The advantages of being a man—on this morning, Fang Linyuan, unfortunately, experienced them in full.

Perhaps this person was originally a fox in human form—most vicious and cunning, yet prone to holding grudges. Once his teeth clamped around another’s throat, even the slightest grievance would be returned in double.

…All over nothing more than a divorce letter, he dragged Fang Linyuan through heaven and earth several times over, refusing to let him go.

Amid the overwhelming rain of kisses, Fang Linyuan struggled to cope with the relentless attack that left no room to breathe.

He didn’t even dare tremble.

For whenever he happened upon a spot that made Fang Linyuan shiver even slightly, this fox would linger there, turning back and forth, forcing him into a corner until he nearly broke, and when his trembling was at its worst, would ask him over and over—
“Still want a divorce?”

Later, Fang Linyuan could no longer remember whether he was nodding or shaking his head.

On his taut, fair skin bloomed red cherry marks, like plum blossoms falling gently upon a vast field of snow.

Old scars were traced over again, with the one on his lower back given special attention—so much so that a general who could endure a knife wound without uttering a sound, now trembled, eyes rimmed red, neck stretched tense like a lamb offering its throat for slaughter, the vulnerable line of it drawn smooth and bare.

Later still, Zhao Chu began asking him other questions.

Did he love him?
How much did he love him?
Did he love him like a gentle breeze, or like sudden rain striking lotus leaves?

But either answer was a dead end.

Fang Linyuan didn’t know how many times he had been turned over and over, dying and coming back to life.

Until the setting sun outside dyed red the seams of the bed curtains, Fang Linyuan was granted a temporary relief.

Even someone like him, who could fight outside Hulao Pass for half a month without fatigue, now lay limp-boned in the bedding, without the strength to so much as lift a finger.

The hungry fox, meanwhile, still lazily buried his head in the neck of his powerless prey, unwilling to leave.

Eyes half-closed, he inhaled deeply, nipped lightly, sharp canines grazing skin.

Fang Linyuan could not help but be left with new marks inch by inch, and soon his limp hand was lifted, each finger kissed in turn.

“Cold?” Zhao Chu asked softly.

Fang Linyuan, too weak to shake his head, could only let Zhao Chu pull up the brocade quilt, covering the snow-white skin dotted with red plum blossoms.

“Still going to leave?”

Zhao Chu, having kissed his whole hand, bent down again, gently stroking his cheek.

Fang Linyuan’s eyelashes trembled faintly in fright.

What was he doing? If he still insisted on leaving, would they have to go through all this again?

He had always thought that harsh punishments and cruel officials were the surest way to break a man’s will. Yet he hadn’t known that being dragged through heaven and earth like this could soften one’s very bones even more.

He couldn’t help but open his eyes and look at Zhao Chu.

The young general’s features were already handsome and spirited; now, with the corners of his eyes still faintly red, his misty gaze held fear as he looked at the other, pitiful and wholly unaware of how enticing he appeared.

Even now, Zhao Chu could not help letting out a breath in his throat.

It made his naturally soft and gentle tone even more tender.

“Just yesterday you told me you loved me, and today you want to run without looking back,” he said. “And you’re this aggrieved?”

“I’m not trying to abandon you.” Fang Linyuan’s voice was hoarse.

Perhaps because of the intimate atmosphere and his present weakness, his emotions were more fragile than usual.

Meeting Zhao Chu’s eyes, he paused briefly, yet still continued. “Now that your great enterprise is accomplished, you will be emperor. Even if I could be a consort in your harem, I cannot bear children for you. You and I might not care, but the realm needs an heir.”

At this, he paused again, and under Zhao Chu’s gaze turned his eyes aside, a faint tightness in his throat.

“Do you mean that because I love you, I should watch you shoulder such turmoil for my sake?”

He hesitated a moment. “…Or that I should serve you alongside others? I couldn’t do that either.”

In the dim light, Zhao Chu did not see the glint of moisture in his eyes, only laughed softly upon hearing this.

“The more you talk, the stranger it sounds. You haven’t even gotten off my bed, and you’re already thinking about letting others serve me?” he said, lifting a hand to gently tilt Fang Linyuan’s chin back toward him.

“If it’s only about having children, why not bear one for me yourself?”

“What child could I bear?!”

Fang Linyuan froze, lifting his hand to push Zhao Chu away. His voice was a little louder now, and the choke in it could no longer be hidden. A single tear, long held back in his eyes, slipped free.

This time Zhao Chu panicked.

“All right, all right,” he said at once, reaching to pull Fang Linyuan fully into his arms, one hand patting his back, the other smoothing his hair, coaxing softly. “I was only teasing you. Don’t cry.”

Fang Linyuan tried hard to swallow the sobs in his throat.

Why was this happening again! A grown man, sniffling all the time—what kind of sight was that!

But the more he tried to hold it in, the harder it was to swallow down, until Zhao Chu’s steady touch along his back calmed his breathing, and he managed to suppress it a little.

“If you think this way, why not just tell me directly?” Zhao Chu said gently, holding him tighter. “What’s the big deal? I thought you’d changed your mind again and didn’t love me anymore.”

“How is this a small matter?” Fang Linyuan retorted.

“It’s indeed not a small matter,” Zhao Chu said. “But if not for this, why would I have to use this identity to face the court ministers?”

Fang Linyuan froze. “Wasn’t it because of the late empress?”

Zhao Chu, holding him, let out a quiet breath. “She and I were two entirely different people to begin with. Whether I am a man or a woman sitting on the throne—how could she possibly care?” he said. “I also understand very well that no matter in what identity I seize that position, the justice that should be returned to her, I will naturally return to her—and to all others like her thereafter…”

As he spoke, Zhao Chu lowered his head to look at Fang Linyuan. “These words were what you told me. I’ve remembered them all along.”

The fox who had just tossed him about mercilessly was now playing the obedient one.

Was he actually expecting praise?

Fang Linyuan opened his mouth to speak, but instead a small choked sob escaped.

… How mortifying!

He quickly shut his mouth, forcing his breath to steady and swallowing hard, but then Zhao Chu lowered his head and placed a light kiss at his temple.

“Still crying.” His tone pretended to be stern, but the ending softened. “Did you find out it works once and now you’re using it again? I’m not that soft-hearted, you know.”

Fang Linyuan lifted his eyes to look at Zhao Chu.

He said nothing, but a few drops of water clung stubbornly to his lashes, swaying with each blink, ready to fall—set against the flush at the corners of his eyes, the effect was all the more striking.

“All right, all right, it works.”

Fang Linyuan: ?

Before he could even respond, Zhao Chu surrendered without rhyme or reason.

“It’ll always work, all right? Just don’t cry anymore. Even if I had a heart of iron and stone, letting you cry twice would be enough to make it rust.”

As he spoke, he gently wiped Fang Linyuan’s eyes, then lowered his head to kiss away the droplets clinging to his lashes.

“I wasn’t crying.” Fang Linyuan squirmed from the ticklish touch, dodging while protesting. “It’s you.”

“What about me?” Zhao Chu’s expression was all innocence.

… What about you, indeed.

After tormenting him for an entire day, how could this demon not be tired himself?

The flush at Fang Linyuan’s eyes spread slowly down his neck. He pursed his lips and said nothing more.

Zhao Chu chuckled softly twice and pulled him in tighter. “I hadn’t wanted you to feel any pressure. To me, after all, whatever identity I hold is the same—so long as I know who I am, it doesn’t matter what I am in others’ eyes.” His voice was quiet.

“You mean…”

“I mean, since I’m still acting as a princess for now, then as my husband you can be righteous in name and not bound to the inner palace,” Zhao Chu said. “That tiny place—I’m already sick of it myself.”

Fang Linyuan was slightly stunned. “You mean… for my sake…”

“This is what I meant by the things I still have to do in this identity,” Zhao Chu said softly. “But it’s not entirely for you.”

He gave a faint laugh, lowered his head to kiss Fang Linyuan, and in that air of relief there lingered the faintest trace of grievance. “After all… if you left, what would I do?”

Fang Linyuan said nothing. He knew it was irrational, but hearing Zhao Chu say that, he realized clearly—he could not leave.

All the painstaking mental preparation he had made collapsed utterly at one light sentence from Zhao Chu, crumbling to nothing.

He raised his eyes to look at Zhao Chu.

“What’s more, don’t forget—I’ve never been a good man.” Zhao Chu’s words followed. “Even if it’s for the peace of the realm, you have to stay, to keep me in check for the sake of the common people.”

It was hardly a glorious thing to say, yet he spoke it with absolute righteousness.

Fang Linyuan pressed his lips together.

Zhao Chu truly was no good man—after today, he probably understood that better than anyone.

This man was terrible.

“Then… the matter of heirs…” Fang Linyuan ventured.

“I haven’t even ascended the throne yet—why would I be thinking about heirs?” Zhao Chu was nonchalant.

Fang Linyuan grew anxious. “The fate of the dynasty—how can you not consider it in advance?”

“That’s easy,” Zhao Chu said with a low chuckle, his words unhurried. “If His Majesty himself can’t produce children, what can anyone do about it?”

Fang Linyuan froze. “You…”

He had thought it all out already?

Zhao Chu only gave a faint “Mm” and said, “Of course. Since I can’t have children, then the royal clan’s children can all be considered. I’ve no bias—there’s the Eldest Princess’s child, Zhao Yao’s, and the Ninth, who’s only just been brought back to the palace. Besides, since you and I are married, Changnian also counts as royal blood…”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Fang Linyuan cut him off immediately.

If Changnian were really pushed onto the throne, wouldn’t that be tantamount to the Marquis of Anping’s household usurping the throne? A hundred years from now, if he faced his father in the underworld, the old man would probably beat him with three rattan canes until they all broke.

Zhao Chu merely smiled and stroked his cheek.

“That’s why I say, there are plenty of children. If we must be fair, then send them all to the Hall of Literary Brilliance to study—ten years or so later, the fate of the dynasty will naturally be secured.”

His tone was light as air, soft as if it were pillow talk in bed.

But from those scattered words, Fang Linyuan saw the upheaval of mountains and rivers, the changing of heaven and earth.

If it truly could be so… if it had been so in the past, then the late Empress would not have had to disguise herself as a man to sit for the imperial examinations, and no one would have needed to append, before her title of Tanhua, that mocking and affected pair of words, “embroidering hands.”

“If it truly could be like this, that would be the best thing of all,” Fang Linyuan could not help but sigh softly.

“Yes.” Zhao Chu smiled, the air light, and the hand resting on Fang Linyuan’s back began to grow increasingly unruly. “All this talk of the dynasty’s fate—it is, in the end, only about people. The world will never lack for virtuous talent, and neither will the imperial palace.”

As he spoke, his hand slid lightly over Fang Linyuan’s waist and came to rest upon the firm lines of his abdomen.

“So there’s no need to worry about whether this place of yours can produce children.”

In just a single day, Zhao Chu had already mapped out well enough where Fang Linyuan was most sensitive and vulnerable.

With just the faintest, most offhand touch, Fang Linyuan’s whole body tensed; the place that had been tormented most severely that day instantly tightened and ached with soreness.

“No more!” Fang Linyuan sternly warned Zhao Chu.

“I can still go on.” Zhao Chu, however, looked all innocence, even trying to pull Fang Linyuan’s hand over to prove it to him.

Fang Linyuan snatched his hand back as if fleeing, hastily hiding it behind him.

“Even so, no!” he said. “You… you wronged me for no reason today—now the words have been clarified, so why are you still bullying me?”

Zhao Chu’s eyes fixed on him, growing ever more limpid and innocent.

He was already born strikingly beautiful, and his eyes were that single perfect stroke that brought the whole painting to life—when those peach blossom eyes shimmered at someone, it was with the intent to bewitch, to steal their very soul, to claim their life.

“This isn’t bullying you.”

As Zhao Chu spoke, he pressed closer again—his movements clearly light and gentle, yet carrying within their softness an irresistible force, half coercing, half coaxing Fang Linyuan into his arms.

“It’s loving you.”

His voice was soft as a murmur. After drawing Fang Linyuan back into his embrace, he leaned in, kissing his temple and cheeks with the soul-stealing tenderness of a fox spirit.

“You suddenly wanted to leave—of course I was afraid. Now that I know you still love me, good boy… I’m very happy.”

Who could endure Zhao Chu coaxing him so tenderly, calling him good boy?

Even if Fang Linyuan’s bones were tempered steel, they could not resist the tender, charm laced into this demon fox’s soft-spoken words.

A light breeze swept through, over the many layers of bed-curtains bathed in the setting sun, and in the breath of wind from the window, they swayed gently into motion.

 

Translator : DarNan