had long since been scared stiff. “I don’t know…”
Qin Neijian felt like tearing his hair out. In this moment, he actually missed Qingxi’s steady presence. “Then why is His Highness like this?”
Shuangfu stammered, “His Highness was looking over His Majesty’s medical records in the carriage… and then, well, he became like this.”
“Medical records?”
“Before we left the palace, we stopped by the Imperial Medical Bureau… oh, right, and we also went to Cien Palace.”
At that, Qin Neijian’s face changed. He glanced at Fu Ye’s expression and felt his hands and feet go cold. This isn’t good, he thought. The prince’s expression was so grave—surely he’d learned something by now.
Without another word, he hurried off at a run toward the east wing.
Heavens above, he thought bitterly, just a little while ago I was all happy, thinking the prince was coming back to have breakfast with His Majesty…
And now look at this mess!
When he reached the east wing, he couldn’t say much in front of the ministers, so he kept his composure. Fu Huang glanced at him briefly, then conferred with the chancellor and the others a bit longer before dismissing them.
The ministers filed out of the east wing. As they passed through the carved gate, they spotted a plump little eunuch in a blue robe standing in the courtyard, and several red-robed attendants stationed at the doors of the main hall.
Chancellor Xie asked one of the gate attendants, “Has His Highness entered the palace?”
“He has,” the attendant replied.
Xu Zongyuan perked up. “Where is he? Where is he?”
He’d heard the prince’s name many times, but had never seen him in person.
The Minister of War shot him a sharp look. As they crossed the courtyard, they caught sight of Fu Ye standing at the doors of the main hall.
He was dressed in a litchi-colored dragon robe, leaning slightly against the doorframe. The breeze tugged at his sleeves, making the embroidered gold dragons seem ready to take flight. When he noticed the ministers, he straightened and nodded politely, then turned his back to them.
They were still some distance away, but Xu Zongyuan stared at him, thinking, Good heavens, so that’s His Highness the Prince?
No wonder they all say he’s beautiful—he looks like some little god descended from heaven.
As the ministers exited Qingyuan Palace, the Minister of War quietly said to Chancellor Xie, “The prince hasn’t been in the palace for quite some time, has he?”
After the prince left the palace that time, he hadn’t set foot back in for a whole month. They’d all whispered among themselves, wondering if he’d fallen out of favor.
They say serving a ruler is like living beside a tiger, he thought. And our current emperor? He’s not easy to please.
Chancellor Xie didn’t dare say a word, terrified of even thinking about getting caught up in this business. The thought made him walk even faster.
The Minister of War stared at him. This is the same man who keeps saying he’s old and feeble and wants to retire? Look at him go now—fast as lightning!
Meanwhile, Qin Neijian was reporting to Fu Huang. “Your Majesty, the prince’s expression… it’s really not right. He looked absolutely frightening.”
He was so flustered he was nearly in tears. “Your Majesty, has he discovered something? I’ve never seen him look like that before.”
Heavens save me, he thought miserably. The blade’s been hanging over our heads this whole time. Looks like today’s the day it finally falls!
Fu Huang was silent for a long moment.
“Your Majesty, please—please hang on!” Qin Neijian begged.
Fu Huang finally spoke. “The Empress Dowager wouldn’t dare.”
“But Your Majesty, from the look on the prince’s face—he’s terrifying. He came in with the force of a storm.”
Fu Huang said quietly, “You’re saying he read the medical records?”
“Yes. Shuangfu said that before they left the palace, they stopped by the Empress Dowager’s palace, then went to the Imperial Medical Bureau and took Your Majesty’s medical records.”
Something stirred in Fu Huang’s heart. A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips.
Look at us now, he thought. We don’t seem like brothers at all anymore.
He stood there in the hall for a long while. Outside, the whole courtyard was filled with swaying roses, blooming even more wildly in the summer heat. After a while, he stepped out. Behind him, the plaque above the hall bore two characters—Spring Morning—written in green ink. The handwriting wasn’t particularly elegant, but you could tell it had been written with care.
When Fu Ye wrote those words, his heart had been sincere, his feelings genuine. And so, his wish had come true.
By now, many of the palace eunuchs had quietly gathered in the courtyard, watching Fu Ye from a distance as he stood at the main hall doors.
The palace felt so empty now. Even the smell of medicine had faded to almost nothing. Just earlier, Chancellor Xie and the others had come out of the east wing. No doubt that was where Fu Huang had been staying these days.
So when he was at death’s door, was it in that eastern wing too?
Xiao Ai’s voice echoed in his mind: Hold it together, hold it together! Brother, your feelings are written all over your face! I’m telling you, take a breath before you see him—otherwise you’re going to fall apart.
But then footsteps approached from outside. First came a group of eunuchs, and then the hem of Fu Huang’s robe appeared.
Shuangfu, pale with nerves, hurried over and whispered, “Your Highness, His Majesty is here.”
Fu Ye turned his head—and there was Fu Huang, already at the steps of the hall.
He still looked deathly ill. In the bright summer sun, his face seemed even paler, utterly lifeless, like he’d crawled up from the underworld itself. The bitter scent of medicine clung to him. The moment Fu Ye saw him, tears welled up again, but he straightened his back.
The wind swept through the courtyard. Fu Ye stood there in his royal robes, lips pressed tight, his eyes red and swollen as if he’d been crying for a long time.
Qin Neijian was so alarmed he practically ran over in tiny, panicked steps. “Your Highness, what’s happened?”
The attendants under the eaves were too frightened to move a muscle.
Fu Huang climbed the steps and stopped under the eaves, studying him for a long moment. “What’s wrong with you?”
Be careful, be careful, Xiao Ai warned.
But Fu Ye couldn’t hear it anymore.
To hell with being careful.
He lifted the medical records in his hand and called out, “Brother…”
He only got out those two syllables before his voice broke with anguish and grief. Choking back sobs, he forced himself to continue, “Brother, your illness was this severe—why didn’t you tell me?”
Seeing his tear-streaked, tormented face, Fu Huang’s heart ached bitterly. He forced out, “It’s all fine now.”
“Yes, right,” Fu Ye said, voice trembling. “It’s fine now.”
His fingers clenched around the records. “You really are heartless.”
And with that, he turned to leave. But Fu Huang reached out and grabbed him. “You stay away for a month and I’m the heartless one?”
“You’re the one who ordered me out of the palace! You never summoned me—how was I supposed to dare come back? How was I to know whether you even wanted to see me?”
Fu Huang had no reply. Seeing Fu Ye crying like that, so pitiful, his own heart twisted painfully. Softly, he said, “It was my fault.”
But looking at Fu Huang, so thin, so close to death’s door—what fault could he possibly have? The fault was mine, Fu Ye thought. Fear and regret gripped him so tightly he couldn’t think straight anymore. He hated Fu Huang for being so cruel. He hated himself for being so wretched. Overcome, he lowered his head, his sobs breaking from his chest in heaving gasps. His whole body went numb; even his arms started to shake.
Fu Huang pulled him into his arms. “It’s my fault,” he murmured. “All of it—my fault.”
He understood why Fu Ye was like this. To have someone love him so deeply—even as a brother—it was enough for this life. He could ask for nothing more.
Fu Ye just wept, his tears soaking Fu Huang’s shoulder. The bitter scent of medicine, the warmth of Fu Huang’s body—even sick, at least he was still alive. But Fu Ye couldn’t go on like this. Through his sobs, he said, “I’m not leaving again. I’m staying here. I’m staying with you.”
Fu Huang froze when he heard those words. Seeing Fu Ye’s tear-filled eyes, how could he bring himself to refuse? All he could do was softly say, “Alright… don’t go.”
“I want to move back into the palace,” Fu Ye choked out through his tears.
Fu Huang gave a soft “Mm” and said, “Move back.”
Fu Ye’s nose burned even more. Crying harder, he said, “And you can’t look down on me!”
“When have I ever looked down on you?” Fu Huang replied again.
Fu Ye lifted his tear-streaked face to look at him. Fu Huang’s jawline was sharp and angular now, his nose high and defined—he’d grown so thin that he looked almost unfamiliar. In that moment, Fu Ye’s sorrow and despair only deepened. He said, “I love you—and it’s all your fault. You’ve treated me so well, so out of the ordinary, how was I supposed to stay normal?”
He added, voice trembling, “It’s no use if you despise me. I love you anyway. Even if I die, I’ll cling to you.”
And the moment the words left his mouth, the flood of love that had filled his heart broke free at last.
Fu Huang stood frozen, speechless.
Author’s note:
Xiao Ai: “AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!”
Qin Neijian: “……”
“??”
“!!”
