When Cui Ye returned to the Eastern Palace, surrounded by attendants, Zhang Shuogong waved the others away. They bowed nervously and quietly withdrew.
Cui Ye watched their retreating figures with an expressionless face.
A sudden, drastic change in treatment could violently shake a person’s mindset. The so-called “petty man intoxicated by success” or “pauper turned rich overnight”—that was how it happened.
No one was born with everything. When that moment of sudden gain arrived, some people would lose composure briefly before regaining calm. Others would never recover their balance.
Cui Ye, however, was an oddity.
He was neither.
Human hierarchies did not truly connect. Even standing at the very top of the pyramid, he still found everyone else… noisy.
Even in silence, they were noisy.
Cui Ye: Annoying. So irritating.
…
From a certain perspective, he was not much different from his father and forefathers.
None of them were particularly normal.
Carrying the lingering scent of incense from the Great Xiangguo Temple, Cui Ye strode toward his chambers. Yu Fulan stood outside, lost in thought. Seeing him return, Yu Fulan opened his mouth, then ultimately forced an awkward smile.
Cui Ye: “……”
He gave him a suspicious look. He could already sense that something unexpected had happened. But he was no fortune teller—he could not divine the truth.
After a brief pause, he continued inside as usual.
Only after he entered did Zhang Shuogong approach Yu Fulan. “What is it?”
Yu Fulan felt miserable. He shook his head silently, signaling him not to ask. Just wait—they would soon know the outcome from whatever happened inside.
Meng Xizhao sat with a teacup in hand, taking a sip. He looked up at Cui Ye, who stood by the gauze curtain, unmoving for a long time.
Meng Xizhao said nothing. He lowered his head, took another sip, then slowly turned to glance at the two wedding robes hanging behind him.
Cui Ye: “…………”
Caught red-handed, Cui Ye felt a flicker of nervousness.
But his ability to regulate his emotions was exceptional. Even in such an embarrassing, almost desperate situation, he maintained a perfectly composed expression. Aside from a slightly prolonged silence, he showed no sign of losing control.
After a moment, he walked forward calmly and sat across from Meng Xizhao.
“This was meant to be a surprise,” he said.
Meng Xizhao replied, “The surprise is for me. The delight is for you.”
Cui Ye: “…Then you must first grant my wish before I can feel delight.”
Meng Xizhao looked at him, fingers lightly tracing the rim of his teacup. He turned again to glance at the luxurious robes.
“When you had the Bureau of Attire embroider two sets of men’s wedding robes, did none of them faint from shock?”
From that single sentence, Cui Ye already knew how this conversation would go.
He had prepared himself—but hearing it still brought disappointment.
Lowering his gaze, he answered, “Yu Fulan handled it. I do not know their reaction.”
The air grew slightly tense.
Meng Xizhao blinked at him.
Cui Ye did not look up.
Then, suddenly, Meng Xizhao said:
“Have the Directorate of Astronomy select an auspicious date.”
Cui Ye froze.
Then he jerked his head up.
Meng Xizhao was startled by him and froze for a moment, then continued in a softer voice:
“…And then invite my parents into the palace, perform the rites before Heaven and our elders. In that way, you and I will be properly wed.”
As for who would be the husband and who the wife—that was something each person could decide for themselves. There was no need to spell it out.
Meng Xizhao calmly told himself so.
The light in Cui Ye’s eyes dimmed bit by bit. After a moment of silence, he said, “You should know that this is not all I want.”
Meng Xizhao pressed his lips together. “I know.”
“Does it matter so much to you—whether it is proclaimed to the world, whether it is acknowledged by all under heaven?”
Cui Ye answered without hesitation, “It matters very much.”
“…Really?”
Meng Xizhao had never seen Cui Ye display any vanity before.
Cui Ye looked at him. “I want to stand openly with you. I want no petty people to ever dare arrange marriages for you again. I want to give you what no one else can.”
His gaze was deep, his voice low.
Yet Meng Xizhao’s first thought was—he actually dared to call my mother a ‘petty person.’ That takes guts.
…
Noticing the strange look in Meng Xizhao’s eyes, Cui Ye frowned slightly. After a moment, Meng Xizhao came back to himself, gave a light cough, and sighed.
“There is no need to rush being open and aboveboard. We will have our time—and it will last a long, long while. As for those arranging marriages for me, there is only my mother. Once I tell her that you and I have already pledged ourselves in private, she will not force me to marry anyone else.”
“As for giving me what no one else can…” He paused, then smiled mischievously, resting his chin on his hand. “I already have it. The Crown Prince, the heir to the nation, the soon-to-be emperor—and the best lover in the world. They are all mine.”
Cui Ye usually loved hearing such words. This time, his expression softened slightly, though he remained quiet.
Meng Xizhao blinked, then straightened his posture. “Do you know what I want?”
Cui Ye replied flatly, “You want me not to cause you trouble.”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
“Beyond that,” he continued, “I want us to go forward smoothly. The world now—one could call it peaceful, yet it is not entirely so. My Meng family stands in a blaze of prosperity, but we have countless enemies in court. Once you ascend the throne, my family will be safe. As long as they do not commit crimes themselves, no one in this world will be able to harm them.”
“That is my first wish—and the reason I entered officialdom. Now that it is fulfilled, I will not leave, because I have a second wish.”
“I want you to be well. I want your name to go down in history. To arrive in glory, and to depart in triumph. What lies between you and me has never involved a third person. I believe that whether or not the world acknowledges us, you will stay by my side. Do you believe in me?”
Cui Ye said quietly, “That is not entirely fair.”
“How so?”
“You know I would never say ‘no’ to you, yet you still lead me into this trap.”
Meng Xizhao paused, then smiled. “That is true. I owe you much. But the days ahead are long—you may collect your due from me slowly.”
Whether he would actually pay it back… that depended on his mood.
Cui Ye seemed to read his thoughts. Looking at that slightly sly expression, he could not help but smile faintly.
Seeing him finally smile, Meng Xizhao relaxed. He stood up, intending to walk over and give him a quick kiss as a reward—but as his gaze drifted to the two wedding robes behind him, he unconsciously turned and stared at them again.
They really were beautiful.
He murmured softly, “Marriage… I never thought I would have such a day.”
Cui Ye also stood and stepped behind him. The vitality that had gradually returned to him now showed in his form—once thin, he could now envelop Meng Xizhao entirely.
He, too, looked at the robes and let out a soft laugh. “You just promised to perform the marriage rites with me. Do you regret it already?”
Meng Xizhao scoffed lightly. Leaning back, he rested against Cui Ye’s chest. Cui Ye wrapped his arms around him. Neither spoke again.
They both gazed at the empty robes, as if imagining the same scene.
After an unknown amount of time, Meng Xizhao suddenly said, “The Empress’s tomb is about to be restored. Why don’t you take me to see her?”
Cui Ye did not answer, but Meng Xizhao felt the arm around him tighten slightly—startled, perhaps—before relaxing again.
After a moment, Cui Ye responded softly, “Alright.”
As if unaware of the shift in his emotions, Meng Xizhao continued casually, “Since we are going anyway… what do you think about moving Empress Xie out of the imperial tomb?”
“She never wanted to be recorded in the Cui family genealogy, nor did she wish to be buried with Cui Yan. You could choose a good place for her… or perhaps send her back to the Xie family, to be buried in their ancestral grounds. Maybe then, she could once again become the young lady she was before she married.”
Meng Xizhao spoke carefully.
After waiting for a while without a response, he straightened and turned to look at Cui Ye.
The latter remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “The Duke of Fangling would not agree.”
Even in a relatively open society, there was no custom of burying a married daughter in her natal family’s ancestral tomb. Without even thinking, Cui Ye assumed the Xie family would refuse.
Meng Xizhao fell quiet, then said, “At least ask. I know your relationship with the Duke is… complicated. But he is still the Empress’s father. You miss her—and so does he.”
Cui Ye pressed his lips together. After a moment, he turned and left.
＊
On the eve of the Qingming Festival, the Crown Prince announced that he would visit the imperial mausoleum to pay respects to the late Empress Xie. He would be away for two days, and during that time, state affairs would be handled jointly by the chancellors and the vice administrators.
Since taking on regency duties, the Crown Prince had been tirelessly diligent—more so even than his grandfather, who prided himself on benevolence. Now that he was finally taking a short leave, people were almost relieved.
Go, go. The Crown Prince was known for his filial devotion—visiting his mother was only proper.
…
They had already begun preparing for the state funeral in advance. Since that was the case, the coronation rites would also have to be prepared at the same time. The most important part, of course, was the new imperial garments. The Ministry of Imperial Attire was currently working through the night under lamplight; they had to prepare the general structure of the robes ahead of time, leaving the dragon embroidery unfinished. The dragon’s eyes were deliberately left unstitched. Only after the imperial mourning period ended would they return to finish the eyes, as a sign of respect and reverence for the late emperor.
Meng Xi Zhao did not have much opinion about this kind of formalistic ritual. He only felt a little surprised when he heard the garments were already completed—after all, it had only been a little over a month. From the records he had seen before, a properly made dragon robe normally required at least three months of meticulous work.
Since Cui Ye would not be back for the moment, Meng Xi Zhao decided to go take a look on his behalf first.
Yu Fu Lan hesitated.
“Uh…”
Meng Xi Zhao frowned. “What? I’m not allowed to see it?”
“Uh……” Yu Fu Lan hesitated again.
Meng Xi Zhao narrowed his eyes.
Yu Fu Lan would never act on his own authority. Since he was hesitating like this, it could only mean it was Cui Ye’s order.
When something behaved abnormally, there was always something wrong behind it. Meng Xi Zhao had not originally insisted on seeing it, but now that he saw Yu Fu Lan’s reaction, he felt he absolutely had to go.
The Ministry of Imperial Attire was not far. Giving Yu Fu Lan a sidelong glance—who looked as stiff as if he were being dragged to execution—Meng Xi Zhao turned and headed straight there.
Yu Fu Lan could only follow behind him in distress.
When they arrived at the Ministry of Imperial Attire and entered the room where the ceremonial robes were stored, the embroidering maids, who rarely saw high officials, immediately bowed in panic and withdrew.
After they left, Meng Xi Zhao finally stepped forward toward the racks.
Two garments.
One was a deep crimson robe, slightly larger. The other was a darker red, slightly smaller.
Imperial coronation robes had strict regulations—they must be black. Neither of these two could be used for the enthronement ceremony.
But they could be used for an imperial wedding.
Meng Xi Zhao looked at the two luxurious garments. He slowly stepped closer. The craftsmanship of the palace embroiderers was beyond question; the dragon patterns looked so vivid it seemed as if they might leap off the fabric in the next moment.
Perhaps because no one had ever made wedding robes like these before, the embroiderers were unsure what to place on the smaller set. A phoenix was out of the question, so they instead used the Four Symbols and qilin motifs.
Meng Xi Zhao thought to himself that these were likely the most beautiful clothes he had ever seen.
He stood in silence for a long time. The silence grew so heavy that Yu Fu Lan behind him felt his heart nearly leap into his throat.
Then Meng Xi Zhao suddenly turned around. After walking back to Yu Fu Lan’s side, he said calmly:
“Bring these two sets of clothes back to the Eastern Palace.”
Yu Fu Lan tried to salvage the situation. “Lord Meng, this… this is against protocol…”
Meng Xi Zhao looked at him without expression.
Yu Fu Lan immediately gave in. “…I will personally escort them.”
Only then did Meng Xi Zhao withdraw his gaze and leave.