Zhao Chu held Fang Linyuan in his arms and felt Fang Linyuan’s hands climb up to embrace his shoulders and back.

“That’s good,” Fang Linyuan said, returning the embrace.

He had already heard what happened earlier today in the Yuntai Hall.

Zhao Chu had gone to the Chongde Hall this morning dressed in phoenix robes, still appearing as the Fifth Princess.

Fang Linyuan was genuinely happy for him.

He knew that this act was not only in protest of his mother’s injustice, not only in condemnation of his father’s cruelty, but more than that, it was a reconciliation with the years Zhao Chu had endured in silence.

He hadn’t treated this identity as a shackle, but instead wore it like armor to battle the heavens.

But Fang Linyuan also knew that facing the world with such an identity meant a future even more riddled with thorns.

Yet Zhao Chu had done it well.

Fang Linyuan was sincerely glad, and the anxiety that had weighed on him for half the day was finally lifted.

But he didn’t answer Zhao Chu’s question—whether he had missed him.

Things had gone smoothly. Zhao Chu could now justifiably inherit the throne and take the seat high above the clouds. It would be the culmination of the grand plan he had worked toward for so many years.

Then...

Thinking of Saihan’s swelling belly, Fang Linyuan suddenly felt a touch of envy.

At the very least, to be able to naturally bear children with one’s husband or wife was something forever out of reach for him.

What’s more, while the Marquis of Anping and the Fifth Princess might not need it, the Emperor of the Daxuan Dynasty certainly did.

Whether man or woman, the continuation of the bloodline could ward off hungry eyes and prevent the chaos that came from having no heir. In a single household, a shake-up might be survivable—but Fang Linyuan knew better than anyone that for a country and a court, even the smallest tremor could cost lives and blood.

He couldn’t let Zhao Chu bear that burden.

At that thought, Fang Linyuan’s arms tightened around Zhao Chu’s back.

Zhao Chu chuckled softly as he felt the embrace tighten.

“Worried about me?” he murmured into Fang Linyuan’s ear.

Fang Linyuan didn’t know how to respond—he simply nodded.

That prompted Zhao Chu to loosen his hold just a little and lower his head to study his face.

A person could have love, but that love must not sow karmic retribution, must not bring ruin to others.

Fang Linyuan looked at Zhao Chu and, for no reason at all, suddenly felt wronged.

It was just their fate to stand in such positions, to be sustained by all under heaven, and to have every move held accountable for the lives of the people.

And yet Zhao Chu deserved to stand there.

He had schemed for it for so long, suffered so much for it. He had clawed through darkness and blood-soaked mud for years, and yet managed to keep a heart so clean—it ought to be lifted high.

At that thought, Fang Linyuan clenched his teeth in secret and forced himself to make a decision.

“What is it?” Zhao Chu asked. It was rare for Fang Linyuan to stare at him for so long without speaking. He lowered his eyes to carefully examine his expression.

Those black eyes were watery, like a little fawn that had just woken from a nightmare.

Who upset him?

Zhao Chu’s expression darkened slightly, just about to ask more, when Fang Linyuan suddenly reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck.

He kissed him.

Zhao Chu didn’t even have time to close his eyes before he saw Fang Linyuan’s lashes lower, and without hesitation, he kissed his lips.

Recklessly. As if he had made a huge decision. With a kind of desperate sincerity.

Zhao Chu couldn’t withstand that.

It was as if the little deer’s antlers had rammed straight into his heart—hot, beating wildly—and without even a struggle, it had been completely stolen away by this reckless little creature.

...He had missed him.

Zhao Chu’s lips curled uncontrollably into a smile, his hands also tightening around him, pulling Fang Linyuan firmly into his embrace.

In that moment, the kiss grew deep and intense, neither of them willing to let go.

Their lips and tongues collided, breath tangled together.

Their panting grew heavier with each kiss, more chaotic, with no rhythm—just a rush of heat.

The bright red lip rouge smudged their lips, leaving them disordered and lush like wilting spring flowers.

*

That day was New Year’s Eve—a time when families were meant to be together.

The private troops led by Wu Xinghai, along with the Eastern Depot agents, managed the entire Imperial City with order and precision. Palace maids and eunuchs who had clean records and did not serve Zhao Chu directly were allowed to return to their posts after a thorough inspection. In fact, festival rewards were distributed as usual—doubled, even.

Fang Linyuan also took the initiative to host a family banquet in the Chonghua Hall for the concubines of the inner palace.

It wasn’t just that the palace had fallen into turmoil and they were implicated and affected—they deserved some care. Fang Linyuan had also considered that many of the imperial consorts had ties to the previous dynasty. In these troubled times, it was routine to offer them some reassurance.

This matter was entrusted to Momo Songyan to handle.

As for Zhao Chu, by noon, his desk was already piled with documents and memorials as high as a small mountain, so much so that Fang Linyuan felt a headache just from looking.

The court had already been unstable this year, and with the sudden illness of Emperor Hongyou and the palace upheaval just yesterday, the court and the realm were now in complete disarray.

Thus, not even New Year’s Eve could bring Zhao Chu a moment’s rest.

Fang Linyuan simply sat by and watched.

The issues detailed in the documents were complicated and tangled. Even though Fang Linyuan was adept at strategizing on the battlefield, he found these civil affairs a real headache.

He didn’t speak, but Zhao Chu noticed first how tightly furrowed his brow had become.

The young, handsome general sat beside the table, resting his chin in his hand in deep thought, those sharp sword-like brows knitted tightly together—a sight that made one’s heart ache.

Zhao Chu reached out and rubbed the space between his brows.

Fang Linyuan was startled by the touch. “What is it?”

He had been lost in thought, staring at a memorial about the shortage of Ministry of Personnel officials, when Zhao Chu’s hand suddenly pressed his forehead.

He looked up to see Zhao Chu smiling at him.

“What’s the matter? Frowning so hard.”

Zhao Chu looked rather at ease.

Outside the window, the sky was visibly darkening. Fang Linyuan straightened his back and sighed slightly. “Looking at all this, I truly don’t know whether it’s good or bad we’ve come this far.”

“Hmm?” Zhao Chu raised his brows, puzzled.

“This year, the court was already tangled with affairs. The Turks are eyeing our borders like a tiger watching its prey,” Fang Linyuan said. “If the turmoil within court cannot be stabilized soon, I fear the coming year will be just as unsettled.”

“Shh.” Zhao Chu raised a finger to his lips.

Fang Linyuan didn’t understand but still stopped talking. “What is it?”

“It’s the end of the year—talk like that is unlucky,” Zhao Chu said with a smile, reaching up to pat the top of his head.

How strange—since when did Zhao Chu believe in such things?

Still, hearing Zhao Chu say so, Fang Linyuan, who bore great responsibility, didn’t dare treat it lightly. He quickly spat twice for good luck.

Zhao Chu’s smile widened as he picked up the memorial on the table again and seriously pointed something out to him.

“There are some complications, yes. That’s why certain matters need to be postponed,” Zhao Chu said. “For example, those I sent to Jiangnan were among the most capable in court. Now, they must be recalled quickly to fill the key vacant positions in the capital.”

Fang Linyuan nodded at that. “Compared to the capital, the new tax reforms were only a pilot program anyway, not something that can be completed in a day. There’s no need to rush it.”

Zhao Chu looked at him and nodded with a faint smile.

“Yes,” he said. “As for the other troubles, they’re not really troubles.”

Fang Linyuan looked at him, puzzled.

“I’ve been laying groundwork in court for years—my foundation is here. Never mind those opportunistic fence-sitters; just the ones working directly for me are enough to keep the court from falling into real chaos.”

As he spoke, Zhao Chu smiled and tapped the memorial with his finger.

“There are quite a few among them just putting on a show, going through the motions.”

This confused Fang Linyuan even more. “Motions?” he asked.

Zhao Chu nodded. “Even my own people have to pretend they aren’t mine. That’s the only way they’ll appear clean.”

He looked up at Fang Linyuan, only to see him lowering his eyes, completely focused on the memorial in front of him.

Zhao Chu couldn’t help but be stirred into teasing him.

He leaned in slightly, wiped a touch of rouge from his own lips with a finger, and smeared it onto Fang Linyuan’s lips, which were slightly parted in concentration.

“Besides,” he said, “on the surface, I’m still a woman. That makes it even more necessary for them to pretend they would rather die than yield—only then can they preserve their integrity.”

Fang Linyuan, startled by the sudden touch to his lips, looked up at him in confusion.

He couldn’t see the vivid tint now smeared on his own lips, only the reflection of himself in Zhao Chu’s eyes, with lashes trembling and gaze profoundly deep.

He more or less understood what Zhao Chu meant, but he’d never experienced the murky backroom dealings of court politics.

He couldn’t help but sigh. “Isn’t that too unfair to you?”

“I don’t bother arguing with them over such things,” Zhao Chu replied carelessly, his gaze falling solely on Fang Linyuan’s lips. “If I did, how would I be any different from my dear imperial father?”

At the mention of Emperor Hongyou, Fang Linyuan suddenly grew curious. “Where is His Majesty now?”

Zhao Chu’s fingers brushed ambiguously once more over his lips, his tone light and airy: “It’s New Year’s Eve—I had him locked back in his palace chambers.”

They had been discussing serious matters, but now Fang Linyuan was flustered by the teasing. He quickly reached out and grabbed Zhao Chu’s wrist.

“Stop that,” he said. “It’s reasonable enough. He’s still the emperor—keeping him in his quarters is justifiable.”

But Zhao Chu only smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I sent him back for a reunion.”

“A reunion?” Fang Linyuan didn’t understand.

“With his beloved son, of course.” Zhao Chu’s eyes curved, and his lips quirked upward like a fox who had just gotten away with something.

“Zhao Jin—he locked himself up with his father in the palace.”

Fang Linyuan was stunned for a moment, then couldn’t help laughing.

Cough… Though it wasn’t proper to make fun of the emperor, he truly couldn’t help it.

“You…” he poked Zhao Chu, unable to hold back. “The two of them in the same room—won’t something happen?”

“There’s someone watching,” Zhao Chu replied. “Anyway, two useless fools. At most they’ll come to blows—no one’s dying.”

His tone sounded as if he were watching a cricket fight.

Fang Linyuan shook his head with a laugh and was about to speak when Zhao Chu put down the memorial in one hand, took his hand in the other, and pulled him up.

“You keep asking where others are,” Zhao Chu said. “Have you forgotten what day it is?”

“New Year’s Eve,” Fang Linyuan replied, his eyes still fixed on the frustrating pile of memorials on the table.

“Then you know,” Zhao Chu said, his tone tinged with helplessness and indulgence. He reached out, grabbed a thick cloak nearby, and wrapped it around Fang Linyuan.

“What are you doing?” Fang Linyuan asked, startled.

“Going to celebrate.”

*

Fang Linyuan hadn’t expected Zhao Chu to bring him back to the Anping Marquis’ Residence.

Zhao Chu had already arranged everything. The two of them exited straight through Kaiyang Gate, and by the time they arrived at the gates of the marquis’ residence, Eunuch Wang—sent ahead—had already prepared a reunion dinner for them at Jiyue Hall.

As soon as they reached the front hall, Fang Linyuan saw Song Zhaojin, supported by a maid, hurrying out to greet them.

“Sister-in-law,” Fang Linyuan quickly stepped forward and helped her. “It’s cold and slippery out, you should be careful.”

But Song Zhaojin shook her head, disregarding the concern.

“I’ve heard everything from the palace today,” she said. Her eyesight was poor, and she could only make out Zhao Chu’s shimmering, golden figure through a blur. “Your Highness…”

“There’s no need to worry, Sister-in-law,” Zhao Chu said as he stepped forward with a gentle smile to reassure her. “It was only a matter of dealing with some miscellaneous affairs. We’re both safe.”

Though still uneasy, she allowed them to guide her back into the hall and sit.

“After this morning’s court session, there have been all kinds of rumors flying about the palace and beyond, many saying things about Your Highness and His Majesty…” As she spoke, tears welled in her eyes again, and she glanced sideways, seemingly searching for Fang Linyuan.

“I’m here, Sister-in-law,” Fang Linyuan said softly at her side.

“His Majesty…” she hesitated.

“As ministers, we should never criticize the emperor. But you’ve only been back in the capital for a year, and have been careful and capable in all things—how could His Majesty still doubt you?” Her voice trembled, and she sighed before turning again to Zhao Chu.

“I thought my younger brother had done all he could as both a subject and a son, with a clear conscience. The rest—be it the emperor’s wrath or grace—we would simply endure.” She paused. “But I never expected that Your Highness would go so far for his sake, to the point of launching this… act.”

Fang Linyuan froze. “For me?”

“Yes,” Song Zhaojin said. “Now all under heaven know that it was to rescue you from His Majesty’s hands that His Highness launched the palace coup.”

Fang Linyuan nearly laughed aloud.

The rumors among the people were truly wild—how could such a massive political upheaval be turned into a tale of tragic romance?

But out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu’s gaze was steady and deep as he looked at him, silent.

For no reason, Fang Linyuan suddenly recalled that kiss from the night before, atop the city tower, amid the raging flames and chaos.

…Well, come to think of it, it wasn’t too far off.

He was, indeed, the one saved by a “beauty” driven to rebellion in a fit of passion.

On the other side, Song Zhaojin was still worried. “But Your Highness, if I may speak frankly,” she said, looking toward Zhao Chu. “Court politics are not a child’s game.”

“I want my younger brother to be safe, yes. But matters of state affect far more than our own family. The livelihoods of the people rest in your hands. If anything goes awry, neither the marquis’ household nor my brother could bear the consequences.”

Hearing Song Zhaojin say that, Fang Linyuan’s heart sank slightly.

Yes—he wasn’t unaware of his sister-in-law’s worry.

Peace today had been paid for in the blood and lives of countless generals and his father and brothers. If he only focused on the glory of seizing power and did not remember them, he would be betraying everyone.

Fang Linyuan lowered his eyes for a moment, feeling undisputed conviction about the decision he had made this morning.

Now that Zhao Chu’s grand achievement was secure, once things stabilized in a few days, it would be time for him to hand over the documents and erase any lingering threats from the previous dynasty’s harem.

But until then…
He would allow himself a few more days of beautiful dreams.

Fang Linyuan lifted the corner of his mouth slightly, just as Zhao Chu’s voice came from beside him: “Don’t worry, Sister-in-law. I know exactly what needs to be done.” He smiled softly as he spoke.

Fang Linyuan looked up at Zhao Chu—and saw that while he was speaking to Zhaojin, his gaze was fixed entirely on him.

“If I only cared for my own private needs, how could I live up to the sacrifices my elder brother and the late Marquis made for Great Xuan’s peace? I must ensure peace across the generations, so that their crimson hearts were not in vain.”

Fang Linyuan’s chest thumped twice.

Somehow, under Zhao Chu’s watchful eyes, he felt a strange illusion:

Those words were meant for him.
That promise of peace and prosperity was meant for him alone.

*

It was no illusion at all.

After all, to Zhao Chu, his own life or death was nothing. Peace and stability existed only because Fang Linyuan loved them.

Yet Fang Linyuan didn’t understand—it seemed he couldn’t help staring at him.

The young Marquis made no effort to hide his affection; his eyes shone with it, so much so that even the small maidservants nearby nudged each other, giggling at their obvious closeness.

Zhao Chu’s lips curved faintly in a smile.

He could see that Fang Linyuan loved him. To him, what was royal power or a golden age compared to that?

That evening, they shared a reunion feast in Jiyue Hall. As night deepened, Changnian and the attendants went into the courtyard to set off fireworks.

Fang Linyuan and Zhao Chu walked through snow to the lake in the rear garden.

“Every New Year’s Eve, fireworks are set off at Qujiang Pool—you can see them best from the front courtyard here,” Fang Linyuan told Zhao Chu.

“It’s a pity we’re a bit older now,” he said with a wry sigh. “When I was small, I used to climb trees to get the best view.”

That best seat was dangerous too—so dangerous that his father scolded him every year. During the festival chase-and-scold routine, the whole family would plead with his father to be gentler.

Fang Linyuan smiled at the memory.

He had long ago learned that meetings and partings were inevitable.

In such a large realm, there were so many important matters that his plans and feelings always came second.

Lost in thought for a moment, he suddenly felt a tightening at his waist. Startled, he looked up as wind swept through the osmanthus fragrance around them.

Without a word, Zhao Chu lifted him up in one arm, stepped onto a Taihu stone, and used the momentum to launch both of them onto the snow-covered roof of the three-story Hua Yu Pavilion.

When Fang Linyuan regained his senses, they stood calmly atop the highest point of the marquis’ residence.

Half the capital lay spread out below in dazzling light.

Fang Linyuan turned and found Zhao Chu looking at him.

“I have something I need to confess,” Zhao Chu said. “Earlier it was crowded and hard to speak—But I feel I shouldn’t hide it from you.”

“What is it?”

“The rumors circulating in the capital—I was the one who spread them,” Zhao Chu admitted.

Fang Linyuan was taken aback. “So you meant for everyone to know you are the kind who acts on emotion and passion?”

Zhao Chu laughed softly. “I always have been,” he said. “But that’s not what matters.”

His voice was very soft—like snow lifted on a breeze.

“Usurping power is not honorable, but I want everyone in the world to know that from beginning to end, you remained pure and upright.”

At that exact moment, fireworks burst over Qujiang Pool, across half the capital, lighting up the night sky. The bright fireworks reflected in Zhao Chu’s eyes.

How could that not be honor? Zhao Chu was the most brilliant, honorable man in all the world. If not, he would never have believed these few short days could light up the rest of his life for decades to come.

Fang Linyuan didn’t look at the fireworks—only at Zhao Chu.

He shook his head. Words formed on his lips, but when he opened his mouth, only one line came out: “I also have something I want to confess to you.”

“What’s that?”

“I love you,” he said. “To me, there is nothing purer than that.”

Zhao Chu looked into his eyes and paused for a breath.

In that next instant, the fireworks bloomed deep within his gaze.

 

--

Author’s note:
On New Year’s Eve—some families reunite, some fall in love...
Meanwhile, Emperor Hongyou and Zhao Jin are stuck in the Cold Palace playing with wilted flowers :D

 

Translator : DarNan