In ancient times, drums were used both to send messages and to mark the hours.
Along the main thoroughfare of Jiantai City, there was a watchtower every five hundred paces. Among them were six larger towers, each fitted with a main drum several meters in diameter and twenty-four accompanying smaller drums. Normally, these would sound in coordination with the Drum Tower of the imperial city to keep time.
As critical tools for conveying information and reporting the hour, the timing and manner of striking these drums followed strict regulations. For instance, at dawn during the fifth watch, the order was to strike the drum first, then ring the bell. The drumbeats followed the pattern: “eighteen fast, eighteen slow, eighteen steady,” repeated twice, totaling 108 beats. And each night from the first to the fifth watch, the drums would sound once per watch to announce the time. On special occasions or festivals, drums and bells would ring out together in grand harmony.
But tonight’s drumbeats were nothing like the usual timekeeping.
The rhythm wasn’t the same—not so measured, not so sparse.
These drumbeats boomed steadily, coming from afar, rolling toward the palace. One round ended, and another began, over and over again. It felt more like a signal—a message passed urgently from one tower to the next.
The sound had clearly startled many. Even Shuangfu’s expression changed. He craned his neck to peer outside, then urged the driver anxiously, “Hurry, drive faster!”
Fu Ye asked quickly, “What’s happening?”
He saw that even the faces of the common folk outside showed signs of unease, some even of fear.
Shuangfu said in a low voice, “Something major, I think. I remember when I was little—when the Hu barbarians invaded from the south, this was how the drums sounded in the night!”
When they reached the prince’s residence, the steward Jin and the household guards were already gathered at the gate, waiting anxiously.
The carriage rolled into the courtyard at once. Fu Ye stepped down and asked, “Do you know what’s happened?”
Jin looked flustered. “It’s the alarm drums, Your Highness.”
“Alarm drums?”
Jin’s face paled. “By our laws, if war breaks out, the alarm drums sound through the capital. But I don’t know the details yet. Allow me to go and inquire!”
Without waiting, he rushed off into the night.
Within the estate, twelve gold-armored guards—the elite soldiers Fu Huang had left to protect Fu Ye before departing—moved deeper into the residence to secure the inner quarters.
Outside, though, the city seemed to fall eerily quiet again.
Before long, Jin came running back. “Your Highness, news just came: the army of Great Liang has launched a surprise attack on Zouzhou!”
Fu Ye’s heart lurched.
Xiao Ai whispered, “Holy crap.”
Fu Ye pressed her, “Wasn’t it supposed to be several more years before Great Liang attacks? Wasn’t the main character supposed to wait until our country was weakened by disaster before making his move?”
Xiao Ai sounded troubled. “Maybe… maybe the story’s changed?”
In the original tale, Fu Huang had become so hated, so half-mad, that the main character swept through the land like a blade through silk, marching all the way to Jiantai City for the final clash of kings.
But now? Even weakened, Great Zhou was still one of the mightiest nations under heaven. Did the main character really dare strike so soon?
“Maybe he’s set his sights higher,” Xiao Ai reasoned. “Trying to seize the moment and unite the world in one stroke. After all, in the original, he was always that ambitious—always aiming to be the supreme ruler.”
She tried to soothe him. “But don’t panic yet. If the plot has changed, maybe that’s good. Honestly, seeing you so happy lately, I kept worrying—what if the ending stayed the same? The main character always dreamed of unifying the world. The two kingdoms were bound to clash someday. Now that everything’s shifted, maybe the end will shift too. Maybe Fu Huang won’t have to die after all. And isn’t Fu Huang a brilliant commander? When it comes down to it, who’s to say who’ll win?”
“Fu Huang hasn’t been to war in so long,” Fu Ye muttered. “And that Huang Tianyi—he’s supposed to be the Chosen One, blessed with ridiculous luck.”
In the original, that Huang Tianyi practically had cheat codes. Whether it was bandit heroes or noble strategists, they’d all mysteriously fall at his feet. He had no shortage of powerful in-laws either—married several stunningly beautiful women, all from families that gave him enormous support. He had a natural talent for war, always pulling off some brilliant ambush or outnumbered victory—repeating the same miraculous ploy over and over through hundreds of thousands of words.
Xiao Ai said, “Don’t worry yet. Zouzhou’s over a thousand miles from Jiantai City. Even if their army’s moving fast, it’ll take them months to get here. And Great Zhou’s forces aren’t just going to sit back and let them waltz in.”
At this point, worrying wouldn’t help. First, they had to see how things played out.
Fu Ye clenched his fists. He refused to believe that he and Fu Huang together couldn’t defeat one so-called Chosen One.
And if they couldn’t? Then he’d die at Fu Huang’s side.
“…” Xiao Ai added, “I’m just gonna say it—if Fu Huang knew what you were thinking right now, I bet he’d be over the moon.”
Fu Ye groaned, “Ahhh! He just chewed on my chest—we can’t die now!”
Xiao Ai: “Oh.”
Honestly, Fu Ye could barely stand to hear himself say it!
He really should’ve checked in on how things were going more often. In just two days, these two had already gotten as far as chest-biting?
And the word “chew”—ugh, it sounded way too rough!
Fu Ye barely slept a wink that night. The next morning, Zhang Gui and the others arrived.
The newly appointed officials had started heading off to their posts, though none had been given high rank. Most of those who stayed in the capital were placed in the Hanlin Academy or in the historical archives. Zhang Gui was the exception. Because he’d always had a deep passion for military affairs, he’d joined the Ministry of War as a junior official—an eighth-rank position, lower even than Liu Hui’s—but as the top scholar of the year, and with both the Emperor and Fu Huang favoring him, he carried real weight in the Ministry.
He brought first-hand information.
And from him, Fu Ye finally heard something that let him breathe a little easier.
“His Majesty believed that while Great Liang’s troops appeared to be massing at the Langguo border—perhaps to attack Langguo—their true intentions couldn’t be trusted. So he split our forces. One army moved to support Langguo, the other toward Zouzhou just in case. And even earlier, when Great Liang first showed signs of heading south, His Majesty had already ordered a contingent of troops from Mingzhou to reinforce Zouzhou and Yuanzhou. So we weren’t caught completely off guard.”
That’s the man he admired!
Fu Huang—brilliant, decisive!
So full of foresight!
Fu Ye had warned him again and again to be wary of that Huang Tianyi—and Fu Huang had listened!
He discussed the situation with them for half the day, which helped ease his anxiety a bit. But after so many sleepless nights, he was completely worn out. As soon as Zhang Gui and the others left, he felt his strength give out.
Right then, Eunuch Qin arrived.
“His Majesty is in council with the Prime Minister and the others,” Qin said. “He thought Your Highness might have heard the news and would be worried, so he sent me to check on you. His words were: Your Highness should stay at home and focus on your studies—leave everything else aside. And for the next couple of days, there’s no need to come to the palace. Above all, take care of your health.”
Fu Ye nodded. “Then I’ll trouble you to look after him well at court. Even with war upon us, he must take care of himself—eat on time, take his medicine. And if anything at all is wrong with him, I expect to be told immediately. If he hides it from me again, I won’t forgive him.”
Qin smiled. “I’ll be sure to deliver your words exactly.”
Once Qin had gone, Fu Ye finally went to bathe.
After a night spent fretting, his mind was foggy, his body heavy. As he shed his clothes, he finally took a good look at himself.
Covered in marks.
Back then, Fu Huang had shoved him down, yanked open his collar, and gone at him. At the time, all Fu Ye could feel was the shivers that ran through him—pleasure, not pain. But seeing it now, he thought: Fu Huang really was terrifying.
And so was he.
Because the only thing he’d done was hold Fu Huang’s head against his chest.
He soaked in the hot water for a while. The mild sting of the heat only made him feel more dazed.
I can’t fall sick now, he thought. After his bath, he went straight to Yongning Pavilion and slept until nightfall.
When he finally woke, he stared blankly at nothing for a while. Once he fully came to his senses, he hurriedly called for Shuangfu and asked if there was any news.
Shuangfu shook his head. “The capital’s been very quiet.”
It was too quiet—deathly still. Even their own prince’s manor was eerily subdued. It felt as if nothing had happened, and yet everyone seemed on edge.
In ancient times, there was no real-time communication. Carrier pigeons weren’t anything like what you see in movies—far from precise or reliable. Zouzhou was over a thousand li from Jiantai City. Even if they sent the fastest couriers through the relay stations, riding day and night at three hundred li a day, it would take at least three days for news to arrive.
Which meant: whatever had happened in Zouzhou today—they wouldn’t know until three days later.
For those three days, Fu Ye stayed in the manor, studying as usual, never stepping out. The Empress Dowager even sent people by twice to remind him to stay home and focus on his books.
But surely, everyone spent these days tormented by anxiety.
Fu Ye, knowing the original story, was even more afraid than the others.
He’d been too happy lately—so happy it felt like his life was already perfect. He had everything: beauty, reputation, rank, and the love of the person he adored. But now, just thinking of it all filled him with dread.
As if he were standing at the highest peak, about to fall.
Maybe that’s why, on the third day, he had a terrible dream.
He dreamed of the scene from the novel—the infamous Battle of the Two Kings, brutal and bloody. In the Qingtai Hall, Fu Huang, mad with rage, was beheaded. His limbs were cast to the mob.
And Fu Ye, in his dream, saw it all—the face he knew so well, the face he loved so deeply, lifeless and gaunt, rolling to a stop at his feet.
He woke with a start, his whole body trembling, cold sweat and tears streaming down his face.
Shuangfu, alarmed by his cries in his sleep, rushed in, lifting the curtain. “Your Highness!”
Fu Ye stared at him wildly, his eyes unable to focus. After a long moment, he came to himself, like a frightened bird, unable to hold back any longer. Groggy, he got up, determined to go to the palace.
He shouldn’t be here.
He needed to be at Fu Huang’s side.
He immediately sent word to the palace, requesting entry.
There was no time to bathe or change—he threw on one of Fu Huang’s cloaks and paced restlessly in the front courtyard of the manor.
The morning sun burned down, the world around him deathly still. The guards and servants watched him anxiously.
Xiao Ai said, “You’re afraid because of how much you love him—you’re letting your worry consume you.”
Fu Ye said nothing.
The tear tracks on his face had dried, but his expression was grave.
Before long, Steward Jin and the others returned. “Your Highness, you may enter the palace now.”
Fu Ye climbed into the carriage at once, heading straight for the palace.
Even the city felt different today. The main streets were almost empty. As the carriage rolled through, the palace walls loomed, stark against the oppressive heat. The sky was too bright, too heavy—like a storm was coming.
At the entrance to Qingyuan Palace, there were more servants and sedan chairs than usual—likely the attendants of high officials, waiting to ferry them in and out.
Eunuch Qin came to greet him. “His Majesty is still in the West Annex reviewing military reports. Please, Your Highness, rest in the Spring Morning Hall for now.”
Fu Ye nodded and went to wait.
Haggard from his nightmare, he’d barely sat down before Fu Huang came in.
Fu Ye rushed up and threw his arms around him.
Fu Huang smiled. “I was thinking of having you brought over tomorrow—but you couldn’t wait, huh?”
Fu Ye held him tight. Feeling the warmth of his body, the chill that had gripped him since waking began to fade. Fu Huang stroked his head, then turned to look at him. “Why do you look so pale?”
Fu Ye said softly, “I had a nightmare.”
Fu Huang asked, “About me?”
Fu Ye nodded, holding him even tighter.
Fu Huang’s lips curved in a faint smile. “So that’s why you ran over here?”
Fu Ye nodded again.
Fu Huang kissed him gently on the cheek and said, “You’re not scared anymore, are you?”
Fu Ye let go of him and said, “Aren’t you still busy? Go ahead—I’m not leaving today. I’ll wait here for you.”
Fu Huang called Eunuch Qin in. “Summon the imperial physician to take a look at him.”
“I’m just tired from not sleeping well,” Fu Ye said.
But Fu Huang sent for the physician anyway, then hurried back to the West Annex to continue his work.
He’d made time to see Fu Ye the moment he heard he’d come.
Fu Ye let the physician examine him, ate a little something, and waited. It wasn’t until the lunch hour that Fu Huang finally saw off the ministers and returned to Spring Morning Hall to dine with him.
The whole time they ate, Fu Ye kept his eyes on him.
Fu Ye’s worry touched him deeply. These past couple of days, with urgent reports coming in one after another, the affairs of state truly weighed heavily on him—but seeing Fu Ye like this, he felt the tension ease, just a little.
As much as he enjoyed this tender concern, he didn’t want Fu Ye to fret too much. So he turned to Eunuch Qin and said, “Tell Shuangfu to go back and pack up His Highness’s daily things. Bring them all into the palace.”
Eunuch Qin looked up. “Your Majesty wishes His Highness to reside in the palace now?”
“Is that a problem?”
Problem? It wasn’t a problem—it should’ve happened long ago!
They’d all seen how the prince had wasted away, pining after the emperor. His health was too delicate to endure any more heartache!
And besides, with the emperor consumed by state affairs, having the prince nearby to assist would please even the Empress Dowager. Hadn’t she always hoped he would participate in governance?
So the Eunuch promptly ordered Shuangfu to return to the manor and see to the packing himself.
Fu Huang didn’t know what dream had shaken Fu Ye so, only that even as night fell, Fu Ye still looked at him with that same sorrowful gaze.
And Fu Huang… liked it. He liked seeing just how much Fu Ye cared.
He even wanted, just once, to see Fu Ye cry for him.
When the Empress Dowager learned Fu Ye was in the palace, she had him come to Cien Palace for supper. Now that war had broken out at the border, she was anxious too. She didn’t press him with questions about why he’d come, only told him to take good care of the emperor’s health.
Clearly, she also knew—when it came to war, everything depended on Fu Huang.
After leaving Cien Palace, Fu Ye returned straightaway to Spring Morning Hall. Eunuch Qin, a bit embarrassed, asked, “Your Highness… where do you plan to sleep tonight?”
He felt this was something Fu Ye ought to decide for himself.
Seeing the prince like this—so pale, so pitiful—who wouldn’t feel protective of him?
No one could bear to make things hard for him.
This time, Fu Ye didn’t hesitate. Though his face flushed with a bit of shyness, he said quietly, “I… I still want to talk to him tonight…”
Eunuch Qin left with a knowing smile.
Fu Ye felt even more embarrassed.
He thought to himself: I came rushing into the palace like I’d lost my soul, and now I’m insisting on staying the night? It seemed far too forward. Especially now, with war looming and Fu Huang so busy.
But tonight… he really needed to see Fu Huang, to feel his presence, to finally have some peace of mind.
He just… felt so empty inside.
It was as if that nightmare had been some kind of monster that swallowed a piece of his heart. Now his whole body ached with a damp chill, and he needed Fu Huang to warm him, to share some of his heat.
Fu Huang didn’t come back until after ten at night. Probably because of the war, even the elder ministers like Minister Xie hadn’t rested—when they left, Fu Ye could hear coughing through the courtyard wall. It startled him; for a moment he thought Fu Huang’s old cough had flared up again.
The moment Fu Huang came in, Fu Ye asked, “Were you just coughing?”
Fu Huang blinked, then said, “No.”
Then he saw Fu Ye lying on his bed, wrapped up tight in the blanket.
Fu Ye realized how he must look and felt a bit self-conscious. He pulled the covers over himself again, as if trying to hide.
He really did look like he was… waiting to be claimed.
Fu Huang went to wash up and change. It was a good while before he came back.
Eunuch Qin, tactful as ever, quietly pulled the screen around the bed.
Fu Ye scooted over to make room.
He was just so obedient.
And Fu Huang loved that about him—the way he seemed to tuck away all his sharp edges, like a tame little fox with sleek, bright fur, just waiting for him to stroke.
Fu Huang climbed into bed beside him, and no sooner had he lain down than Fu Ye nestled right against him.
His hair was loose and soft, his little face pale and smooth. His eyes, still tinged red, gazed up at him—truly breathtaking.
After these days apart, Fu Huang had missed him terribly. Now, with this warm body pressed close, he lowered his head slightly, fingers slipping into Fu Ye’s collar. “Did it hurt, on your way back?” he asked.
Fu Ye shook his head, then buried himself completely in Fu Huang’s arms.
“Do you want it again?” Fu Huang teased.
Fu Ye only burrowed in deeper.
So obedient.
“What was this dream that frightened you so?”
“I dreamt you died.” Fu Ye’s eyes filled with tears again.
“You’re taking a dream this seriously? Getting softer and softer.” His words might’ve sounded scolding, but his voice had gentled.
“And even if I did die,” Fu Huang said, “I’d crawl back from hell itself for you.”
Fu Ye didn’t find those words as comforting as they were meant to be.
He just lay there, silent, pressed close against him.
So Fu Huang wrapped his arms around him.
“Tighter,” Fu Ye whispered.
And Fu Huang held him tighter still.
In that almost-painful grip, Fu Ye found a fleeting moment of peace—but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Greedily, he breathed in the scent of Fu Huang’s body, that faint trace of medicine. This warmth stirred him more than any kiss ever could.
Because it felt so real.
His warm tears dampened Fu Huang’s shoulder.
Only then did Fu Huang truly grasp just how deeply that nightmare had terrified Fu Ye.
Outside, a sudden flash of light came through the window, and then the rumble of thunder followed, loud and rolling. Moments later came the patter of raindrops.
The heat that had smothered the day finally broke with a downpour.
The window hadn’t been shut properly, and Eunuch Qin hurried in. Through the screen, Fu Ye could see him quickly gathering up the memorials piled beside the heated bed, then going to close the window. The round little figure beside him had to be Shuangfu, helping to hold the papers.
The rustling sounds drew Fu Ye’s attention, and he peeked out from Fu Huang’s embrace, his dark eyes misty with tears.
Fu Huang bent down and kissed away the wetness on his cheeks.
Fu Ye’s body tensed in that moment, and he didn’t dare move again.
Because Fu Huang’s fingers had slipped inside his underclothes, dragging heavily down through his cleft from top to bottom.
Then they stopped, and the callus of his fingertip began to rub that tender spot.
Outside, the rain poured harder, the downpour roaring along with the thunder. Fu Ye clutched Fu Huang’s robe, and at last, all memory of the nightmare faded from his mind.
“Not thinking about that bad dream anymore, are you?” Fu Huang asked in a low voice.
And indeed, he wasn’t. With this, who could think of anything else?
That night’s rain fell until dawn. Fu Ye didn’t even know when he’d finally drifted off.
It was their first night sleeping wrapped in each other’s arms, and after days of restless nights, his exhaustion had caught up with him.
Fu Ye had always been good at sleeping.
Half-awake, he heard a commotion outside and opened his eyes. He heard Fu Huang’s voice: “You sleep. Don’t worry about it.”
And truly, he was so drained that Fu Huang’s warmth and scent were the best lullaby he could ask for.
Outside Qingyuan Palace, everything was pitch dark. In the stormy night, even the palace lanterns seemed dim and fragile. Fu Huang pulled on a robe and left, the sound of hurried footsteps fading into the distance.
By the time Fu Ye awoke the next morning, Fu Huang was already up. Chunchaotang was silent, and outside, the rain still fell, soft and steady.
Fu Ye lay there for a while before finally getting up.
The rain had cooled the air considerably. Eunuch Qin had the screens by the bed removed, and Fu Ye had Shuangfu open the window so he could look out at the rain-drenched rose vines.
Eunuch Qin came in, smiling as he helped him dress. “His Highness slept well.”
The haggardness of the day before was gone from Fu Ye’s face, and now, a faint, graceful charm lingered between his brows—he was beautiful.
It felt to Eunuch Qin like it wasn’t just the emperor who had changed these past few days; even Fu Ye had.
He couldn’t quite say what was different—the face was the same, but there was something subtly altered. Maybe it was because he’d served so closely at his side and witnessed it all.
Fu Ye asked, “Is there any news from Zouzhou?”
“His Majesty rose in the middle of the night because of a fresh military report.”
“He didn’t sleep all night?”
“He came back to rest for a bit in the second half of the night. He was afraid of disturbing Your Highness, so he just lay here on this bed for a while. At dawn, he left again.”
Just then, a palace attendant came in to report, “Your Highness, His Majesty says if you’re awake, please come to the west annex hall. The ministers are meeting—he’d like you to listen in.”
“Eat a little something first,” Eunuch Qin urged.
Fu Ye hastily drank a bowl of soup and immediately left Chunchaotang.
Outside, the rain still fell, pattering softly. The stone courtyard glistened with puddles. The rose vines along the walls had been battered and disheveled by the summer rain, but the buds climbing over the inner gate had been pushed by the night’s rain to crack open, showing greenish centers, their fragrance faint and dewy.
Eunuch Qin held up a golden oil-paper umbrella over him. Beneath it, Fu Ye wore a robe the color of molten sunset, the black jade dragon token at his waist swinging as he walked—his bearing was upright, noble, and strikingly beautiful.
When Fu Ye entered the west annex hall, he saw Grand Chancellor Xie and the others already there.
And to his surprise, Zhang Gui was there too.
When the others saw him come in, they quickly rose to salute.
The weather was cool today, and Fu Ye was dressed in the most splendid attire. Though his figure was slender, it felt as if his very presence brought with it a heady fragrance. The moment he entered, the whole imperial study seemed to brighten, filled with brilliance and grace.
Xu Zongyuan, who had seen him from a distance before, now found himself nearly dizzy at this close encounter.
He had seen beautiful people before, but truly, none as breathtaking as Prince Huan.
It made one think: were they not all molded by the same goddess, Nuwa? How could one person be made like this?
So radiant, he could move all under heaven!
The situation in Zouzhou wasn’t good. As they spoke, it became clear that Huang Tianyi was indeed valiant—despite being emperor, he still led from the front, and because of that, morale in his army was high.
Fu Ye sat by Fu Huang’s side, listening intently. When Fu Huang asked for tea, Fu Ye immediately handed it to him.
But the moment his gaze fell on Fu Huang’s hand, his face flushed red.
The chancellor and the others were still deep in political discussion, and Fu Ye did care about what they said—but with Fu Huang right beside him, one hand resting on the desk, tapping idly…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His hand was large, his fingers long and well-shaped. And Fu Ye knew better than anyone how rough those calloused fingertips could feel—because he’d been touched, pressed, and caressed by them for so long.
He cleared his throat softly, and Fu Huang immediately turned to look at him. Fu Ye shifted ever so slightly, his neck and ears tinged pink.
Fu Huang, who had been tapping the desk absentmindedly, quietly withdrew his hand.
Outside, the rain began to pour more heavily, rattling against the eaves.
Fu Ye reached out to pick up a military report from the desk, focusing his mind once more.
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