Although the Emperor still managed to send letters almost every day, as the army drew farther and farther from the capital, the delivery of news became increasingly delayed. The Empress Dowager, perhaps worn thin by worry, decided to retreat to Fuhua Temple to fast and pray.
Fu Ye, meanwhile, officially began his duties as regent.
Though the Secretariat assisted him, and though he had the guidance of Chancellor Xie and other senior officials, his daily workload was still overwhelming. He would rise before dawn each day and not find rest until deep into the night.
Everyone dreams of being emperor—but unless one has been prepared for years, it’s not a role an ordinary person can truly handle.
The workload itself wasn’t the hardest part. After all, all people work hard.
The real burden was psychological.
The thought that every idea, every decision of his could affect the fate of the nation and the lives of the people—that was what weighed on him most. At first, he truly found himself unable to eat or sleep.
All he wished for was Fu Huang’s swift return.
Fu Huang was far more suited to be emperor.
He himself was better at supporting from behind.
In addition to the daily affairs of governance, whenever he had a spare moment, he would go out into the city and its outskirts on inspection tours. These outings were not only meant to oversee local affairs but also to reassure the people and strengthen the prestige of the royal family. By now, he had become a central figure in the capital; no matter where he went, crowds would gather in droves.
Zhao Ziying, in a letter to Zhang Gui, even mentioned him, describing how, during a tour of the farmlands near the capital during harvest season, “the roads were packed, the onlookers countless,” and how “Prince Huan removed his shoes and socks, stepped into the fields, and personally worked the soil—drawing praise from all the people.”
Zhang Gui naturally made sure to pass this news along to Fu Huang.
He’d noticed that recently, every time a message arrived from the capital, among them would be a letter written on gilded paper, with a rose tucked inside the envelope.
Such an elegant gesture clearly wasn’t from Chancellor Xie or the others—it could only be from the Prince.
He mentioned this to Zhao Ziying, and the two of them agreed this matter was anything but simple.
The idea that His Majesty and the Prince might share the same kind of bond as they did as husband and wife left them both shocked and thrilled.
Thrilled because the Son of Heaven and the Prince of Huan were actually like them. Shocked because… well, these were the Emperor and the Prince, after all.
By comparison, their own romance—famous though it was in the capital—suddenly seemed rather ordinary.
Zhang Gui shared Zhao Ziying’s remarks with the Emperor, watching carefully for any change in his expression.
The Emperor, tall and imposing, rarely let emotion show on his face. Most of the time, his features were unreadable. But upon hearing this, a rare warmth softened his gaze. He said quietly, “He really does have a way with these things.”
Zhang Gui hurried to add, “The Prince once told me he hoped that one day he might see the whole of Great Zhou with his own eyes. The Prince speaks well, and his bearing is admirable. When the land is at peace, when all is calm from sea to sea, Your Majesty could take the Prince on a tour of the realm. It would fulfill his long-held wish—and let all under heaven behold the majesty of their sovereign.”
In truth, he’d been meaning for a while to suggest that the Emperor’s demeanor was perhaps too severe, and that his reputation had suffered for it. The royal family could greatly benefit from having the Prince—so beautiful and so gentle—make more public appearances. It would reflect well on the Emperor himself.
Fu Huang considered Zhang Gui’s proposal and thought it excellent.
Once peace was restored, he would take him and travel the whole country together.
Fu Ye loved the spotlight. Well then, he’d let him have his fill.
There were so many things he wanted to do.
He longed to return to the palace, to kiss him and love him, to stay by his side always. The more he reflected on how they had met and grown close, the more he felt that heaven itself had shown him mercy, granting him this blessing at a time when his life had grown cold and stale. If he didn’t seize this chance and fight with all his might, he’d be unworthy of the grace the heavens had shown.
He tucked the rose from the letter into his robe, slung the black-sheathed sword that had followed him through so many campaigns onto his back, and stepped out of his command tent.
It had been years since he’d smelled blood on the wind—and to his surprise, the scent stirred a thrill in him.
Outside the golden dragon-embroidered tent, the assembled generals waited. The Emperor was about to lead an elite force ahead of the main army, riding straight for the front at Tiger Gorge Pass. For the sovereign to command in person was already enough to steady the hearts of his men—this was reckless.
They were all deeply worried. But the Emperor’s word was law. They could not dissuade him.
If the Prince had been here, perhaps he could have.
The night sky was black as ink, no stars, no moon—perfect for a surprise assault. The wind snapped Zhang Gui’s robes as he stood beside the campfire. Zhao Ziying had written that the stars foretold rain over the capital in the coming days. Who knew if it had begun yet?
And as he watched His Majesty ride off into the darkness, Zhang Gui’s heart ached. On the battlefield, life and death could be decided in a heartbeat. And if fate truly turned its back, then when the Emperor fell, the Prince—so far away—would still be dreaming of him, unaware.
It made him mourn all the more.
The distance between north and south was vast—over a thousand miles. Even their messages took several days. And lately, troubling reports kept coming in from the capital. They said the enemy forces from Great Liang were nearly upon Hebei. Now it was General Xu Zongyuan and a few other brave commanders holding the final natural barrier at Tiger Gorge Pass.
But curiously, the capital had begun whispering of a rumor that overshadowed even news of the war.
They said the current Prince of Huan wasn’t truly the Sixth Prince of the royal family.
The first reason? He was simply too beautiful.
Not to mention how he compared to the late Prince Qi and the others—even standing next to the current Emperor, there was no similarity in height or looks whatsoever.
The second reason people doubted: he’d been missing for years. His identity was, at the very least, questionable.
But most folks didn’t believe the rumors.
“Isn’t it just because His Highness the Prince of Huan takes after his mother, Lady Zhaoyang?”
“Exactly! You think someone could just walk into the palace, claim royal blood, and get away with it? When the Prince came back, he was examined by so many people!”
“Right! I say this is someone trying to spread lies while the Emperor’s away at war, to shake public confidence!”
Prince of Ankang: “…”
He was so furious in his residence that he nearly smashed that gold-threaded tiger screen his steward had just gifted him.
Of course he wasn’t thinking of taking advantage of the situation to rebel. As long as Fu Huang was alive, who dared rebel?
It was just… laying some groundwork.
What if Fu Huang didn’t come back?
This whole scheme had been cooked up by a few of his trusted aides in the past couple of days.
“Your Highness, the Emperor’s gone to war. His fate is uncertain. If something happens to him… do you really want to just hand over the empire to the Prince of Huan?”
“The Prince has barely been back any time at all. He’s got no real power base at court. Sure, we couldn’t dream of contending with His Majesty—but with him? We might actually stand a chance.”
Prince Ankang had lived his whole life bowing and scraping, treading carefully. And while he was terrified at the thought, deep down he felt a flicker of excitement too. After all, who could spend years as heir apparent without entertaining a few fantasies? The position was dangerous, and living under a sovereign like Fu Huang—a man he thought half mad—was like walking a tightrope. He was sick of it.
“Since time immemorial, no deposed crown prince has ever met a good end. Back when Your Highness was heir presumptive, you were practically a crown prince. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager and the great ministers once placed their hopes in you. When a new ruler ascends, do you think he’ll leave you in peace?”
It made a lot of sense!
What—was he supposed to live in even greater fear than before?
His royal bloodline had been nothing but a curse to him!
By birth, by status, by public standing, the Prince of Huan now stood above him. The only crack in the armor? The lingering doubt about his origins.
He figured he’d just plant some seeds of rumor for now, prepare for the future.
But he hadn’t expected no one would buy it!
And what he’d said had been true enough, hadn’t it?
The Prince of Huan really didn’t look like a member of the Fu clan!
And now people were starting to wonder if someone was deliberately spreading falsehoods behind the scenes.
That frightened Prince Ankang so much he holed up in his residence, afraid to set foot outside.
But his bolder aides weren’t about to give up. Seeing him too scared to act, they went and brought him a “man of consequence.”
This gentleman didn’t look more than thirty. He had a short beard, an ordinary face, but an uncommon air about him. Said he was from Zhejiang and wished to serve as the prince’s advisor.
Prince Ankang had lived cautiously in the capital for years. With a house full of wives, concubines, and children, he wasn’t about to trust a stranger lightly.
But the man asked, “Does Your Highness know who I am?”
Prince Ankang glanced at his aides—and saw the older ones standing respectfully behind the man.
His heart skipped a beat. “Who are you?”
The man bowed and said, “I am He Yan, strategist to the Emperor of Great Liang.”
!!
Prince Ankang turned as white as a sheet. He glared at his aides. “You—you’re trying to get me killed?! Guards!”
But He Yan said calmly, “Your Highness, I suggest you think this through before calling anyone.”
And just then, the steward arrived with the guards in tow.
But that man didn’t panic in the slightest. He said calmly, “I urge Your Highness to think twice. Since I’ve dared reveal my identity, of course I’ve come prepared. You could kill me right now—but what do you think would happen if word reached the palace that the Prince of Ankang was secretly consorting with the Great Liang Emperor’s strategist? What would become of everyone in this residence?”
Prince Ankang’s fair, delicate face twisted into something almost feral. He spun toward his aides. “You… you…”
One of the elder retainers stepped forward, knelt, and said, “Your Highness, perhaps you should hear what this gentleman has to say. Better to seize the opportunity and fight, than to let others carve you up like meat on a chopping block.”
He Yan added, “Your Highness, do you really think these few are the only members of the Red Lotus Society in this city?”
“Red Lotus Society…” Prince Ankang stumbled back a few steps and collapsed onto the divan.
Behind him, that towering golden tiger screen seemed almost ready to pounce and devour him.
—
In Cien Palace, an inner attendant hurried through the curtained flower gate and entered Chun Chao Hall.
Fu Ye was there, draped in Fu Huang’s dark dragon robe, deep in discussion with Grand Chancellor Xie. Eunuch Qin took the sealed message from the breathless attendant and presented it respectfully to Fu Ye.
Fu Ye took it, broke the seal, scanned it, and passed it to Grand Chancellor Xie.
Xie read it, then looked up. “Your Highness truly foresaw this.”
But the truth was, Fu Ye hadn’t foreseen a thing.
He was no strategist—not by a long shot.
It was pure dumb luck.
In the original story, the male lead had relied on the Red Lotus Society to climb to power. So Fu Ye had always been wary of them, figuring that like a centipede that won’t die even when cut, the Red Lotus Society might stir up trouble when things got chaotic. He hadn’t expected to discover that the organization really was on the move these past few days.
And once they started digging, they found several of its members planted right in Prince Ankang’s household.
That put Fu Ye on high alert.
He didn’t know Prince Ankang well. His impression was of a soft-spoken, mild-tempered man, fair-faced and beardless, fond of elegant pursuits—the one royal who’d always been warmest to him, as if his return had been some kind of salvation. Back at Fuhua Temple, they’d gotten along famously. To this day, the prince’s residence still displayed the Portrait of Lady Li Wearing Flowers that Prince Ankang had gifted him.
In ancient warfare, attacking an enemy’s supplies was a time-honored move. Fu Ye figured this plot was just the same—they wanted to set the capital ablaze while Fu Huang was fighting at the front.
And now it all fit together. That letter from Zhao Ziying yesterday, warning that rumors about his origins were spreading in the capital—that had to be their doing, too.
Xiao Ai said, “Could it be that Prince Ankang’s in league with them, planning a rebellion?”
Fu Ye said, “If the capital erupts in chaos while Fu Huang’s at war, he’ll be distracted. And if he’s distracted and loses the battle, the capital will spiral into deeper turmoil.”
And then? A vicious cycle. The whole thing would collapse in an instant.
What a poisonous scheme! And to think they’d even thought to use his birthright against him.
“Rumors are just rumors. They’ve got no way to prove you’re not who you say you are. As long as the Emperor acknowledges you, no one else can touch you.”
Fu Ye said, “Exactly. The point of the rumors is to pave the way for Prince Ankang’s rise. We have to keep a close eye on him.”
Grand Chancellor Xie asked, “Should we wait a little longer, to see which other officials in the capital might still be part of the Red Lotus Society? That way, when we strike, we can wipe them out root and branch.”
Fu Ye thought for a moment, then said, “If we wait until they’ve gained real momentum, even if we can wipe them out completely, it’ll likely plunge the capital into chaos.”
With the great war looming, the last thing they could afford was unrest at home. He was still green at this—he didn’t dare take that risk.
—
Early the next morning, He Yan and his lot had barely gotten up, planning to press Ankang Prince Fu Xian a little harder, when they saw the steward sprinting toward the prince’s main residence, pale and trembling.
One of the prince’s retainers called out, “What’s the matter? Why so panicked?”
The steward stammered, “The Golden Armor Guards have surrounded the residence. They say Prince Huan is coming today!“
Ankang Prince: “!!”
Somebody save me!
He Yan: “That fast?!”
Now that Prince Huan was acting regent, his authority had soared—and so had the grandeur of his procession.
Wherever he went, crowds swarmed to catch a glimpse. And today, arriving at the Ankang Prince’s residence, the spectacle was even grander. The prince led his entire household out to the front gates to receive him—only to see a sea of armored men stretching as far as the eye could see.
Prince Huan hadn’t even arrived yet, and Fu Xian was already on the verge of fainting.
Before long, banners embroidered with sun, moon, and stars rippled in the breeze, and Prince Huan’s procession approached, the Golden Armor Guards surrounding him in tight formation. Moments later, Fu Xian spotted Fu Ye seated in his imperial carriage, clad in crimson robes embroidered with a coiling golden dragon, his crown’s golden wings seeming poised for flight.
Fu Xian felt utterly shamed by the sight, like a cheap trinket beside a flawless jewel. He dropped to his knees, the back of his robes already soaked with sweat.
Fu Ye stepped down from his carriage and entered the residence without a word.
Fu Xian, trembling, kept his head down and followed.
Though the Ankang Prince’s estate was only half the size of Prince Huan’s, its pavilions and towers reflected a graceful southern charm. The Golden Armor Guards filed in behind. Fu Xian managed only a few steps before he collapsed, prostrating himself on the ground. “Your Highness, please! I was deceived—I swear I was deceived! It was my retainers conspiring with outsiders, Your Highness!”
Fu Ye nodded slightly. “Go on.”
Though Fu Xian had harbored treacherous thoughts, he lacked the courage to act on them. Years of living in the shadow of Fu Huang’s iron will had worn him down. What began as cautious restraint had, over time, become second nature—a deep-seated fear that had hollowed out any royal backbone he once possessed. Now, faced with Prince Huan storming his gates, he knew if he didn’t come clean, his whole household would be doomed.
And so, he confessed everything in painstaking detail.
Fu Ye listened without comment, finally seating himself in the main hall.
Before long, Li Dun and his men hauled in He Yan and the others.
This He Yan, at least, had some nerve—he refused to kneel.
Li Dun gave him a light kick, and down he went, sprawled at Fu Ye’s feet.
Days earlier, when He Yan had seen Fu Ye on the main avenue, he’d thought to himself: Such beauty, such nobility. No wonder our Emperor enjoys both men and women alike. Once we take the city, someone like him should be brought into the harem as a cherished prize.
But now, looking at Fu Ye again, He Yan only felt more dazzled—this man was even more breathtaking up close, radiant beyond words.
A beauty unmatched in his lifetime, a glow that seemed to spill light across the hall.
Fu Ye regarded him calmly. “So—you’re Huang Tianyi’s strategist?”
He Yan said, “If you’re going to kill us, just do it. We followed our sovereign to pursue a grand, unmatched endeavor. We long ago cast aside any fear of death.”
Fu Ye replied softly, “Is that so? Since you chose to risk your life entering my Jiantai City, I suppose you were ready for any outcome.”
His voice was light, almost gentle, and as lovely as his face—truly as radiant as summer flowers under the blazing sun. His tone sounded so innocent, his expression so striking, that when he turned to the black-armored officer who’d kicked He Yan earlier and said, “Lord Li, I’m not skilled at interrogation. I’ll leave the prisoners to you,” it sent a ripple of unease through the room—an unexpected, almost chilling feeling.
Then Fu Ye looked at Ankang Prince Fu Xian. “You mentioned earlier—who were those retainers you spoke of?”
At the door, the retainers in question had long since collapsed to the floor, paralyzed with fear.
Outside, the gathered masses watched as the Minister of Justice and other senior officials arrived in their carriages, and a storm of whispers swept through the crowd.
The Justice Minister and his colleagues hurried up to Fu Ye and listened as he explained what had transpired.
Fu Ye said, “We’re in extraordinary times, which makes it all the more important to uphold the law. How these people are to be tried and punished—that is your duty, gentlemen.”
The Minister of Justice and the others bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Fu Ye rose and said, “Now that the capital is on high alert, you’ll also need to find out how these men slipped in. Anyone involved is to be dealt with strictly according to the law of Great Zhou. When the investigation is complete, post the verdicts throughout the capital, and report them to the other provinces as well. Someone dares try to sow disorder in our realm—let this serve as a warning to every subject of Great Zhou.”
As he spoke, his gaze fell once more on He Yan.
A moment ago, He Yan had seen only frailty and beauty. But now—now it felt like staring at a jade-faced judge from hell.
“When the interrogations are done,” Fu Ye added, “parade them through the provinces in a prison cart.”
He Yan: “!!”
This—this was meant to send a message, to strike terror into the hearts of Red Lotus Society followers. And with so many loyal subjects across the land, how could they expect to survive such a tour of Great Zhou’s cities?
Such a ruthless beauty!
“My sovereign will conquer Jiantai City—sooner or later!”
Fu Ye’s face remained impassive, but those elegant brows drew together ever so slightly, a hint of cold menace in his expression. “Maybe so. But you won’t be around to see it.”
With that, he rose and stepped outside. The blazing sun beat down, but an attendant held a golden parasol embroidered with sun, moon, and star patterns to shade him. The grandeur of his procession—this wasn’t a mere prince. He might as well have been emperor already.
Fu Ye returned to the palace and began drafting a memorial to report all that had happened to Fu Huang. But before he could finish, Grand Chancellor Xie hurried over from the neighboring Changqing Palace where he’d been resting. “Your Highness, His Majesty has left the main force—he’s gone ahead with his guards to the front lines at Tiger Gorge Pass.”
Fu Ye said nothing for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his tone was steadier than in the past. He simply nodded. “Understood.”
Eunuch Qin, wracked with anxiety, barely ate all day, looking older by the hour as he drifted into distracted silences.
Fu Ye was anxious too—but he was determined not to let it show.
Officials came and went from Chun Chao Hall around the clock. The trials of He Yan and the others proceeded swiftly, and the verdicts were prepared for reporting to Fu Huang. The Secretariat drafted notices to send across the empire. Before long, night fell.
It wasn’t until after ten that the hall finally quieted down. Fu Ye had a late supper, washed up in haste, and lay down in the early hours.
But once he lay down, sleep wouldn’t come.
His mind raced: Tiger Gorge is a thousand miles from here. What’s happening there right now?
This first battle—it’s critical.
Fu Huang bore far greater pressure than Huang Tianyi ever would. Fu Ye hardly dared imagine what he must be facing.
He drifted in and out of restless sleep, plagued by nightmares—sometimes of the capital, sometimes of the battlefield. He awoke clammy with cold sweat, dozed, woke again. The cycle repeated until dawn.
By morning, he was dazed and hollow-eyed. He forced himself to stay busy, but his heart wouldn’t settle. Now and then, a sudden wave of sorrow would well up in him, fierce and uncontrollable, and for a moment, he’d feel like crying.
But every time, he held it back.
But the battle report still hadn’t arrived.
That night, Fu Ye couldn’t sleep.
He knew he wasn’t the only one—no doubt Chancellor Xie and the others were wide awake as well.
The whole capital—no, the entire Great Zhou—was waiting for word from the front.
That day, the skies opened up. Rain poured down, lightning flashed, and thunder cracked as heavy clouds choked the heavens. The palace was so dark they had to light candles even in broad daylight. Rainwater streamed from the eaves in sheets. Qingyuan Palace was deathly silent—no one dared say a word.
After finishing his official duties, Fu Ye wrapped himself in Fu Huang’s great cloak and leaned against the bed, lost in thought.
Through the haze of his worry, he thought he heard footsteps outside. His heart jolted like a sudden shock of lightning. He shot upright, flung aside the gauzy red bed curtains, and strained to see. Then he heard Eunuch Qin calling out, breathless:
“Your Highness! Your Highness!”
Fu Ye saw him burst in, so eager he stumbled on the threshold. He nearly fell, but Shuangfu at the door caught him just in time.
Before Qin even spoke, Fu Ye’s hands were already trembling.
Then Qin, drenched from head to toe, raised the report high and beamed. “Good news! Good news! A great victory at Fangzhou! His Majesty has taken Fangzhou back!”
Fu Ye: “!!”
It felt like a wave crashed over him—hot, aching, and overwhelming. Tears welled up before he even realized it, and he hastily reached out his hand.
Qin handed him the report. Fu Ye broke the seal and read it, his eyes flying over the words. When he reached the end, he collapsed back onto the bed. The tears streamed down his face in torrents, as though they’d never stop.
He wished for peace across the realm, and may there never again be war.
The Great Zhou needed this victory so desperately.
Fu Ye rose at once and ordered the news announced across the empire.
The capital was the first to learn. The word spread from the morning markets, and, as if by miracle, the heavy rain that had fallen for days suddenly stopped. By the time the sun climbed high, the entire city was awash with joy, alive with cheers and celebration. The city roared with happiness!
