Though his eyes were fixed on the memorial in his hands, Fu Ye’s mind wasn’t entirely on what he was reading.
Fu Huang—this man wasn’t gentle in the least.
Just like his hands: scarred, hardened with calluses earned from years of archery and horseback riding since his youth. Even now, as emperor, he did not possess hands that knew how to handle delicate things with care.
He always liked to use those rough calluses to bring him that sharp, tingling pain.
Now, as Fu Huang sat there listening to the ministers, his expression was as solemn as ever.
His features naturally leaned toward severity. His lean build only added to the air of authority. His phoenix-shaped eyes tilted slightly at the corners, his lips a bit dry, the set of his mouth carrying a faint hint of impatience.
So much so that, in his presence, all the ministers were extra cautious, their voices lowered as they spoke.
Fu Ye had read in history books of ministers who dared to challenge emperors, even those who could restrain and check the emperor’s power.
But that sort of thing would never happen with Fu Huang.
He truly sat high upon the dragon throne, gazing down at all beneath him.
And it was exactly that kind of presence that made him so captivating.
“Let’s take a short break before continuing,” Fu Huang said.
The ministers rose to their feet.
Fu Huang immediately turned to Fu Ye and said, “Focus when you read.”
Fu Ye: “…”
Fu Huang really understood him too well these days.
Fu Ye pressed his lips together, feeling even more bashful facing Fu Huang.
It was odd—between the two of them, he was the one who’d been less proper.
So why did Fu Huang always seem so composed, so unruffled?
It left him feeling terribly self-conscious.
He thought about it—it was probably because he’d always been the one passively receiving.
He ought to take the initiative.
Yes, that was it. He was simply too shy.
Thicker skin was something one could cultivate!
To truly ride the dragon—that would be real freedom and flair!
A rush of desire and the illusion of courage surged up within him.
Fu Huang hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. Qin Neijian brought him a bowl of porridge and some light side dishes.
The ministers retreated to the north wing to rest and eat. Through the screen, they could see attendants coming and going with food boxes.
Fu Huang ate a little, took his medicine—it was bitter—then followed it with two pieces of the pastries from Prince Huan’s residence.
Fu Ye sat beside him, reading the memorials.
There were several—some from Zouzhou, others from Yuanzhou. One in particular was very detailed.
The enemy had launched a surprise attack at dawn, several hundred strong, fully equipped with bows and crossbows. There were traitors inside the city who assisted them. The report covered everything: how the fighting began, how long it lasted, the casualties and outcome, the performance of their generals, losses in equipment, even post-battle assessments and predictions.
Fu Ye read carefully, his expression gradually becoming grave.
Today, he wore a robe the color of molten gold at sunset, magnificent yet understated, with only a black jade hairpin and dragon tally at his waist as adornments—both black, both simple. That pairing of opulence and restraint gave him an air of noble elegance.
Looking at Fu Ye’s appearance now—with those lush features, but so fresh and upright—it was hard to imagine that at night, this same person clung to his neck and let him do as he pleased.
When Fu Huang’s fingers brushed near but did not enter, Fu Ye had actually shifted his hips on his own.
His callused fingertips were damp.
The rain today made the light dim. The study was lit by two lanterns with red lacquer poles and golden filigree, their shades painted with auspicious characters.
Fu Ye sat straight beside the light, the hand holding the memorial so pale the knuckles seemed faintly tinged with pink.
In that lamplight, his skin truly looked as white as jade.
He thought to himself: Fu Ye is truly beautiful.
Sometimes, he felt he was no different from any ordinary man—often bewitched by that beauty, as if possessed.
At this moment, after taking his medicine, his body felt a bit warm. Thinking of how fortunate he was, he couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of dread.
Right now, he possessed the most beautiful and exceptional man in the world. Reflecting on all the twists of fate that had brought them together—it felt as though the heavens had arranged it all just for him.
And so he wondered: Could the heavens really be so kind to me? Might they suddenly take it all back?
Otherwise, why would war break out at the border just when everything seemed to be going so well for him?
As for the reports from Zouzhou, so far they weren’t too worrying.
The sneak attack by Da Liang on Zouzhou had failed. Neither side had committed its main forces there. Though Zouzhou was remote, its people were fierce and steadfast. The locals felt a strong sense of belonging to Da Zhou, so their will to resist Da Liang ran high. The military and civilians stood united.
That morning, Xu Zongyuan and several other generals had already set out for the border, with Fu Huang personally seeing them off at the city gates.
Fu Ye, meanwhile, had returned to the Chunchaotang to have his meal.
“Zouzhou was originally Da Zhou’s territory. When the northern tribes came south, the regional governor, Liang Fande, with the help of Dayong’s forces, declared himself emperor. Later, it was His Majesty who personally led the campaign to retake Zouzhou and bring it back under our rule,” Qin Neijian said, nibbling on his food as he spoke.
Fu Ye was very familiar with the place called Zouzhou.
It was in Zouzhou that Fu Huang had once been poisoned.
Shuangfu said, “Speaking of Zouzhou, Qingxi is from there too.”
Fu Ye blinked in surprise and looked at him. “Really?”
Shuangfu nodded.
“Then he’s from the same place as those mute servants in the Secretariat?”
Shuangfu nodded again.
Qin Neijian added, “Qingxi’s father was once a clerk in Zouzhou. When Liang Fande rebelled, his father was killed, and the whole family fell into slavery. Qingxi became a eunuch in Liang Fande’s palace. Later, when His Majesty ordered the local mute slaves to be sent to the capital, he came along. At the time, he pretended to be mute and spent over two years playing the part of a mute servant in Prince Qi’s residence.”
Qingxi had always been quiet, and Fu Ye had truly never known much about his background.
“Qingxi should be back by now, right?” Shuangfu asked Qin Neijian.
Qin Neijian thought for a moment, then said quietly, “Qingxi won’t be coming back.”
Shuangfu was utterly shocked. “Why?!”
Qin Neijian said, “Now that things have come to this, I won’t keep it from Your Highness anymore. It’s true that Qingxi was ill—but the real reason he was sent out of the palace was because he betrayed his master… Back then, the reason the Empress Dowager saw through what was happening between Your Highness and His Majesty was because he reported it to her.”
Fu Ye froze in place, and Shuangfu was stunned speechless.
Qin Neijian went on, “When the Empress Dowager suddenly acted against His Majesty, both His Majesty and I thought something was off. His Majesty has always cherished Your Highness deeply. If it hadn’t been someone very close, no one could have seen through it. For the Empress Dowager to speak so confidently and threaten His Majesty the way she did, she must have felt sure of herself. At the time, the only ones who knew His Majesty had feelings for Your Highness were Qingxi and myself. So it wasn’t hard to figure out. And Qingxi admitted it readily.
He said he did it because he was thinking of Your Highness’s well-being. He couldn’t bear to see Your Highness… and so he risked his life to speak to the Empress Dowager.
Out of pity for how loyal and thoughtful he’d always been, I pleaded with His Majesty to spare him, and he was sent off to guard the imperial tombs.”
Fu Ye said quietly, “If he really did it out of care for me, I suppose you could say he was brave.”
“Whether his intentions were loyal or not, His Majesty could never allow him back into the palace again.”
Shuangfu’s face had gone pale as a sheet.
He and Qingxi had always been close.
Fu Ye thought it over carefully. It was true that not long after Qingxi had left him, claiming illness, Fu Huang had him sent out of the palace. After that, he’d never seen Qingxi again.
Qin Neijian added, “But Your Highness, rest assured—Qingxi isn’t suffering out there. His life is peaceful enough.”
Fu Ye thought: What Qingxi did was truly risky.
Given Fu Huang’s nature, Qingxi had been more dead than alive by the time it was over. To take that kind of risk just to report to the Empress Dowager… They’d only known each other a few months—could he really have been that loyal?
He’d had a few late-night conversations with Qingxi before.
But Qingxi wasn’t like Shuangfu. Shuangfu had followed him loyally and had no ties left to the Empress Dowager’s side.
But Qingxi… Fu Ye had always felt that Qingxi, for all his careful service, ultimately belonged to Fu Huang and Qin Neijian.
And everything about him showed just how devoted he was to Fu Huang.
Because of what had happened, Shuangfu seemed deflated, like a plant after frost. He even cried over it.
When Fu Huang returned and saw this, he asked, “What’s wrong with Shuangfu?”
His clothes were damp from his trip outside the city. Fu Ye helped him out of his outer robe and told him what had happened.
Fu Huang said, “If he managed to keep his life, it was because the steward spoke for him—and because what he did really was for your sake. But someone like that has no place in Qingyuan Palace.”
Fu Ye said, “I just don’t know if he truly did it for our good.”
Fu Huang’s expression grew a bit more serious. “Whether it was for our good or not, he acted behind our backs. A person like that can’t be kept close.”
Fu Ye nodded. “I understand.”
Still… he couldn’t help but wonder: What if Qingxi really had meant well…
Fu Huang said, “You’re good in so many ways—but you’re too soft-hearted. It’s fine for now, while I’m here. But if the day ever comes when I’m gone, you mustn’t be overly kind. Remember: compassion can’t command an army; sentiment can’t rule a state. When you need to be ruthless, you must be ruthless. In times of turmoil, a firm hand and harsh measures are what hold things together. Understand?”
Fu Ye’s expression changed. “Why would you not be here?”
Fu Huang paused, then said, “Now that you’re learning to govern, I was just sharing some lessons about statecraft.”
He thought to himself: I just comforted him yesterday. I shouldn’t have said that today.
Fu Ye’s head lowered. “I could never do what you do. If you’re worried about me, then just take care of yourself.”
Fu Huang pulled him into his arms. “I was just speaking offhand.”
Fu Ye looked up at him.
Fu Huang’s heart melted. He said gently, “For you, I’ll live to a ripe old age—how about that?”
And Fu Ye hugged him back tightly.
With the war situation so uncertain lately, Fu Ye had been gripped by a sense of foreboding. He knew there was no way this would end without a brutal battle between the two nations. Just thinking of that terrifyingly vivid scene from his dream filled him with dread. And now, hearing Fu Huang speak like this—as if leaving a last testament—made him all the more afraid.
Fu Huang said, “It was just a dream, and look at how shaken up you are. Or is it that what I did last night wasn’t enough, and that’s why you’re letting your mind run wild?”
Fu Ye’s face flushed hot. The warmth on his cheeks mingled with the heaviness of his anxiety, leaving him feeling dazed and overwhelmed.
In a small voice, he said, “…it wasn’t enough.”
Fu Huang: “…”
He had truly underestimated him.
Fu Ye looked up at Fu Huang’s dry lips.
He couldn’t bear to imagine what it would be like if Fu Huang were gone.
Just the thought of it filled him with panic, like he’d caught a glimpse of his future loneliness and emptiness. In this world, he had no kin, no true friends—only Fu Huang. Without realizing it, it seemed he had placed all his hopes, all his affections, in this one man.
That thought made a deep surge of love well up inside him. Maybe that surge was even stronger in this moment of fear than his genuine feelings had ever been—it rose up in a tide that threatened to swallow him whole.
He tilted his head back, as if to catch a breath before he drowned in it.
Fu Huang saw the flush on his small face, and bent down to kiss him.
That familiar masculine scent filled Fu Ye’s senses, sinking deep into his body, bringing him warmth and a fleeting sense of peace.
Fu Huang could feel the change in him—it was like holding a handful of melting honey.
That raw, intense love made him taste sweeter than ever. The unease of the war and his own exhaustion made Fu Huang kiss him even more fiercely.
Fu Ye was left breathless, trembling as he felt a brief, aching satisfaction.
He thought to himself that he was growing more and more twisted—ordinary affection no longer satisfied him.
His heart pounded wildly as he tried to hold back the darker, more desperate parts of his love. And yet, he clung to Fu Huang all the tighter, unwilling to let go.
It was a long while before Fu Huang finally left for the west annex.
Qin Neijian said, “Your Majesty, there’s no need to think about these things so soon.”
Fu Huang said, “I’m just afraid I won’t live long enough.”
“Your Majesty!”
Fu Huang smiled. “But you’re right—he’s only twenty, and he’s been back in the palace for less than half a year. It is a bit much to ask him to shoulder such a heavy burden so soon.”
“As the saying goes, ‘A river’s course may change, but its nature stays the same.’ The prince’s kind and gentle nature is part of who he is. Without Your Majesty to watch over him, I fear it’ll be hard for him to stand firm. For the prince’s sake, Your Majesty must live a long, long life.”
Fu Huang thought for a moment. “You’re right.”
It really is easier to be a wealthy prince than an emperor.
If what it takes to give him peace is for me to hold up the sky above him—I’m more than willing.
But anyone who tries to bring that sky down… deserves to die.
Since Fu Ye didn’t understand military affairs, what he could do was help Fu Huang review routine reports, easing his burden so he could focus on the war.
Now that the rainy season had come to Great Zhou, many reports dealt with flood prevention and water levels. The wheat harvest was underway too, and reports on that kept coming in from every province and county.
But to Fu Ye, there was one issue even more urgent: the remnants of the Red Lotus Society.
In the original story, one reason the male lead Huang Tianyi was able to conquer Great Zhou so swiftly—aside from the government’s collapse and the loss of the people’s faith—was the Red Lotus Society. From common folk to high-ranking officials, even some provincial governors were members. When war broke out, whole provinces opened their gates to welcome Huang Tianyi’s army, surrendering without a fight.
Of course, Fu Huang’s earlier thunderous crackdowns had nearly wiped the Red Lotus Society from Great Zhou.
But their power was built on belief, and surely some still clung to that faith in secret. In peaceful times, maybe they’d simply keep their faith hidden. But now, with the enemy on the move, if Great Liang won a few victories in a row, those people might not be able to sit still anymore—they’d stir up trouble.
Fu Ye drafted several decrees and took them to Fu Huang for review.
Fu Huang was reading when he heard someone dash in through the rain.
“Your Majesty, an urgent report from Zouzou!”
Xie Xiang and the others, who had been resting in the north wing, immediately rushed over. The messenger eunuch was soaked through as he handed over the military report.
Fu Huang took it, opened it, and began reading. Fu Ye leaned over, caught just a glimpse—and his heart started to race.
Zouzou had fallen.
The army sent to reinforce Lang had also been ambushed by the combined forces of Lang and Great Liang.
Xie Liangbi had been with that reinforcement force. Xie Xiang was visibly shaken now.
“So it turns out Lang had been in league with them all along! That plea for help was nothing but part of their scheme!”
And now Great Liang was rapidly advancing on Yuanzhou.
Fu Ye felt as if he’d plunged into an icy abyss. The nightmare was coming true.
The tension inside Qingyuan Palace rose sharply. Reports kept arriving one after another. Outside, the rain came down harder still.
It would be even heavier in the south, no doubt.
And as that rain poured down, it felt like it was filling his heart too, pooling into a dark, heavy sea.
Fu Ye paced restlessly in Chunchaotang.
Xiao Ai said, “Looks like there’s no avoiding a brutal war now.”
Fu Ye didn’t answer.
The two nations were fairly evenly matched; it was a fifty-fifty chance of victory or defeat.
And fifty-fifty was terrifying enough. Half meant life; half meant death.
What’s more, in the original story, Great Zhou had lost.
Right now, that original story felt like a curse, a prophecy. Even Xiao Ai no longer knew how to comfort him—the scales in her heart had already begun tipping toward defeat.
The male lead’s army was cutting through everything like a hot knife through butter. It was impossible not to imagine: if they kept advancing like this, what would become of Great Zhou?
Maybe the entire country would turn into one giant burning Yongfu Pagoda, countless lives lost in the flames.
His fear ran so deep, it chilled him to the bone.
Fu Huang didn’t return until the middle of the night.
“Why are you still awake?” he asked.
Fu Ye made a small sound in response and then asked for the latest updates.
Fu Huang’s expression was steady, though clearly tired. He explained everything to Fu Ye in detail.
Afraid of adding to Fu Huang’s burden, Fu Ye forced himself to hide his fear, not letting even a trace of it show.
“Forget it. We’ll think about all that tomorrow,” he said softly. “Right now, I’m waiting for you to sleep with me.”
Fu Huang took off his robe and lay down beside him.
Fu Ye immediately curled into his arms.
Fu Huang hadn’t bathed that night—the faint scent of medicine clung to him, and even his familiar scent seemed lighter somehow.
He must have been utterly exhausted. He just held Fu Ye quietly, lying there together.
Fu Ye felt like his heart had sunk into endless darkness. He drifted off in a fog, and when morning came, he woke even earlier than Fu Huang.
Fu Huang was sleeping soundly. Fu Ye tilted his head to gaze at him in the morning light.
Fu Huang’s jawline was sharp and defined. The mix of fear and love in Fu Ye’s heart stirred an ill-timed heat within him. Suddenly, he felt something pressing against him.
It was long—his soft, loose undergarments barely masking it. Through the thin fabric, he could make out its outline, its shape and the trace of its veins. His body flushed with warmth, and so did his heart. Honestly, it was embarrassing, even irrational—but in that moment, Fu Huang’s raw, masculine vitality seemed to fill Fu Ye with confidence. He lowered his head, shifting slightly, wanting to feel with his own body the true strength and grandeur of this Son of Heaven.
Before that powerful vitality could fill his body, it had already filled his heart. Outside the screen, the light gradually grew brighter.
The sun had come out.
Fu Huang—he should be the one to replace that Huang Tianyi, to be the true sovereign of all under heaven, to leave a legacy for the ages. Fu Ye had to believe in that, had to believe that his beloved was destined to be the greatest ruler of all.
Just then, Fu Huang awoke and, seeing Fu Ye, pulled him closer.
It was the voices outside that had woken Fu Huang. His sleep was always light.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep, the sound vibrating through Fu Ye’s eardrums.
Outside the screen, Eunuch Qin answered, “Your Majesty, Chancellor Xie and the others are all here.”
Fu Ye sat up first. Fu Huang lay there looking at him.
His striking phoenix eyes, with the weight of sleep still on them, appeared even more direct—dry, sharp, and incredibly handsome.
“I had another dream last night,” Fu Ye said.
Fu Huang watched him.
“I dreamed you utterly crushed that Huang Tianyi—had him on his knees begging for mercy. And the whole eight hundred li of Great Liang became territory of Great Zhou.”
Fu Huang chuckled softly. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.”
Fu Ye took his hand and said, “I’ve always believed my good dreams come true. This one will too!”
Fu Huang lay there a moment longer, then rose and draped on a dark cloak. “You should sleep a little more.”
Fu Ye gave a soft “Mm,” watching him leave. Then he glanced down at his belly—where he’d felt that firm pressure, the hollow had already smoothed out, though there was still a small damp spot.
Left behind by Fu Huang.
He lay back down, mind adrift with thoughts. After a while, he heard Eunuch Qin enter.
“My lord, the sky’s cleared. There’s a rainbow outside.”
At that, Fu Ye immediately threw on his robe, climbed up onto the kang table, and pushed open the window. Across the trellis of rose vines, a grand rainbow arched over the palace rooftops. His heart felt lighter, as if filled with a noble, fearless energy. In that moment, he thought—he was Fu Huang’s beloved, a prince of the realm. He ought to be steadfast and brave, to stand with Fu Huang against the enemies beyond and secure peace within.
To do all he could. To live and die as one.
