That night, a biting wind blew for hours, and by the second half of the night, snow began to fall outside the window.

The cold wind drove the snow against the paper panes, making a soft rustling sound.

In a hazy dream, Fang Linyuan was startled awake by that very sound. Half-conscious, he opened his eyes and saw the wind and snow howling outside the window.

The heavy snow overnight had already piled thick along the lattice of the windows, and still more flakes drifted through the faint twilight, falling layer upon layer.

In that dim light, he saw Zhao Chu reclining on the carved daybed by the window.

He was sound asleep, his jet-black hair cascading down the pillow, a thin embroidered blanket draped over the white sleeping robes, and his long lashes cast faint shadows under the early morning glow.

He had been sleeping here these past few days.

But Fang Linyuan, feverish and dazed for two days straight, only now realized Zhao Chu had spent the nights under such a thin cover.

Though the floor-heated kang bed in the room was well stoked, it had been a night of wind and snow, and that daybed stood right next to the window—cold air must have seeped in long ago.

Zhao Chu had always been afraid of the cold. On a snowy night like this, he might easily fall ill.

Fang Linyuan sat up.

His forehead now felt cool and dry—probably the medicine had fully worn off. But Fang Linyuan wasn’t paying attention to that.

Just as he sat up, he saw Zhao Chu’s brows twitch slightly, as though he might be waking.

This man’s sleep was too light!

Fang Linyuan quickly froze.

He kept his eyes trained carefully on Zhao Chu until his features smoothed out again and his breathing returned to a steady rhythm—only then did he quietly climb out of bed.

He picked up his own blanket and, barefoot, walked over to Zhao Chu’s daybed.

Zhao Chu was breathtaking—under the morning light, with shadows of the snow flickering across his face, his features were untouched by the cold, and instead seemed even more captivating, as if he were a flawless jade statue standing calmly against a backdrop of wind and snow.

Fang Linyuan carefully unfolded the blanket and draped it over Zhao Chu.

But in the very next instant, the calm broke like a storm.

The man lying still suddenly opened his eyes the moment the blanket touched him—like a sword unsheathing in a flash.

A cold light flickered in those deep black peach-blossom eyes, and in the next moment, Fang Linyuan’s wrist was seized in a fierce grip.

He let out a soft gasp—Zhao Chu had caught him completely off guard.

His attention had been entirely on Zhao Chu, thinking him sound asleep. Still holding the blanket, he'd had no time to react before being caught.

Luckily, it only lasted a second.

The moment Zhao Chu’s gaze landed on Fang Linyuan’s face, his eyes cleared, and the hand gripping Fang Linyuan’s wrist instantly loosened, circling his wrist instead as if afraid of hurting him.

“Did I hurt you?”

Zhao Chu sat up abruptly, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

Fang Linyuan’s wrist was throbbing with a dull pain, but he still shook his head. “It’s nothing… I just saw the wind outside and came to bring you a blanket.”

Zhao Chu’s brows had already furrowed before he’d even finished speaking.

“Let me see.”

Zhao Chu sat up and shifted inward on the bed, pulling Fang Linyuan up with him.

By the light of the moon, he examined Fang Linyuan’s wrist.

Even that split-second grip had left a faint red mark. Zhao Chu’s frown deepened, and he held Fang Linyuan’s wrist even more gently.

“I’ve gotten used to reacting like that—I forgot you were here too,” he murmured, starting to get up. “I’ll go get Juansu…”

Fang Linyuan quickly grabbed his arm.

With the loose neckline of his sleepwear and that long, unstyled hair, there was no way he could walk out of the room like that!

But before Fang Linyuan could say anything, Zhao Chu noticed something else.

“You’re not wearing shoes?” he asked.

“I saw you were still asleep and didn’t want to wake you, so I…” Fang Linyuan didn’t finish his sentence before letting out a low cry of surprise.

Zhao Chu had already bent down, cradled him behind the knees, and lifted him entirely into his arms.

Off balance for a moment, Fang Linyuan was carried back onto the daybed.

In the next second, the warm bedding wrapped around him, followed immediately by Zhao Chu’s arms circling him close.

“My fever’s gone, I’m fine—” Fang Linyuan began.

But before he could finish, his back pressed against a firm chest.

Lying together like this… it felt far too intimate.

So early in the morning, when a man’s blood runs hot—Fang Linyuan felt like he was burning hotter than the blanket.

He moved nervously, trying to pull away, not noticing that Zhao Chu had only leaned in to warm his feet.

But after a few moments of limbs shifting and brushing together, Fang Linyuan suddenly froze.

At the same time, a low, muffled grunt sounded behind him.

What was pressed tightly against his back, radiating a heat that couldn’t be ignored, was not just the bedding.

Fang Linyuan’s lower back went stiff—he might as well have been held at knifepoint.

And in that moment, more clearly than ever, he became acutely aware: Zhao Chu was, without a doubt, a man.

The person behind him didn’t move again.

Heat flushed up Fang Linyuan’s ears.

He didn’t know he now resembled a rabbit scared stiff, but a moment later, a soft, helpless sigh came from behind him.

The arm around him relaxed, gently patting him as if to soothe.

The leg that had insistently tried to warm him stopped its pressure too, pulling the blanket over his feet and moving no more.

The blade that was holding him back, though it had retreated slightly, still hadn’t left his body.

Its undeniable heat radiated with fierce, oppressive intensity—an alarming force that could not be ignored.

But with such a narrow daybed, Zhao Chu had no room left to withdraw.

Fang Linyuan had never feared knifes.

Growing up in the military camp—who didn’t carry one? Everyone had their own, coexisting in peace, no one ever minded what weapons others bore.

Until today.

He had felt it—touched it—and even though its owner remained as gentle and accommodating as always...

It was ferocious. It pressed against him arrogantly, brazenly. That was a weapon laid utterly bare in its hostility.

A crisis instinct surged over Fang Linyuan like a reflex.

This was the first time he truly realized—

It wasn’t decorative. It was a lethal weapon meant to pierce through flesh and blood.

*

Morning light had brightened the skies, and the maids filed in one by one, laying out breakfast on the round table.

Fang Linyuan didn’t even dare to glance at Zhao Chu.

Even though Zhao Chu hadn’t done anything to him, despite his fear.

…But embarrassment was embarrassment, no matter what.

He nearly buried his face in the porridge bowl. One of the maids delivering dishes mistook it for enthusiasm, and even asked whether Eunuch Wang should prepare more of today’s porridge.

Fang Linyuan quickly shook his head.

Next to him, after a short silence, Zhao Chu's voice sounded. “No need. His Lordship is feeling better today and has regained some appetite,” he said. “You may go.”

The maid immediately looked pleased and bowed before leaving.

Fang Linyuan sneaked a glance at Zhao Chu from inside his bowl.

Zhao Chu was looking down, picking at his food, as if he hadn’t noticed anything odd.

Fang Linyuan finally exhaled in relief.

But he had barely finished letting out that breath when a pair of chopsticks dropped a piece of boiled greens into his bowl.

“Zhao Jin arrived at the outskirts of the capital last night,” Zhao Chu said in a calm, steady tone.

“But the Grand Canal has frozen over. Their boat got trapped, so they’ve switched to horses over land. By now, they’re probably entering the city.”

His voice was composed, as if the events of the morning had already been forgotten.

…The culprit, acting like nothing ever happened!

Fang Linyuan couldn’t help but glare up at him.

But the moment he looked up, he was met with Zhao Chu’s gaze. Those eyes were filled entirely with him.

“You…”

Before Fang Linyuan could speak, Zhao Chu leaned slightly across the table.

Reaching out across the round table, Zhao Chu gently wiped the corner of Fang Linyuan’s mouth, where a bit of porridge had clung.

“I have to go out later. I’ll have Juansu bring you some storybooks,” he said, still gently wiping.

Fang Linyuan remained silent, just nodding.

Zhao Chu's brows arched slightly, and he smiled.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked with a quiet chuckle, as though among a cascade of blooming osmanthus blossoms. “If there were no reaction—now that would be something to worry about.”

Fang Linyuan froze, finally realizing what Zhao Chu was referring to.

His eyes widened, and a faint flush crept from his neck all the way up to his ears.

…Who’s afraid, huh!!

He… he said something like that at the breakfast table—how utterly improper!

*

A whole night of wind and snow had been enough to freeze the entire stretch of the Grand Canal leading into Shangjing.

Farther south, though the ice wasn’t as thick, it still made it impossible for such large boats to pass.

Thus, Zhao Jin had been woken in the dead of night by an accompanying official, urged to dress, and hastily pushed onto a horse.

“His Majesty is already aware of your Highness’s journey. Time is of the essence. We’re only a few dozen li from the capital now—your Highness must press on!”

So Zhao Jin, after finally getting a rare day of proper rest on the road, had no choice but to spend the night being jostled on horseback.

Behind him, the entire Jiang family was packed into a carriage like livestock—firmly bound and tightly stuffed in.

Including the long-lost Ninth Princess.

Hooves rang down the official road. Battling wind and snow, Zhao Jin finally glimpsed the walls of Shangjing as the sky began to lighten.

They’d arrived at last!

The snow striking his face seemed to lessen. Sunlight filtered dimly through the thick clouds, casting a leaden glow over him.

He turned to look back at the carriage—intact and undisturbed—and at the official riding beside him with a retinue of guards.

A mighty procession. It looked like a grand and glorious path was opening before him.

“This prince still hasn’t remembered—what was your name again?” he asked, in rare good humor, turning toward the official.

The man smiled faintly and was just about to reply, “Replying to your Highness, this humble servant…”

But before he could finish, his expression froze.

His eyes widened, and he pointed ahead with a trembling finger, voice stammering, “...Your Highness!”

Zhao Jin immediately turned to look.

Outside the imperial city, Commander Zhu Song and a group of city guards stood lined up in formation before the gates.

From the direction of the Grand Canal, another figure emerged—an official in ornate robes, wearing a black gauze hat, riding a black horse, with a massive cavalry unit behind him.

They were headed directly toward them.

Who was this now?

As the rider came closer, Zhao Jin made out his appearance.

His robe was embroidered with a dark crane—a uniform reserved for high-ranking eunuchs of the inner court. He was tall, and as he neared, a pale, beardless face came into view.

…Shi Shen? That eunuch from the Eastern Depot?

And the moment he clearly saw his face, Shi Shen raised his hand and slowly gave a hand signal in his direction.

The cavalry, well-trained, immediately split into several groups, charging toward Zhao Jin.

This was clearly an encirclement.

Zhao Jin panicked and was about to order the troops behind him to retreat, but then he heard the official shout loudly, “Be alert! Everyone listen to orders—protect the carriage!”

The sailors behind, in chaotic disarray, didn’t care who was giving the commands; upon hearing the order, they hurriedly scrambled to surround the carriage.

Right... right. As long as the Jiang family was there, as long as that Ninth Princess was there, no matter who came, he had nothing to fear.

Zhao Jin turned back and saw Shi Shen’s horse stopped a few dozen steps away from him.

“A humble servant pays respects to the Third Prince.”

Though he said he was paying respects, he sat upright and showed no intention of dismounting.

...A damn lackey.

Zhao Jin took a deep breath, squared his chest, and coldly said, “What? Did Father send you to escort me back to the palace?”

He saw Shi Shen smile.

A smile full of hidden meanings and sarcasm—exactly the sly, crafty face of a wily eunuch.

“I am here on His Majesty’s orders to receive Your Highness back to the palace,” he said, smiling as he meaningfully glanced at the troops behind him.

“But only to receive Your Highness alone.”

Zhao Jin’s expression changed: “Do you know who is behind me escorting me? Step aside immediately!”

But Shi Shen’s brows lowered, his expression indifferent, clearly uninterested.

“Your Highness, without the tiger tally in your hand, you cannot command troops to enter the city with you.” He didn’t mention the people Zhao Jin referred to as his escort, only emphasizing the soldiers behind Zhao Jin. “Your Highness, please obey the Emperor’s orders.”

“I said step aside!” Zhao Jin lost patience.

“The troops cannot enter the city, Your Highness,” Shi Shen repeated.

“You damned eunuch, do you not understand human language?!” Zhao Jin was now furious.

But Shi Shen acted as if he didn’t see him and turned his head away, speaking to the soldiers beside him, “Men, first cleanse these rebel forces for the Third Prince.”

The surrounding troops immediately acknowledged the order, their response like a thunderous roar.

Zhao Jin froze on the spot.

…Rebel forces?

Who told him the soldiers guarding the imperial heir behind him were rebels?

“Stop!” He drew his sword from his waist with a nearly breaking voice. “I’ll see who dares make a move!”

After all, he was the imperial heir.

The soldiers around, frightened, stopped in place.

Zhao Jin pointed his sword forward.

“Who told you the people I brought are rebels?” he said with a cold sneer, sword aimed at Shi Shen. “Could it be my father? What, now that I’m here, does Father say I am the leader of the rebels?”

Shi Shen looked at him without speaking.

After a moment, he showed a troubled expression, lowered his eyes, and bitterly smiled, “Your Highness, please don’t make things difficult for this humble servant.”

Now Zhao Jin was completely dumbfounded.

…He didn’t deny it?

His threat was nonsense, yet Shi Shen didn’t deny it?

…It really was Father’s order?!

Zhao Jin looked at Shi Shen incredulously. When he spoke again, his reason was almost overwhelmed by impulse and anger.

“My father says I’m a traitor?” he asked again. “I bring troops back to the capital, and he thinks I’m here to usurp the throne?”

Shi Shen was silent for a moment, but did not answer his question.

“Your Highness, you lack the tiger tally and have privately dispatched troops. But His Majesty, for the sake of father-son affection, even if he punishes, will not be too harsh on you,” he said, raising a hand.

“Men, escort His Highness back to the palace.”

At that moment, all the blood in Zhao Jin’s body seemed to freeze.

He stared wide-eyed, feeling cold—the kind of cold that was laughable.

This eunuch was the Emperor’s dog; he dared not falsify an edict, even just to frighten him.

…It was his father.

No wonder the fools in Chuzhou dared to block him with troops. This had to be his father’s imperial decree.

His father… hadn’t even met him yet and had already branded him a traitor.

He was his own flesh and blood, his eldest son, his only son!

Ridiculous!

Zhao Jin laughed, a bitter, ugly laugh.

Before him, Shi Shen showed no expression, spurring his horse forward two steps.

But Zhao Jin suddenly jumped down from his horse, raising his sword high. “Escort me back to the palace? Since Father sent you here today, then don’t just come to receive me alone!”

He said, sneering coldly, pushing past the crowd behind him and yanking open the carriage door.

Like pulling out an object, he dragged out a frail, tightly bound girl.

A cruel smile on his face, he turned back and held the girl up to Shi Shen. “If you’re going to receive me, then receive the Ninth Princess as well—Father’s own daughter—together.”

*

Before noon, rumors were already rampant throughout the capital. Even Fang Linyuan, who was “recovering” in the Huaiyu Pavilion, had heard the news from the capital.

The Third Prince had returned to the capital.

Outside the imperial city, facing over a thousand troops and the common people inside and outside, he loudly and publicly exposed the Empress’s deception—how she swapped the Emperor’s true heir with her own brother’s son.

Afterward, he rode horseback, leading the Ninth Princess he had brought back, parading openly through the city from outside all the way to the palace gates.

Now, no matter how tightly the military tried to keep things under wraps, this scandal had spread until everyone in the capital knew it.

The entire Upper Capital nearly boiled over.

Has there ever been such a bizarre thing in the world? A long-planned switch! The Empress’s own brother even collected a whole courtyard full of people who resembled His Majesty!

This wasn’t their nonsense.

Because when they reached the palace gates, Third Prince Zhao Jin brought the Ninth Princess and dumped the Jiang family, the group of shouting children, and those few women who looked just like the Emperor—all on the white marble platform outside the gates.

He knelt there and loudly kowtowed toward the palace gates, begging his father to receive the Dragon’s Heir back.

It was said that upon hearing this, the Emperor inside the palace was so furious he fainted on the spot.

Empress Jiang and the “Ninth Prince” Zhao Jue were naturally temporarily imprisoned in the Cold Palace.

The palace was thrown into turmoil in the span of a single day.

Years ago, to verify Zhao Chu’s bloodline, Emperor Hongyou tried countless methods; naturally, the Imperial Medical Office had rich experience.

In less than a day, the Imperial Medical Office confirmed that Zhao Jue was indeed not the Emperor’s child, and that frail girl was truly His Majesty’s bloodline.

In fact, it didn’t even need verification.

That girl looked almost exactly like Emperor Hongyou, as if they were cast from the same mold. As for Zhao Jue’s features—if anything, he resembled the Empress’s brother more than the Empress herself.

The always-healthy Emperor Hongyou fainted again.

Sixth Princess Zhao Pei, along with her husband Li Zhe, knelt before the palace gates, unable to rise, begging to see her father.

But even as Zhao Pei cried hoarse, kneeling in the snow until night fell, she could not get an audience with Emperor Hongyou.

Zhao Chu also returned to Huaiyu Pavilion under the deepening night.

In the residence, Fang Linyuan, who had spent the whole day hearing rumors but could not go out, was nearly frantic.

The man wearing the golden beast mask just jumped over the window into the bedroom, and Fang Linyuan hurriedly put down the notebook he was holding and went to meet him.

“What is the current situation in the palace? Is it true that the Ninth Prince is not His Majesty’s biological child?” he asked. “I heard from Juansu that even three-year-old children in the city now know about the Empress’s treacherous switch. How could the Third Prince make such a ruthless move? Has he already decided to turn against the Emperor, his own father?”

Zhao Chu took off his golden beast mask and tilted his head to look at him.

Fang Linyuan quickly stopped and waited for his reply.

But after a moment, he couldn’t help but continue asking. “Did the Jiang family really use such a bizarre method to swap a boy inside the palace?”

He saw Zhao Chu look at him and momentarily reveal a faint, helpless smile.

“You ask so many questions at once—how am I supposed to answer?” Zhao Chu said.

Fang Linyuan quickly replied, “Take your time.”

Saying that, he went to pull out a chair nearby and pour tea, clearly wanting Zhao Chu to start from the beginning.

But Zhao Chu reached out and pressed his hand on Fang Linyuan’s wrist. “I have a question I need to ask you first,” Zhao Chu said, slightly straightening his expression.

If it came before such a huge matter, it must be something enormous.

“Ask,” Fang Linyuan hastily answered.

But in the next moment, the hand pressing his wrist tightened and pulled him into an embrace soaked with snow and wind.

“All day long you worried about these trivial matters, a whole day without seeing me, and you didn’t miss me?”

 

--

Author’s note:

Fang Linyuan: Mm-hmm, miss you, love you only, if you fell in the water I’d save you first! Quick, which one is the Emperor’s real child?!

Zhao Chu: …

 

Translator : DarNan