A woolen gold-embroidered carpet, several zhang wide, was spread out across the snow-covered ground of the Plum Garden.

Behind the carved glass screens stood red plum blossoms laden full of snow. Emperor Hongyou sat solemnly upon his imperial throne, smiling as he admired with the surrounding envoys the rare treasures offered to the palace by the foreign emissaries from the kingdom of Loulan.

Loulan’s gold and silver wares had long been famed throughout the land. This year, in addition to these, they also brought spices and gemstones transported from the far western regions—filling several large chests and cases to the brim.

As the chests were opened one by one, the dazzling gold radiated so brilliantly that it seemed to dye the entire snowy ground in its glow.

Yet, in comparison, the final chest appeared rather plain.

When opened, it revealed nothing more than some coarsely made dairy products. According to the envoy, they had been brought all the way to the capital from a thousand miles away, with great effort made along the journey to keep them fresh.

Emperor Hongyou, however, did not seem particularly interested.

He nodded with a smile, his gaze resting only momentarily on the box of dairy goods before he turned to the envoy and said cheerfully: “To have traveled such a distance to enter the capital and celebrate Our birthday—what thoughtful effort.”

The envoy immediately launched into a long, flowery speech filled with praises and compliments.

Emperor Hongyou listened with a gentle smile and granted him a seat.

As the gathering carried on with light conversation and laughter, Empress Jiang, sitting to the side, spoke with a smile: “I heard that earlier on the way, the envoy encountered Huining? His Majesty and I were unaware—when did Huining learn the Loulan tongue?”

As she spoke, she turned her beaming face toward Zhao Chu, who sat not far away.

The envoy had been received by attendants of the Empress. When they first led them into the Plum Garden, they had already reported the events along the way to Empress Jiang.

Now, with spring warmth on her face, the Empress smiled, while Zhao Chu remained cold and indifferent. Upon the imperial throne, Emperor Hongyou’s brow lifted as he turned his gaze toward Zhao Chu.

“Huining knows how to speak Loulan?” There was a trace of surprise in his expression—but beneath that surprise was an icy suspicion, veiled in measured probing.

When had Zhao Chu learned Loulan? He had no idea. Nor did he know what Zhao Chu could have had to say in an unexpected encounter with the Loulan envoy.

His gaze settled on Zhao Chu’s face.

But that daughter of his, whose expression was always unreadable, still showed no ripple of emotion.

She raised her eyes and met his gaze directly: “I happened to study a few phrases. There are many things Father is unaware of.”

Emperor Hongyou paused slightly.

With all the foreign envoys present, Zhao Chu’s tone was indeed a blow to his authority.

But under the scrutiny of so many, as a benevolent ruler and model to all nations, he could not scold or punish Zhao Chu in public—lest he tarnish his own reputation.

He looked at Zhao Chu for a moment, then forced the stiffness into a smile and said: “It is I who have been too preoccupied with affairs of state to care properly for you children.”

Then turning to the Empress, he added with a smile: “I feel truly regretful. Empress, why not select a few sets of head ornaments and fine fabrics as My token of apology to Huining?”

The Empress smiled and nodded, about to respond, when Zhao Chu’s voice rang out again from her seat below. “No need for such trouble,” she said casually. “Just grant me the milk pastries the envoy brought, Father.”

Emperor Hongyou turned his head to look at Zhao Chu.

That sudden remark—was it all for that unimpressive box of food? He did not know Zhao Chu’s tastes well, but something so out of place... could it be...

He frowned and shifted his gaze to the chest of dairy products.

Just as he hesitated, about to probe further, he saw Zhao Chu lean back lazily and say: “Your daughter (NT: ér chén, humble self reference : ‘your daughter subject’) couldn’t possibly use that much. Father can take some out to examine and then bestow the rest to me.”

What did she mean by that?!

Emperor Hongyou abruptly raised his eyes and stared coldly at Zhao Chu.

Was she suggesting that he was suspicious of her? How highly she must think of herself! The Loulan envoy had come all this way, and she—a mere girl from the inner court—spoke a few phrases of Loulan? Hardly enough for him to harbor doubts!

His chest rose and fell twice. Under the watchful eyes of the gathered envoys, he forced himself to swallow the words that had risen to his lips.

“Huining has always had a sharp tongue,” he said with a forced smile. “If you’re so eager to try them, then they’re all yours. But let’s not speak of ‘examining’—the Loulan lord is still present. Wouldn’t such words be terribly discourteous?”

Zhao Chu rose slowly and calmly, her eyes lowered as she spoke with ease: “Many thanks, Father.” (NT: inner Zhao Chu : \（＾○＾）/)

Emperor Hongyou waved his hand with a strained smile and turned his gaze away from her.

So be it... After all, she was that venomous woman’s child—how could she turn out well? I had raised her until now, and in terms of conscience, he had done right by Heaven and Earth.

Just then, another palace attendant came rushing frantically into the Plum Garden.

Emperor Hongyou was already in poor spirits, and seeing someone so flustered only made him angrier. “What matter causes such panic?”

He wore a dark expression, watching as the palace man hastily saluted the assembled crowd and then bowed low before the throne, whispering a few words to him.

Emperor Hongyou’s expression turned even uglier.

*

The suanni in the Imperial Menagerie was dead!

Upon hearing this, Fang Linyuan was also struck with shock.

How could this happen? Just two days ago, when they delivered the exotic beasts into the menagerie, they and the palace staff had checked them one by one. The creatures had been exceptionally well cared for along the way, and the Southern envoys were exceedingly cautious—how could one suddenly die?

What the palace attendant said next was even more shocking.

“They say it was shot dead by the Third Prince with a single arrow!” he reported. “His Majesty just left the Plum Garden and went to the imperial study—he’s summoned you to the palace at once, General!”

Having received the imperial order, Fang Linyuan turned his horse around immediately and followed the palace messenger toward the imperial city.

It had begun with the Third Prince, who on a whim went to the Imperial Menagerie to view the newly arrived exotic beasts.

These beasts were meant as birthday tributes to His Majesty; for the prince to privately view them was already a breach of protocol. Yet the Third Prince had arrived with a grand entourage of attendants and friends and insisted on entering. The menagerie’s staff dared not refuse and thus opened the gates for him.

Among the many beasts, the elephant was too clumsy, the peacocks too dull. What won the prince’s heart most was the golden suanni—its wild mane, majestic form, and muscular strength.

The prince lingered long outside the suanni’s cage, and under the constant flattery of those around him, he demanded the beast be led out for his amusement.

But the suanni was man-eating! The menagerie staff all fell to their knees, refusing outright to obey the command.

What followed was the prince’s inexplicable rage. He stormed forward and personally opened the iron cage, attempting to drag out the fierce creature.

The suanni roared furiously. In a panic, the Third Prince drew his bow and shot an arrow straight into its gaping maw.

The suanni collapsed on the spot—dead.

When Fang Linyuan heard this, his head began to throb.

The Third Prince, Zhao Jin, had always been impulsive and temperamental—but to dare something like this? These beasts were not only part of the Emperor’s birthday celebration, but also diplomatic gifts presented to Great Xuan by foreign envoys. Even aside from the suanni’s immense value, with foreign diplomats still in the capital, how was the Emperor supposed to explain this?

As he pondered, the palace messenger hesitated and said, “General… when you enter the palace today… if His Majesty reprimands you, we ask you to accept the imperial will.”

Fang Linyuan paused. “What?”

The attendant then continued, “The Third Prince has already been sent back to the palace. According to His Highness…”

He looked at Fang Linyuan, hesitated for a moment, then stammered:

“His Highness says… it was due to a mishap in the beast transport by the Sixteenth Guard, which led the suanni to go berserk and attack.”

Fang Linyuan’s brows knit into a tight frown.

What utter nonsense. The suanni was a wild beast—no different than a tiger or leopard. How could it be treated like a pet for amusement? Zhao Jin being attacked by the beast was entirely to be expected. How could they now claim it suddenly turned violent?

More importantly, the beast had been delivered to the menagerie two full days ago. What did that have to do with the Sixteenth Guard?

He turned a hard look toward the palace attendant but hadn’t yet spoken when the man offered a flattering smile and lowered his voice in consolation.

“Don’t be angry, General,” he said. “The Imperial Menagerie is managed by the inner court guards—His Majesty’s own men. With the foreign envoys still in the capital, if anything goes wrong, we certainly cannot let the blame fall on His Majesty or any of the princes.”

His words were plain enough. Even a fool could understand what he meant.

The death of the beast—could neither be blamed on the prince’s stupidity nor on mismanagement by the palace staff.

They were desperate for a scapegoat. And the most convenient one… was the Sixteenth Guard that had transported the beast.

*

As he neared the imperial city, Fang Linyuan gradually began to understand.

The imperial edict was clear—he could not defy it. The Emperor had specifically sent a palace official to explain things to him, making it clear that His Majesty knew who was taking the fall for the imperial family.

There was no escaping punishment. A demotion, flogging, or a salary reduction—all were the “grace” he now had to receive.

As he reached the gates of the palace, Fang Linyuan felt a calm he had never known before.

To serve as an official on the frontier was one thing; to serve within the capital was quite another. Out there, victory and defeat were clear-cut, right and wrong easily distinguished. But the capital—it was a murky pool, impossible to see through.

That someone had been sent ahead to deliver the message in advance was already a tremendous show of favor from His Majesty. He ought to feel fortunate.

And yet, at this moment, the only small comfort Fang Linyuan had was that his rank and status were high enough for him to bear this alone.

At least it wouldn’t implicate those young soldiers in the Sixteenth Guard—those fervent, loyal youths who truly believed His Majesty favored and appreciated them.

For the rest of the way, Fang Linyuan said nothing.

At the palace gates, he dismounted under the guidance of a palace attendant. He passed through the broad, level front halls of the imperial city, made his way past the palace gates, and continued all the way to the Imperial Study.

But just then, a faint crashing sound echoed from ahead.

Fang Linyuan looked up and saw a row of palace servants standing outside the study, all with heads bowed low.

The great doors to the hall were tightly shut, and muffled voices—an argument, it seemed—could be heard within.

Fang Linyuan paused slightly in surprise.

The attendant leading the way was startled as well. He hurried forward and asked the attendants at the door, “What’s going on?”

The palace man was so frightened he was on the verge of tears.

“His Majesty was reprimanding the Third Prince,” he said with a drawn face, “but for some reason, the Fifth Princess suddenly barged in from the rear palace! We were all ordered out. It seems the Fifth Princess started arguing with His Majesty, and now no one dares go in!”

The guide-palace-attendant was shocked: “Wasn’t the Fifth Princess enjoying the snow in the Plum Garden?”

“Yes!” the man said. “That’s exactly why His Majesty is angry! The Fifth Princess suddenly came to the study without permission, interrupting the snow-viewing banquet. Now the Third Prince’s slaying of the exotic beast is known to all the foreign envoys!”

The guiding attendant looked about to collapse in fright.

Just then, a chill gust of wind brushed past them.

He turned—and saw that the Marquis of Anping, who had been silent all this while, suddenly stepped past him and strode straight toward the Imperial Study.

“General! General, wait—!”

The attendant rushed to stop him.

But it was already too late.

Fang Linyuan marched up and pushed open the heavy palace doors with a raised hand.

The bright daylight outside, reflecting off the snow-covered ground, streamed into the room through the open doors.

Smash!

At the same moment, Fang Linyuan saw a porcelain object shatter on the floor—and upon the high steps of the throne dais, the Emperor raising his arm high.

A heavy slap landed hard on Zhao Chu’s face.

“You disgraceful wretch!”

*

Zhao Chu knew that Fang Linyuan must have been startled.

When he pushed open the doors, Emperor Hongyou had just lifted his hand to strike. Zhao Chu didn’t try to dodge; he wasn’t afraid of the shame or the pain. His expression blank, eyes lowered, he took the slap without a word. The force of it turned his head aside—just in time for him to see Fang Linyuan.

That dust-covered young general, still dressed in the crimson-and-gold qilin-patterned robe worn to greet foreign envoys.

Those colors suited him especially well. He had always been radiant and bright, the kind of person who shone like sunlight—made to wear such bold, blazing colors.

But now his eyes were suddenly glistening with tears.

His rims turned red as he stared straight at Zhao Chu, looking utterly pitiful.

He watched as Fang Linyuan stepped forward and knelt directly before Emperor Hongyou—the loyal and respectful minister who had never once disobeyed imperial command. And today, in this very hall, he raised his voice toward the Emperor: “This matter has nothing whatsoever to do with Her Highness the Princess. I plead Your Majesty to reconsider!”

Emperor Hongyou’s chest heaved with rage. “What—my own daughter dares to meddle in state affairs, and I may not discipline her?”

The young general’s hands, pressed to the floor, trembled—but his voice remained steady and firm: “Your Majesty! If what Your Majesty refers to is the matter of the Third Prince mistakenly killing the exotic beast, then forgive me for speaking plainly—this is a domestic affair between Your Majesty and Your Highness the Prince. As Your Majesty’s daughter and Third Prince’s sister, it is only natural that she would try to offer advice.”

The Emperor gave a cold laugh and swept his arm across the table, knocking books, scrolls, and inkstone flying.

Zhao Chu subtly shifted, stepping forward just enough to block two shards of inkstone flying toward him.

“Then what if it concerns your Sixteenth Guard?”

Fang Linyuan drew in a deep breath. “The Sixteenth Guard belongs to you, Your Majesty,” he said. “All under Heaven serve the king. The Sixteenth Guard does not belong to me. They and I alike are simply Your Majesty’s humble subjects.”

Emperor Hongyou’s chest rose and fell furiously, but Fang Linyuan’s words left him speechless.

Fang Linyuan continued: “The exotic beasts were safely delivered to the Imperial Menagerie two days ago. Every crate and animal was inspected by the menagerie’s officers upon entry. Since then, the Sixteenth Guard’s only duty has been to receive the Loulan and other foreign envoys. I do not understand, Your Majesty, in what way the Sixteenth Guard is implicated.”

The Emperor understood exactly what he was saying.

Zhao Chu had already made the matter public. Fang Linyuan now stood firm, refusing to take the blame.

There was nothing more the Emperor could do. In his rage, he realized for the first time that this young general under his command had a sharp tongue to match his strength.

But Zhao Chu knew—Fang Linyuan’s tongue wasn’t all that sharp.

They left the palace together, and all the way until they entered the Marquis’s carriage, Fang Linyuan said not a word.

Only the hand resting on his knee wouldn’t stop shaking.

As the carriage wheels began to turn, Zhao Chu finally spoke.

He turned slightly and softened his tone. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Zhao Jin’s killing of the beast today was something I had already calculated. Now that the southern officials are about to depart, I plan to—”

But Fang Linyuan suddenly interrupted him. “Did it hurt?”

His voice trembled. And Zhao Chu’s heart trembled with it.

“No,” Zhao Chu answered, swiftly and firmly, almost before Fang Linyuan had finished.

Fang Linyuan turned to look at him.

The light inside the carriage was dim, but Zhao Chu could still see that Fang Linyuan’s eyes were red.

And the moment their eyes met, the rims turned even redder.

Then, he saw Fang Linyuan slowly raise a hand—as though he wanted to touch the cheek that had just been slapped.

His movement was so gentle, so careful, that Zhao Chu felt pity rising in his chest, threatening to spill out.

He lowered his head and grasped Fang Linyuan’s wrist, guiding the half-raised hand to his own cheek as if to confirm something.

That side of his face still burned hot from the slap.

Though Zhao Chu didn’t feel it much himself, Fang Linyuan clearly cared deeply. His palm barely touched Zhao Chu’s cheek, and he wouldn’t even rub it—as if afraid even the slightest motion would hurt him.

"How could it not hurt?" Fang Linyuan murmured softly, as if talking to himself.

Zhao Chu let out a quiet, soothing laugh. He was just about to speak—to tell Fang Linyuan that such pain was nothing at all, just a slap, not even enough to count as humiliation to him.

But then, he heard Fang Linyuan say something even more quietly. “…I want to hold you.”

*

Clearly, the one who needed a hug more right now was Fang Linyuan.

He seemed to have lost some sense of reason due to a deeply sinking emotion. And as it happened, Zhao Chu—faced with his expression—no longer had the strength to keep up his usual restraint.

He raised a hand and slowly pulled Fang Linyuan into his arms.

The soft, delicate brocade robe brushed against the fitted, lean sleeves of the military uniform. Beneath the layers of silk, two tall and tight bodies gradually leaned into each other.

The moment Fang Linyuan was pulled into his embrace, he buried his face into Zhao Chu’s shoulder—quiet, low, yet unusually obedient. As if he’d nestled right into the softest corner of Zhao Chu’s heart.

A moment later, he heard Fang Linyuan’s voice, muffled and low, rise from where his face was pressed against Zhao Chu’s neck.

“I should be the one comforting you,” he said. “You took that hit from your father because of me.”

That man—Zhao Chu could hardly call him “father.”

He cared nothing for him, even less for a slap exchanged in the ceaseless games of power and politics.

But now, holding this person in his arms—how could he think of anything else?

“It’s not your fault.” He lifted a hand, one arm still wrapped around Fang Linyuan’s shoulders, the other slowly stroking down the nape of his neck and along his spine. “It’s my fault for not telling you beforehand.”

“How could he hit you?” Fang Linyuan said again. “It was Zhao Jin who clearly did wrong.”

…Idiot. Why are you still getting caught up in fairness when you’re dealing with wolves?

“They’ll pay the price,” Zhao Chu said, his voice gentler than ever, like telling a bedtime story beneath gauzy curtains. “Just not today. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Fang Linyuan shook his head, as if to tell him he wasn’t afraid.

But then, his back and shoulders stiffened—as though he suddenly realized something. His movement stopped, frozen in Zhao Chu’s arms.

Then Zhao Chu saw him slowly—awkwardly—lift his head. Those damp, glistening eyes met his from just inches away, a flush of flustered realization blooming in their depths like someone waking from a dream.

“I… I was just worried in the moment…” he mumbled, trying to push himself up off Zhao Chu’s chest. “I know you’re a man. I didn’t mean…”

Zhao Chu had only just gotten halfway through his “bedtime story.” He had no intention of letting it end with awkward retreat.

The hand resting on Fang Linyuan’s nape pressed down with a touch of force, pulling him right back into his embrace.

“I know,” Zhao Chu said. “You’ve never seen me as a woman.”

This time, the face pressed against his chest seemed to flush even warmer. For some reason, Fang Linyuan didn’t try to resist anymore.

After a moment of hesitation, his muffled voice came again from Zhao Chu’s arms. “We’re both men… so this… is it really okay?” he asked.

In the part of the carriage he couldn’t see, Zhao Chu’s lips curled faintly, his lowered lashes flickering with something hard to name.

There was still a clear red mark on his cheek. The slap, struck by a grown man without restraint, had even split the corner of his mouth.

That smear of blood painted his soft smile with a beauty sharp as a demon’s.

“It’s fine,” he said. “You’re just comforting me.”

 

--

Author's Note:

Zhao Chu: I actually wanted a little more… comforting.

Fang Linyuan: ???

 

Translator : DarNan