At Prince Huan’s residence, dusk had fallen. A few maids were lighting lanterns shaped like little birds as they moved through the courtyard.
Since His Majesty had visited the prince’s estate today, the steward had issued new clothes for them. The maids had all brought out their finest jewelry from the bottom of their chests, each one dressed more beautifully than the next. Now, in twos and threes, they lit lanterns from the front courtyard to the back, filling the entire residence with soft light.
Prince Huan loved beauty—he adored all things lovely and took great pleasure in flowers. He had even hosted nighttime banquets where guests would admire the blossoms by lantern light. So within the gardens, countless small lanterns glowed among the blooms, like fireflies scattered among the flowers. It was breathtaking.
The maids giggled and chatted as they lit the lamps.
There was always a joyful atmosphere at the prince’s residence.
Tonight, they were gossiping about the Emperor.
“His Majesty looks so kind, doesn’t he?”
“He really does! My mother came to get the gold leaf earlier, and I told her the Emperor looked so young and gentle—she didn’t believe me!”
“Well, maybe not exactly gentle, but he’s not at all how I imagined him!”
“Last night you were crying that you’d fake being sick—you were so afraid you’d lose your life! If I hadn’t talked you out of it, where would you have gotten today’s gold leaf, huh?”
“His Majesty’s so generous. If only he’d visit a few more times!”
“Once you get a gold leaf, I bet you’d think His Majesty was handsome no matter what.”
The girls burst out laughing again.
Shuangfu poked his head out from the rear building and called down softly, “Sisters, keep it down!”
The girls looked up at him and asked, “What is it, Brother Shuangfu?”
He just shook his head and motioned for quiet.
So they fell silent and glanced up at the rear building, where faint firelight glowed through the carved windows.
That rear building had twenty-four windows, and now, in the soft night, those windows shone like twenty-four golden blossoms, reflecting the garden’s sea of flowers.
The whole place looked like a palace where immortals lived.
But the immortal inside—since His Majesty had left—had gone upstairs and hadn’t come out since.
Shuangfu pushed the door open and peered around the screen. Through the gauze canopy embroidered with treasures and flowers, he could see Fu Ye lying on the bed with his back turned, his slender figure curled in on itself, his outline thin and fragile.
He’d already asked what was wrong.
The prince had only said he wanted to be alone for a while.
His lips still felt numb.
That strange heat that had been forced into him—that bitter with a faint trace of sweetness, hard to describe—still lingered. Back then, with his jaw pinned in place, he could only lie there, enduring that long, endless invasion and exchange.
It had been just a kiss.
He couldn’t even say whether it left him afraid or thrilled, comforted or overwhelmed. But the memory of being conquered like that made him shiver even now.
His whole body was damp with a feverish sweat. He felt dazed, as if his very soul had been scattered.
Fu Huang wasn’t here—but it felt as if he was everywhere.
“Your Highness,” Shuangfu called softly, pushing the door open again.
Fu Ye said, “I’ll skip dinner tonight. You go rest too. I won’t be bathing today either.”
He really should bathe.
But…
Then Shuangfu said, “Your Highness, someone’s here from the palace.”
Fu Ye immediately sat up. The glow of fine coral and jade beads on the screen shimmered faintly as he asked, a bit nervous, “…Who?”
“Two imperial physicians.”
Fu Ye: “…”
Of course he knew why they’d been sent.
His face reddened. After a moment, he rose, changed into a clean outer robe, and went out to receive them.
The physicians looked at him, clearly anxious. “Your Highness, are you alright? When we were ordered to come check on you, we were scared out of our wits!”
But under the lamplight, the prince’s complexion was flushed and radiant—even more beautiful than when they’d seen him the other day. He actually looked healthier than before.
“I’m fine. When you return, tell my royal brother… I’m not that delicate.”
But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized—no good. Saying that might just encourage Fu Huang to go even further next time.
His face grew even redder. He instructed Chief Steward Jin, “See that the two imperial physicians are well taken care of tonight. Send them back to the palace properly at first light.”
But since the doctors had come by imperial command, they still insisted on checking his pulse.
“Your Highness has a bit of excess internal heat, unsettled emotions. You’ll need to rest well and keep calm,” one of them advised gently.
Fu Ye saw them writing something down and asked, “What’s that?”
“The Emperor ordered us to report back after checking Your Highness’s pulse.”
“The messenger eunuch is waiting just outside to carry the message back.”
The thought that Fu Huang would soon know just how flustered he was made his face burn all the hotter.
Over in Qingyuan Palace, Eunuch Qin served the Emperor his supper and medicine.
Joy brought vigor—the Emperor had eaten heartily tonight.
“Your Majesty, there’s still the tonic soup…”
“Forget it tonight.” The Emperor rinsed his mouth and said, “Has Zhang Rusong’s military report arrived?”
Qin immediately pulled the report from among the stacks of memorials.
The Emperor began working.
It had only been a few hours, yet Qin felt that the Emperor’s whole bearing had changed. His features seemed sharper, his presence more commanding.
Truly, a man grows faster when he’s been through something.
Now, His Majesty seemed to radiate strength and authority.
Fu Huang read through the report, gave his instructions, and told Qin to have it sent out of the palace at once.
But tonight, no matter what he did, he couldn’t fully calm down.
It had been his first time kissing someone like that.
Now he understood why Fu Ye had said such things could bring joy.
He liked the way Fu Ye had trembled beneath him, powerless to resist.
He liked that closeness—the thrill of conquest that came with it. That feeling of being able to do as he pleased with him.
And so, from the moment he left the prince’s residence, to returning to the palace, to sitting here reviewing memorials, even though his mind had cleared of impure thoughts, his body still hummed with a faint, lingering excitement.
Before long, a message arrived from the prince’s residence.
Fu Huang glanced at the note the physicians had written, and again that image flashed in his mind: Fu Ye, his ears red down to his neck, so bashful and pure.
His brow gave a faint twitch.
Yes—Fu Ye must have liked it.
Whatever he did to him, Fu Ye would probably like it. He loved him deeply.
Fu Ye treated him with endless gentle tolerance. All that clever wit and effortless charm—that was for others, for who he had been in the past.
Now, before him, Fu Ye was so obedient.
Fu Ye must like a man who takes charge.
Fu Huang did love him—but that love was tangled up with selfish desire, tinged with violence, like a storm that had nowhere to break, leaving him restless and aching. His feelings were sincere, but the intensity of his wanting was far greater than most. He wanted to be Fu Ye’s one and only, to have Fu Ye see no one but him, love him with an all-consuming passion. And so, his love always carried with it the scent of death.
That was why he wasn’t as pure as Fu Ye. His love came with schemes and hunger. Even as he lay alone on his bed later that night, he turned over the fingers that had touched Fu Ye’s lips, studying him, savoring him in his mind.
Fu Huang, worried he might have actually passed his illness on to Fu Ye, sent Eunuch Qin to the prince’s residence again early the next morning.
The two imperial physicians soon returned to the palace and reported in person: “Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince is in excellent health—only a bit tired from a restless night’s sleep.”
Fu Huang then had them come over and check his own pulse.
The physicians felt it carefully. His Majesty’s pulse was much the same as before.
If there was any slight change, it was perhaps a bit like the prince’s—a touch of excessive internal heat.
The night before, Fu Ye hadn’t eaten supper, nor had he bathed. He’d simply lain there until morning, when he finally got up to bathe and change.
After several nights of poor sleep, he was so drowsy during his lessons that it felt as if Fu Huang had sucked the very life out of him.
He half-believed he really had caught some illness from Fu Huang. Otherwise, why did it feel like he was walking on cotton all day?
He’d thought he could breathe life into Fu Huang—he had clearly overestimated himself.
Fu Huang really was a demon!
He couldn’t let himself be this fragile.
So at lunch, he promptly ate an extra bowl of rice.
That afternoon, after he saw his tutor off, Steward Jin had the carriage ready. “Your Highness, the ceremonial note has been delivered. We can depart for the palace whenever you’re ready.”
Before he even boarded the carriage, Fu Ye’s heart was pounding as if it would leap out of his chest.
Not even when he’d once confessed his feelings to Fu Huang had he been this nervous.
He bathed again, changed clothes, burned incense, and dressed in his own proper robes before getting into the carriage.
For the first time, he truly felt like he was willingly stepping into the lion’s den.
He didn’t dare let his mind wander too far.
Sitting in the carriage, his heart beat faster with each palace gate they passed. Memories he’d tried to forget came flooding back.
He thought to himself: Fu Huang had kissed him far too fiercely.
And before he even reached Qingyuan Palace, his inner robes were already damp.
The heat of the afternoon sun—still burning at four or five o’clock—seemed to scorch him. Even the red palace walls felt blinding and stifling.
This visit was, on the surface, an entirely proper one—to give thanks for the Emperor’s grace. The Empress Dowager, of course, was aware.
Fu Ye felt even more guilty toward her, so this time he had brought a great many fresh flowers from the prince’s estate as a tribute.
The palace didn’t lack for flowers, just as it never lacked for the vegetables she’d gifted him before. These flowers were simply a show of his filial devotion.
The Empress Dowager had been in the temple for days, chanting sutras. When she saw him arrive, she had him personally place the flowers before the Buddha, and then asked him to offer prayers there.
Fu Ye thought: his mind was in such turmoil these days. To come before the gods and Buddha in this state, so full of improper thoughts, made him feel truly ashamed. He reverently placed the flowers at the altar, then stayed to quietly recite scriptures for a while.
That really did help him quiet his mind quite a bit.
The Empress Dowager asked, “Yesterday, His Majesty gifted you an eleven-tassel jade crown when he arrived?”
Fu Ye nodded, feeling rather guilty.
The Empress Dowager’s expression was eager but cautious. She pressed, “Did he say anything to you? For instance, about naming you Crown Younger Brother?”
Fu Ye was startled and quickly shook his head.
He wouldn’t even dare think of such a thing. He already felt like he’d struck gold just being allowed to be a prince.
Besides, Fu Huang was only in his early twenties—what nonsense was this about a Crown Younger Brother?
The Empress Dowager prayed every day—was she secretly hoping Fu Huang would keel over early so Fu Ye could take the throne?
The thought sent him scrambling to bow again before the Buddha.
If the Buddha had any divine power, he prayed, please let Fu Huang live a long, long life, keep the empire strong forever, and leave a glorious legacy in history!
He was certain his wish was more sincere than the Empress Dowager’s.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt one bow wasn’t enough.
The Empress Dowager prayed daily, probably not just for herself either. If he wanted to balance things out, he’d have to pray daily too.
There was a small shrine in the back building where he lived—he’d start praying there from now on.
Better safe than sorry!
Leaving the Cien Palace, he couldn’t help thinking how wonderfully kind he was to Fu Huang.
If Fu Huang knew, surely he’d treat him a little more gently.
He was new to all this!
Come to think of it, Fu Huang was new to it too—so how had he kissed like that?
A breeze swept by, blowing away even the scent of sandalwood from the shrine that clung to him.
Just then, Qin the eunuch came in to report: “Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince is nearly at the palace gates.”
Fu Huang said, “Have him come to the West Annex.”
Not directly to the Spring Morning Hall for a tender moment?
The West Annex meant business.
But then, that made sense. Yesterday had been too rough. Today, Fu Huang must be planning to take it down a notch.
Qin hurried out to greet Fu Ye.
Fu Ye had come straight from the Empress Dowager’s palace, bringing only Shuangfu, his round little eunuch, along. Dressed in crimson, Fu Ye was slender and tall, and next to him, Shuangfu’s plump figure in his blue uniform made the pair look all the more endearing.
Seeing them would lift anyone’s mood.
Except right now, Fu Ye was clearly a little shy. “Eunuch Qin.”
The prince seemed so much more reserved now.
All thanks to the emperor’s bullying.
“Your Highness,” Qin said cheerfully, “His Majesty is waiting for you in the West Annex.”
Fu Ye followed him toward the West Annex. As they reached the entrance, he hesitated for a moment.
Qin went in first to announce him. A moment later, Fu Ye heard Fu Huang’s voice from inside: “Come in.”
Qin lifted the curtain and turned back to look at him.
As soon as Fu Ye stepped inside, before he could say a word or even look around, his face flushed red.
There was just no controlling it.
He had never been this shy in his life.
It was probably because he’d just had his first real kiss—he was at that stage where everything felt impossibly tender and new.
They always said first love was the most beautiful. This must’ve been why.
His heart had just started to awaken to love, and even someone like him—usually so bold and unrestrained—suddenly felt impossibly pure.
Then he heard Fu Huang’s voice:
“Look at you—are you dazed from the kiss, or scared stiff by it?”
Fu Ye thought, Can’t it be both?
He lifted his gaze and saw Fu Huang seated on the couch, a memorial in his hand.
It felt different now.
Looking at Fu Huang, he saw someone different.
Because this was someone who had kissed him. That made him different.
Every stage of love felt new. He was standing on the shore of love’s river, and now the water had already soaked him to the ankles.
But Fu Huang didn’t rush over to pull him close or do anything else.
Instead, he handed him a memorial to review.
“Didn’t your handwriting improve quite a bit?” Fu Huang said.
Fu Ye went over, slipped off his boots, and sat across from Fu Huang at the small table. The weather was warm, and Fu Huang had bare feet, but Fu Ye still wore his silk socks, embroidered with orchids in gold thread.
Fu Huang passed him the imperial brush.
So Fu Ye took the memorial and began to read.
At the moment, no one else was in the hall—not even Qin the eunuch.
The West Annex felt entirely like a scholar’s study now. It was a serious setting. With a memorial in hand and state affairs before him, his embarrassment began to ease.
Fu Ye thought to himself, Fu Huang really is a gentleman.
His feelings were true.
But underneath that gentlemanly exterior was a bit of an obsessive streak. Fu Ye had a hunch that Fu Huang’s style in bed would be… commanding.
Such contradictions.
Such—
The imperial study was utterly quiet. By evening, the West Annex grew hotter, but not so much that they needed ice. After reviewing dozens of memorials, Fu Huang saw that dusk was about to fall.
Since Fu Huang hadn’t said anything, Fu Ye just kept reading.
But as night descended, his heart started to race again.
He really should’ve stood up and taken his leave.
He had come today in broad daylight to formally offer thanks—it would be best to leave before the palace gates were locked.
He ought to go. And truthfully, deep down, he wasn’t the kind of man to just quietly submit—he wanted to tease Fu Huang a little.
But maybe because yesterday Fu Huang had managed to conquer him halfway with just a kiss, in the end Fu Ye stayed quiet.
And so night fell.
Qin the eunuch came in and lit the lamps.
Fu Huang said, “Have supper prepared.”
Qin answered and went to make arrangements.
Only then did Fu Huang sit up straighter, and together they stacked up the memorials, handing them to the eunuchs to carry out.
Fu Huang asked him, “How are you feeling?”
Fu Ye nodded.
“Do you feel like coughing?”
Fu Ye shook his head.
Fu Huang said, “Then it seems I really didn’t pass my illness to you.”
Fu Huang crooked his finger at him. “Come here.”
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes!
Fu Ye knew it!
Face flushed, he walked over.
Fu Huang pulled him onto his lap and wrapped him in his arms.
And that was all it took—Fu Ye couldn’t hold back. He threw his arms around Fu Huang’s neck.
Am I being too forward? he wondered. Yesterday I was so rattled I felt like I’d lost half my soul. And today, I’m not even pretending to be reserved.
But he really did like Fu Huang so, so much.
“The imperial physicians said you didn’t sleep well last night?”
Fu Ye gave a soft “Mm.”
“What were you thinking about all night?”
Fu Ye didn’t answer. He was too embarrassed.
Fu Huang cupped his chin. “Usually so sharp-tongued and fearless—why so quiet all of a sudden?”
Because… because he praised him for being good.
Fu Ye tried to get up from his lap, just too flustered to stay like that.
But Fu Huang caught him, and kissed him—fiercely.
It was deep again, their breaths mingling, the lingering heat of summer seeming to gather between their bodies.
Fu Huang was so dominant. When he kissed him, he liked to stay on top, one hand gripping Fu Ye’s neck, forcing him to tilt his head back like an offering. His other hand lifted him up completely so his whole body was draped across him.
It was just a kiss.
But Fu Ye couldn’t stop trembling. His scalp tingled again. All he could feel was this overwhelming mix of discomfort that made him shiver, and a strange, undeniable pleasure. He just couldn’t handle it—felt as if Fu Huang had poured some wild energy into him, and it was surging through his veins.
Only after a long while did Fu Huang finally let him go, staring at him intently. That gaze—so focused, so dark—it felt like it could pull him in and swallow him whole.
Fu Ye thought that look was completely unfair. Before he knew it, he’d clung to Fu Huang’s neck, his eyes stinging like he might cry.
He really did like Fu Huang like this. So much.
He’d always thought men like Fu Huang—so cold and shadowed—wouldn’t know the first thing about tenderness.
Fu Huang’s skin felt hot to the touch, with a certain dryness—probably because he still wasn’t fully well. But Fu Ye’s skin was soft and smooth, delicate and flawless, and Fu Huang loved it. He wanted to strip him bare just to admire it properly. He brushed kisses along Fu Ye’s neck, breathing in the scent of his hair.
His hair was exquisite. When it was tied up, his swan-like neck was beautiful, but you couldn’t truly appreciate the beauty of the hair itself. So Fu Huang reached up, pulled out his hairpin, and let it tumble down.
It flowed like clouds of ink, shining like the richest silk brocade.
Fu Ye couldn’t hold himself back anymore. This time, he was the one who moved first, climbing onto Fu Huang’s lap and leaning down to kiss him.
And no matter how much he kissed him, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. He’d heard before about lovers who could kiss for hours, for an entire night, and always thought that sounded ridiculous.
But now, here he was, and he understood.
His thick hair fell forward, blocking out the candlelight. Trapped in the darkness, Fu Huang closed his eyes, the muscles of his waist and abdomen drawn tight like a bow. The way they were tangled together reminded him of a dream he’d once had.
And just like that, everything fell apart.
Fu Ye gasped softly, and the small table on the kang was kicked over, falling to the floor with a loud clang. Outside, the eunuchs heard the noise and one of them hurried inside. But the moment he caught sight of the emperor pressing the prince beneath him, he froze, face turning pale, then flushing crimson, and backed right out again.
Outside, the servants carrying the food trays filed instead into the Spring Morning Hall across the courtyard. Qin the eunuch crossed the yard and spotted Shuangfu crouched down, covering his mouth, eyes wide with shock.
“What’s gotten into you?” Qin scolded in a low voice. “You’re acting more and more out of line.”
Shuangfu scrambled over and whispered nervously, “The emperor… he’s bullying the prince…”
He even heard the prince crying.
Qin’s face turned red. “The emperor’s not bullying him. The emperor’s… showing his affection. You don’t understand, so stop saying nonsense.”
Then he straightened his face and warned, “This is something no one can know about. Not a soul—not even anyone back at the prince’s manor. Understand?”
Shuangfu nodded quickly. “I’m not stupid!”
Really? Qin thought. He didn’t look all that clever just now.
Then Shuangfu asked, “When’s Qingxi coming back?”
Qin narrowed his eyes. “Missing him already, are you?”
“I’m about to explode. I just want someone to talk to. If Qingxi finds out, I bet he’ll be scared out of his wits!”
Qin glared at him. “Didn’t I just tell you? Not a word to anyone.”
“But Qingxi doesn’t count, right? He’s your apprentice…”
“No one counts. Not a word. If even the slightest hint of this gets out, I’ll be the first to kill you to shut you up.”
Shuangfu froze. Well, guess I’ll never be happy again…
After a while, the emperor and prince came out.
The prince’s robes were in disarray, his hair loose and flowing.
But gods, he was beautiful like that.
He was already born stunningly gorgeous, and with his hair down he was even more breathtaking—his face small and pale, his figure slender, and that hair of his looked even darker, thicker, like ink. The emperor held his hand as they walked past, and the breeze lifted the prince’s hair, carrying his scent with it.
He was like a rose blooming in the night—soft, fragrant, and impossibly lovely.
The evening meal was already laid out in the Spring Morning Hall.
Fu Huang still didn’t eat much—he mainly took his medicine. Fu Ye, too, barely ate tonight.
Qin the eunuch asked, “Your Highness, was the food not to your liking?”
Fu Ye replied, “It’s just too hot these days. I can’t eat that much.”
So Qin had a plate of cherries, chilled in cool water, brought over. “Then perhaps Your Highness will try some of these.”
The jade dish held a heap of bright red cherries, glistening with moisture.
It was the very end of cherry season.
But Fu Ye seemed to have lost his taste for them. He tried one or two, then left the rest for the emperor.
Qin said, “Does Your Majesty like these? Cherries are at their juiciest and sweetest this time of year.”
The emperor said simply, “I do.”
But Fu Ye had already turned to gaze out the window, motioning for Shuangfu to come and fasten up his hair.
In the fading light, his side profile was delicate and lovely, and even his ears were flushed red.
After the meal, sure enough, someone arrived from the Cien Palace—ostensibly to check on the emperor, but really to see if the prince had left yet.
Everyone understood the real reason without a word needing to be said.
Of course, Fu Ye had to leave. Fu Huang was busy with state affairs, and Fu Ye himself had school the next day.
A lady from the Cien Palace personally escorted Fu Ye to his carriage. Fu Ye bowed low. “I take my leave, Your Majesty’s humble brother departs.”
In the darkness, Fu Huang watched him with quiet intensity. Now that Fu Ye’s hair was neatly pinned, beneath the collar that kept his posture so proper was a faint mark—the imprint of Fu Huang’s teeth. Beneath his robes, his body was wrapped in aches left by the emperor’s passion.
Once Fu Ye was inside the carriage and the curtain fell, he slumped back, as if all his strength had drained away. Shuangfu didn’t dare speak, head bowed as he sat across from him. He saw Fu Ye clutching at his collar, looking just as dazed and lost as the night before.
Shuangfu thought to himself—he’d seen plays where they spoke of lovers’ joy, how sweet it was when two hearts met. That made sense; if they were truly in love, it ought to feel joyful. So why did the prince always seem so absent-minded afterward?
He couldn’t help but wonder: were the prince and emperor truly in love? Or was this just the favor of a ruler, where the subject had no choice but to accept?
Sigh. If only Qingxi were here.
The carriage rolled on through the night, passing out of the palace gates. The main street was already lit with rows of lanterns. Beyond the main avenue, they passed a vendor under a hanging lamp, selling cherries.
Shuangfu asked, “Your Highness, since His Majesty likes them, should we buy some to bring him tomorrow?”
“No!” Fu Ye’s answer came sharp and quick.
Shuangfu jumped, startled. The prince sounded almost angry.
“Oh… all right.”
Fu Ye added, “I’m not going into the palace tomorrow.”
His chest hurt. He needed to rest.
Just then, the steady thump of drums reached them—faint at first, coming from far off, but clear in the quiet night. Fu Ye lifted the curtain to look out. The sound of those drums was like a dragon winding through the darkness, invisible to the eye but easy to feel, coiling across the heavens and flowing straight into the palace.
