The Archery Pavilion.
The setting sun cast its last rays over the palace walls. Eunuch Qin stood at the emperor’s back, leading the cluster of attending eunuchs.
The emperor had few hobbies. When his mood was dark, he shot arrows. When his mood was good, he shot arrows too.
Beyond the benefits of keeping fit and the practical uses of the skill, he liked the focus archery demanded. That meditative stillness—it calmed his mind. The sound of the arrow striking the target, the hum of the bowstring’s vibration—those were satisfying, almost musical.
But today, with arrow after arrow loosed, his restlessness only grew. Sweat soaked his inner robes.
It felt like he was losing himself to obsession. Fu Ye’s face floated in his mind, refusing to leave. And the thought—that Fu Ye might be thinking of him in the same way—made his whole body tremble.
So close. I’m only a step away from what I long for.
Eunuch Qin watched from the side, hands tucked into his sleeves. When a man is in love, his whole spirit comes alive. The emperor, though thin and worn, seemed fierce as a dragon, powerful as a tiger—arrow after arrow splitting through the targets.
Qin thought, If only the prince could see His Majesty now.
It was remarkable how love could transform a man. The emperor stood straighter, his whole frame seeming to expand, full of energy he hadn’t had before.
The bowstring pulled taut, then snapped. Thud. The last target fell to the ground.
The emperor stood still in the growing dusk, sweat trickling down his neck, veins standing out. And then he said suddenly, “I’m going to the prince’s residence. Right now.”
Eunuch Qin blinked. “Your Majesty, the palace gates are about to be locked for the night.”
“I said, I’m going,” the emperor repeated.
“Your Majesty,” Qin said gently, “why not wait for daylight? Go openly. After all, His Highness fainted from worry over you—you have every reason to visit him. The Empress Dowager would have nothing to say. And if you start visiting him like before, often and openly, Her Majesty will grow accustomed. People will see that the prince is not at all out of favor.”
The emperor narrowed his eyes. “Who thinks he’s out of favor?”
“Well… it’s been a month since His Highness opened his residence, and Your Majesty hasn’t visited once…”
That, it turned out, lit a fire.
That very night, the emperor ordered treasures hauled out from the storerooms—fine things, heavy with gold and gems, grand gifts fit for the occasion.
When it was time to rest, he asked, “What else could I give him?”
Eunuch Qin, trying to keep from sighing, said, “Well… Your Majesty yourself, perhaps?”
And immediately regretted it when the emperor’s gaze sharpened. “I mean—Your Majesty’s presence! The greatest honor of all!”
But the emperor lay there a while, thoughtful. Then he murmured, “Isn’t this too fast?”
“…What?”
“Ordinary couples don’t rush in like this. There’s supposed to be betrothal letters, formal rites. We’ve only just confessed our feelings. Is it really right?”
Eunuch Qin reminded him, “Your Majesty, you and the prince… aren’t exactly an ordinary couple…”
“I don’t want him thinking I’m just after his beauty.”
“Then maybe His Highness is the one who’s after Your Majesty’s beauty?” Qin ventured.
The emperor turned and looked at him.
“Love makes the beloved seem perfect,” Qin added, grasping at straws. “For all you know, His Highness sees Your Majesty as the most handsome man alive.”
Flattery, Qin knew. The emperor, these days, couldn’t be called handsome—at most, majestic, imposing in his royal dignity.
But love had made His Majesty easier to charm, or maybe he wanted to believe it himself.
“Do you really think so?” the emperor asked, almost wistful.
He truly hoped Fu Ye saw him that way.
And the truth was—Fu Ye did have a bit of a weakness for beauty.
In his heart, Fu Ye was perfect in every way—the most beautiful being in the world. He often had to restrain himself, forcing his gaze away so it wouldn’t linger too long on Fu Ye’s face or figure, for fear of betraying his feelings. In truth, the only time he allowed himself to look freely was when Fu Ye was asleep, bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, and then he would drink in every detail.
What he really wanted was to study him in broad daylight—
to see his face, his hands, his feet,
to see everything about him.
He was certain that every part of Fu Ye was beautiful.
He longed to see it all.
If only Fu Ye could be this obsessed with him.
Not love—obsession.
He wanted Fu Ye to love him with a mad, consuming passion,
a love as sick and twisted as his own,
a love that would bind them together like vines clinging to a tree,
a love so deep it would carry over into their next lives.
But the thought of a next life made him restless again.
He knew without a doubt—he was destined for hell.
Fu Ye, on the other hand, was surely meant to become an immortal;
and if not that, then at least a man of fortune who would never know hardship.
The greed of the human heart—he even wanted to claim Fu Ye in the afterlife.
“Eunuch Qin,” he called.
Seeing the shift in his expression, Qin grew anxious. “Your Majesty, what troubles you?”
Fu Huang said, “Tell me—if I start praying to the gods now, is it too late?”
Qin blinked. “What?”
Fu Huang went on, “That eternal lamp he lit for me—does it even work?”
Bitterness welled up in Qin’s heart, but he said gently, “Your Majesty, on that subject…I’ve spoken with His Highness before.”
Fu Huang looked at him.
Qin continued, “His Highness said: If Your Majesty governs wisely, if the realm prospers under your rule and the land knows peace, that in itself is great virtue. If all the people give thanks for Your Majesty’s brilliance, their prayers will rise from every corner of the land.”
A light flared in Fu Huang’s dark eyes, the candlelight reflected deep within them.
Qin smiled. “This old servant thinks His Highness spoke true.”
It was as if a ray of Buddha’s light shone into the darkness of his heart.
And so he drifted into a beautiful dream.
But sleep eluded him.
Fu Ye was burning up with longing.
Outside the bedcurtains, Shuangfu asked softly, “Your Highness, can’t sleep?”
Truth be told, Shuangfu couldn’t sleep either.
These past two days, he’d been in a constant state of shock.
How he wished Qingxi were here—
but he didn’t dare confide in anyone else.
It was killing him to keep it all bottled up!
Shuangfu said, “Tomorrow you’ll see His Majesty—Your Highness is overjoyed, aren’t you?”
Inside the bed curtains, Fu Ye let out a soft laugh, clutching at his collar, his thoughts scattered and restless. He lifted his sleeve and brought it to his nose again and again.
Fu Huang’s robe was far too loose on him, but even that bitter, lingering scent that clung to it had him utterly entranced.
Ever since he’d put on this robe, he’d felt his body react.
How could Fu Huang be so good at seducing people?
After their feelings had been laid bare, he’d sent him this robe, for him to wear.
Fu Ye thought about how Fu Huang still wasn’t fully recovered. He remembered that deep, heavy cough that had shaken Fu Huang’s chest like a bellows. The next day, he’d seemed much better, and now another day had passed—how was he now?
His mind kept returning to the image of Fu Huang that day—the strange haze in his eyes, the bitter scent of medicine, and that quiet, heavy stillness that seemed to hook into him, stirring his heart without doing a thing.
That day, he had actually wanted to kiss him. He’d kept nuzzling Fu Huang’s cheek.
But then he met those dark, bottomless eyes—and felt too shy to go through with it.
He thought, Fu Huang wasn’t wrong when he said it.
Fu Huang had called him lewd, wanton.
And right now, his mind really was a mess of indecent thoughts.
His hand slid down from his collar to his chest, his palm resting over the faintly raised dragon embroidery.
Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind.
That day when he’d been drunk—Fu Huang had leaned in and breathed warm air against his chest. He hadn’t touched him at all, but that breath alone had made the rosy flush there turn damp.
And then, in front of Fu Huang, it seemed he’d actually reached up and pinched himself.
And he’d done it… rather hard.
He couldn’t even tell if that had really happened, or if it had just been a dream.
Ahhhhhh!
He rolled over, burying himself in Fu Huang’s outer robe.
His whole body felt like it was burning red.
The black robe, embroidered with golden dragons, draped over half of him, spreading across the bed. Under that dark robe, he curled up, while on the shelf nearby a green orchid sat, its leaves so fresh they seemed to glisten.
Before dawn, Eunuch Qin woke in a daze—and was startled to see the Emperor already up.
As always, His Majesty hadn’t slept long. He sat there, cloaked in black robes, reading through memorials by candlelight.
Qin gazed at his face in the soft glow. His profile seemed sharper than ever, his jawline stark and refined. That dark robe draped over his shoulders gave him a quiet, somber air—an air of maturity.
In the blink of an eye, His Majesty was already twenty-six. And he himself was old.
He hoped he could live a few more years—to see His Majesty become the wise and beloved sovereign the world would praise.
He truly believed Fu Huang could do it.
He wanted to hear the voices of the people’s blessings filling the land.
Maybe because he’d just woken up and his mind was still hazy, this thought alone brought a dampness to his eyes.
His Majesty had endured so much. Now, at last, good days were ahead.
Fu Huang noticed he’d woken. “Summon the imperial physicians.”
Qin immediately asked, “Your Majesty, are you feeling unwell?”
“Tell them to check how my illness is progressing.”
Qin hurried off to call the physicians.
As usual, they took His Majesty’s pulse.
Fu Huang asked, “My chest still feels tight at times. Is the cough not gone yet?”
“Your Majesty’s last cold damaged your lungs. To fully recover, it will take time and careful care.”
Fu Huang fell silent for a moment, then asked sternly, “Is it still contagious?”
The physician looked up, startled. “Pardon?”
Fu Huang said, “I’m asking you—if I’m close with someone, would they catch it from me?”
He added, “If the other person’s constitution is a bit weak as well?”
At that, Eunuch Qin coughed twice, sharply, and lowered his head.
The imperial physician hesitated. “That… that’s hard to say, Your Majesty.”
It really… depended on how intimate, didn’t it?
Fu Huang’s expression darkened. “You may go.”
The physician retreated, trembling.
Was the Emperor planning to take a consort?!
Intimacy… They didn’t even dare imagine what “intimacy” would look like with the Emperor as he was now!
Once the physician was gone, Fu Huang rose and said, “Bring my robes.”
Eunuch Qin didn’t dare ask anything more. He only said, “Your Majesty, this old servant has attended you all these years, and I’ve never fallen ill.”
The Emperor didn’t answer. He just glanced at him, his lips pressed into an even tighter line.
Fu Huang felt an overwhelming urge to announce it to the world.
After all these years, dark and still like a stagnant pool, now he wanted to burst into bloom, burn like a blazing fire, to make up for it all.
He couldn’t let the world know the truth of what he and Fu Ye were to each other—
but he could let the world know that Fu Ye was his one and only, his greatest love.
No one before, no one after. He wanted to make Fu Ye’s head spin, make him dizzy with it.
A carpet of embroidered flowers was laid out from the Heavenly Gate all the way to the gates of the Prince of Huan’s residence. The imperial guards in golden armor poured forth in full force. The Emperor hadn’t even left his palace yet, and already the whole capital was abuzz.
“The Emperor’s been on the throne this long, and this is the first time he’s visited a subject’s home!”
“The Prince of Huan truly has the Emperor’s favor!”
“People keep forgetting—His Highness is His Majesty’s own brother. Blood is thicker than water. If the Emperor really hated him, he’d have had him executed long ago! Would he be keeping him in the capital in honor and comfort otherwise?”
“This visit just slapped the faces of everyone who doubted His Highness still held the Emperor’s regard!”
“Who would’ve thought? The Emperor, of all people—he’s always been called—well, you know what!”
A demon. An executioner. A madman. A tyrant who slaughtered his own brothers.
“I heard ever since the Prince of Huan came back, the Emperor’s changed a lot!”
“Exactly. Didn’t His Majesty even go to the Buddhist forest to pray? I heard he dedicated an eternal lamp!”
“They say the Prince of Huan cured His Majesty’s headaches.”
“Back in the day, the Emperor was as brilliant and elegant as they come—bearing the grace of a true dragon.”
“Our Emperor back then was every bit as impressive as that Yellow Tianyi everyone keeps talking about now!”
“Ha, don’t get me started. I know best—back then, His Majesty was the man every noble maiden dreamed of! That Yellow Tianyi? Word is he’s nothing to look at. Even now, with the Emperor pale and sickly, he’s a hundred times the man!”
“May His Majesty regain his strength soon. If Daliang dares set foot on our soil, let him crush them completely!”
“The stargazers at Zhaixing Pavilion say the Prince of Huan is our dynasty’s great lucky star!”
“His Majesty is mighty, His Highness is virtuous—together, no force can stand against them!”
Dawn was barely breaking, but the Prince of Huan’s residence was already bustling with preparations.
The Emperor himself was coming—this was no ordinary day!
The entire Prince of Huan’s residence was in utter chaos, with people running every which way.
Steward Jin exclaimed, “This—this is far too rushed! If His Majesty planned to come, he should’ve given us at least half a month’s notice. There’s no time to procure everything we need—we’ll have to make do with what we have. We’re falling short of the imperial grace!”
And this time, the scale of the Emperor’s visit was simply overwhelming.
Jin had been in the capital for many years, and it wasn’t as if he’d never seen nobles receive the Emperor before. Back in the day, Emperor Wuzong had loved visiting his ministers’ homes.
Wuzong was lavish enough as it was, but even he rarely put on something this grand.
It felt like His Majesty was throwing out all the pomp and pageantry he’d saved up over these years in one go.
And yet, it was exhilarating.
In the imperial family, extravagance wasn’t just about looking impressive—it was about projecting power and strength. In the eyes of the common folk, such spectacle was a symbol of imperial might and national prosperity. These past few years, rumors about His Majesty had spread like wildfire: that he was gravely ill, his mind no longer clear; that without consorts or heirs, the royal family seemed withered and in decline. A ruler unwell meant a nation in peril—and with neighboring Daliang at the height of its power, the capital was rife with whispers that Great Zhou’s days were numbered.
But today—His Majesty left the palace in magnificent splendor. The spectacle alone lifted hearts across the city!
Crowds packed the streets to catch a glimpse of the Emperor’s procession to the Prince of Huan’s residence. Every street in the area was already packed to bursting.
In Cien Palace, the female official was reporting the details of the Emperor’s procession to the Empress Dowager.
“Ninety-nine snow-white lion stallions leading the way, golden-armored guards with coiled-dragon, red-tasseled gilded spears, and the lavish Vermilion Bird carriage that Emperor Wuzong once had crafted for himself.
“And His Majesty has specially bestowed upon the Prince of Huan an eleven-beaded white jade crown to receive him…”
A crown of nine beads was the privilege of a prince—eleven beads was the honor of a crown prince.
“Could His Majesty be about to name him heir apparent?” Eunuch Sun asked, voice trembling.
The Empress Dowager didn’t dare reply.
Hope and anxiety warred within her. She was afraid that if she spoke out, it might disrupt whatever plan Fu Ye had for becoming crown prince. And yet, seeing Fu Ye now, showered with such burning, overwhelming favor—how could one not feel uneasy?
The Empress Dowager immediately went to the Buddha Hall to chant and pray with the two elderly imperial consorts.
If the Emperor could truly show brotherly love and harmony, and one day let Fu Ye inherit the throne—then these stormy years would, at last, have passed safely.
Fu Ye truly was the savior of Great Zhou.
In Qingyuan Palace, Eunuch Qin helped the Emperor don his golden crown.
Fu Huang grumbled, “What a bother.”
Eunuch Qin smiled. “A Buddha needs a golden statue, and a man needs fine robes. Would this old servant ever lead Your Majesty astray? Today, Your Majesty looks especially radiant—this crown only makes you appear more regal and magnificent.”
Fu Huang let him be.
He glanced at himself in the bronze mirror.
The man reflected there was gaunt, but the golden crown and splendid robes did lend him an air of awe.
It wasn’t the first time he was going to see Fu Ye, but somehow this time made his heart restless.
Dressed like this, it felt almost as if he were going to propose marriage.
And wouldn’t that be good—if he could truly wed him? Bow to Heaven and Earth, and become his rightful husband.
At dawn’s first light, the Emperor departed from Qingyuan Palace.
The entire main street was lined with golden-armored guards. Fu Huang rode through the city in the Vermilion Bird carriage, banners embroidered with sun, moon, and stars snapping in the wind. The grand canopy above his carriage was adorned with twelve strands of bells and jeweled ornaments that chimed softly. Around him, countless palace maids and eunuchs in splendid dress formed a dazzling escort. Even Qin, riding alongside on horseback, felt his heart stir.
At last, this was the majesty and might that befitted an Emperor!
Fu Ye led everyone from the residence to stand before the gates.
He was dressed in a crimson python-embroidered robe, with an eleven-beaded crown upon his head. Outside the gates, a dense crowd had gathered to watch. The golden-armored guards had long since arrived to keep order. The ground was blanketed with red carpets and fresh flowers. In that moment, it almost felt like… he was at his own wedding.
No wonder, he thought, some grooms get choked up at their weddings.
To welcome the one you love most—it truly stirs the heart.
This feeling was nothing like the moment, two days ago, when they’d poured their hearts out to each other.
Back then, there’d been bitterness, astringency. Now, all that remained was eager anticipation, excitement.
A single day apart felt like three autumns—he finally understood what that meant.
He hadn’t slept well these past two nights.
He wondered how Fu Huang was faring.
After a little while, the sound of ceremonial music filled the air. Instantly, all around him fell silent, not a sound from the vast crowd. The music mingled with the soft chime of imperial bells. To Fu Ye’s ears, it was heavenly.
His Majesty had arrived.
Twelve palace maids in embroidered slippers walked in graceful procession, each bearing incense. Behind them came twenty-eight strong men in red, carrying the Vermilion Bird carriage, its yellow silk canopy hung with jeweled tassels and bells that swayed and tinkled with each step. Wherever they passed, the people knelt as one, voices rising in a cry of “Long live the Emperor!”
And then he saw Fu Huang atop that Vermilion Bird carriage.
The most exalted man in the realm—clad in a dark robe embroidered with golden dragons, wearing a crown of golden filigree—and at that moment, all of it was for him.
Xiao Ai muttered in his mind: “Damn, having an emperor as your boyfriend really is next level.”
Fu Ye tilted his head, gazing up at Fu Huang. Whether it was the heat of longing after two days apart, or his own sleeplessness, he couldn’t say. But in the bright sunlight, looking at this man—this sovereign above all, wrapped in banners of sun, moon, and stars, sheltered beneath a canopy of pure gold—he felt almost dizzy at how noble, how breathtaking he was.
He truly was…
irresistibly noble.
Their eyes met, and in that instant, Fu Ye’s heart burst into flame.
Before the eyes of thousands, amidst a love unmatched in all the world, wrapped in an emperor’s private devotion—
He took two quick steps forward and bowed low. “Elder Brother.”
He was just about to kneel in full formality when Eunuch Qin hurried forward and caught him.
“His Majesty said, His Highness need only observe customary courtesy.”
So Fu Ye straightened, stepped closer, and reached out his hand to Fu Huang.
Even that stately crown of eleven jade beads couldn’t overshadow the Prince of Huan’s beauty.
In that moment, it was as if every flower’s brilliance draped over him. He gleamed, radiant as never before. But Fu Huang’s gaze was fixed only on the dark circles under his eyes.
Fu Huang stepped down from the carriage. And before the gaze of the crowd, he took Fu Ye’s hand directly and led him inside.
His hand was rough with calluses, thin and bony, dry to the touch. Between his fingers were blood-worn marks from drawing a bow. As he walked ahead, tall and slender, his layered robes so wide they nearly blocked out the sunlight.
Fu Ye adored him like this—proper, dignified, imperial. Rarely did he wear the golden crown, the stiff gold collar high at his throat, circling that prominent Adam’s apple, giving him a look of lean, bitter resolve.
Fu Ye followed him across the peony-strewn carpet. The black hem of Fu Huang’s robe brushed against the crimson of his own. Beneath his white collar, hidden from all eyes, he wore Fu Huang’s intimate inner garment.
To him, Fu Huang seemed particularly… delicious today.
And oh, how he wanted to secretly devour him.
This dark, solemn, immaculate emperor, bowed to by all—
he ought to be quietly, secretly, devoured.
