The Imperial Astronomers swiftly calculated the auspicious date, setting Zhao Chu's coronation for the first month of the new year.

And just days later, Zhao Yu's military reassignment was announced in court.

The court erupted in uproar.

"The Grand Princess is still in mourning—how could she possibly lead troops into battle now?"

Elderly ministers wept openly as a sea of officials dropped to their knees. The most senior among them pressed their foreheads to the floor, their postures screaming that if the Grand Princess compromised her virtue, they might as well dash their own heads deadly against the pillars.

Such moral blackmail might have worked on Emperor Hongyou—but Zhao Chu had never bowed to these tactics.

"By your logic," he said, icy fingers tapping the dragon throne, "I shouldn't be sitting here either."

Though his words feigned humility, his glare cut sharper than an unsheathed blade. The kneeling officials swallowed their protests—they'd already lost the rhetorical high ground. With Zhao Chu firmly in power, the court divided by self-interest, and no viable imperial heir...

After a long silence, someone stammered, "Th-this is different! Your Majesty assumed the throne by public decree during a national crisis—"

"Why different?" Zhao Chu's gaze swept the hall. "Was the Grand Princess not also answering a crisis? Without her naval counterattack, Fuzhou's entire fleet would've followed her husband to the seabed." His nails scraped the armrest. "Since when do victorious generals mourn for defeated fools? If Yanzhou falls tomorrow, which of you could claim moral purity?"

The hall choked on silence.

"But... but Your Majesty's situation differs!" A stubborn voice piped up. "Marquis Anping remains in the palace to stabilize the throne—"

Zhao Chu laughed.

"Who told you that?" The tap of his finger froze the room. "Who said Marquis Anping would stay confined to the inner court?"

Officials exchanged stunned glances. With the Ministry of Rites and Imperial Sacrifices scrambling to prepare the coronation, was the new emperor really foregoing an empress?

As whispers swelled, Zhao Chu continued, "Under Marquis Anping's command, the Sixteen Guards have transformed the capital's discipline. His recent campaigns purged bandits from a thousand li of our borders. With the empire rebuilding, we need civil ministers—but even more, we need generals who can secure our frontiers."

He turned. "Li Fu."

The Minister of War hurried forward. "Your servant is here."

"From today, Sixteen Guards General Fang Linyuan is promoted to Vice Minister of War with oversight of military examinations." Zhao Chu's voice brooked no dissent. "Commander Li Cheng'an will be promoted to overlooking the Sixteen Guards."

The court exploded. Sending Fang Linyuan to the Ministry without naming him empress? This blurred all boundaries between inner and outer courts!

Before objections could form, Li Fu bowed deeply. "This minister obeys the decree."

"Draft the edict," Zhao Chu told Wu Xinghai, leaving the uproar behind.

*

This had been their plan all along.

Military reform couldn't be rushed. Zhao Chu first positioned Fang Linyuan to oversee officer promotions and the imperial exams. After the spring tests, the National Academy would add a military track—those examinees becoming its first cadets. Once curricula stabilized, regional commanders would rotate through the capital for training.

As for instructors? Fang Linyuan had grown up memorizing the exploits of retired generals. Cross-referencing Ministry archives, he'd personally recruit these living legends.

So when the edict arrived, Fang Linyuan remained calm. Li Cheng'an, however, nearly bounced off the walls. "I'm—I'm really a general now?"

Their Sixteen Guards cadets mobbed them, begging Fang Linyuan to stay.

"You don't need me anymore," he said, ruffling one sniffling boy's hair. “Hold it in. Even if I'm not at the Defense Bureau, I'm still in the capital. What's there to cry about?"

In an instant, the young men around him were laughing through their tears, the commotion lively and chaotic once more.

Fang Linyuan watched them, unable to suppress a twinge of reluctance.

His time serving at the Defense Bureau had indeed been carefree and joyful.

But he knew better—he was still young, and this was no time to indulge in leisure. His father, his brothers, his subordinates, and countless predecessors had shed their blood—not so he could idly enjoy the present peace.

How could he ever rest easy?

"Why the tears? Our General is meant for greater things!" Lou Shuo piped up from the side. "I heard from my father—the General's transfer to the Ministry of War is to nurture more commanders for Daxuan!"

The others, less well-informed, turned to Fang Linyuan in surprise. "Really, General?"

The matter had long since spread from court, and Fang Linyuan saw no reason to hide it.

"Yes," he replied.

"Then... will the General not go to battle anymore?" someone asked.

"It won't interfere," Fang Linyuan explained. "Once you've all learned the skills for the battlefield, if war breaks out at the frontier again, I'll lead you there myself."

At twenty-something years old, who didn’t dream of being a hero?

In an instant, the eyes of the young nobles around him lit up, and they bombarded him with questions about how they would learn.

Fang Linyuan barely managed to extricate himself.

During his absence, Li Cheng'an had already taken full charge of the Sixteen Guards' affairs, so there was little left to hand over.

In less than half a day, he had transferred all remaining duties—along with the general's seal and records—to Li Cheng'an.

"General, my father says you're embarking on something great," Li Cheng'an said, holding the seal and records. "Whatever you need in the future, just say the word—I'll brave fire and water to see it done!"

Fang Linyuan laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright," he said. "I'll remember that."

Just as he turned to leave, Li Cheng'an hesitated, then called out after him. "General."

Fang Linyuan looked back.

Li Cheng'an took two steps forward, his expression still uncertain, but he lowered his voice and said, "Her Highness is an excellent person, and her feelings for you are genuine. Your years of devotion... it seems they were more than worth it."

Fang Linyuan blinked. "What?"

Li Cheng'an glanced around, then whispered, "That night before New Year's Eve, when Her Highness entered the palace... I knew about it early on."

Fang Linyuan stiffened.

"Lin Zizhuo had never vanished so inexplicably before, no matter how busy he was. I thought it was strange, so I sent a few brothers to investigate. They found out he'd left the city with you," Li Cheng'an said. "And then... you disappeared."

"A few of us discussed it and decided to inform Her Highness. But at the time, we thought—what could she do, confined to the inner quarters? We had plenty of men. If it came to it... sneaking into the palace to rescue you wasn’t out of the question."

Fang Linyuan took a sharp breath and shoved his shoulder. "Have you lost your mind?"

Li Cheng'an chuckled, sidestepping the question, and continued, "I told Her Highness directly. At the time, she only said not to trouble ourselves. But we only realized later—her people weren’t enough for what she planned in the palace."

He spoke softly. "That’s why she led the charge herself—to stage the coup," he said. "It wasn’t until then that I understood what Her Highness meant when she refused me that day."

"What did she say?"

"She said... we were your closest friends, and our willingness to save you was enough. As for the rest, we only needed to keep our hands clean and stand with integrity."

*

By the time Fang Linyuan returned to the palace, dusk had nearly fallen.

Lanterns were lit throughout the palace grounds, their warm glow dotting the sweeping roofs and vermilion walls all the way to the horizon.

Fang Linyuan stepped through the gates of Yuntai Palace.

Inside the hall, under the flickering candlelight, several palace maids stood in a row, holding carved golden trays.

A ceremonial robe embroidered with gold thread, a jeweled crown wreathed with coiled dragons—

Their brilliance nearly dimmed the candlelight itself.

Fang Linyuan turned and saw Zhao Chu standing before them.

Facing a massive bronze mirror, he wore a sweeping dragon robe woven with gold, the imperial crown adorned with sun, moon, and phoenix motifs resting atop his head. Behind the dangling beads, his beauty was breathtaking.

Noticing Fang Linyuan's arrival, he turned and approached, taking his wrist.

"Come, look," he said. "The Imperial Wardrobe just delivered the ceremonial attire."

"For your coronation?" Fang Linyuan asked.

Zhao Chu led him to the trays with a smile. "Not mine. Ours."

His voice was soft, carrying a tenderness utterly unlike his usual sternness.

The attending maids couldn’t help but lower their heads, suppressing smiles.

Beside them, the Director of the Imperial Wardrobe beamed. "Now that the Marquis has returned, shall we have someone assist him in trying it on? If any adjustments are needed, we can make them overnight."

But Zhao Chu raised a hand. "No need. Leave everything and withdraw."

The eunuch bowed repeatedly, directing the maids to arrange the robes neatly before respectfully retreating.

The hall was left to the two of them alone.

"Why did you send them away?" Fang Linyuan didn't quite understand.

Zhao Chu lowered his eyes, a smile playing at his lips as his hands settled on Fang Linyuan's leather belt. "I'll help you change."

The tips of Fang Linyuan's ears burned, and he averted his gaze, not daring to meet those smiling eyes behind the swaying beaded strings of the crown.

Though Zhao Chu moved slowly, his actions were methodical. Despite his slight embarrassment, Fang Linyuan obediently raised his arms, letting Zhao Chu deftly remove his outer robe.

"Li Cheng'an told me today that he wanted to storm the palace to rescue me, but you stopped him," Fang Linyuan said after a moment.

Zhao Chu made a soft sound of acknowledgment as he draped the robe aside and picked up the innermost gauze layer of the ceremonial attire.

"There was no need for him to trouble himself," Zhao Chu explained, slipping the gauze robe over Fang Linyuan's shoulders.

The palace-made cicada-wing gauze was as soft as mist, and Zhao Chu's movements were just as deliberate and gentle. As the robe settled over Fang Linyuan's back, Zhao Chu's hands skimmed his waist, his head bowing slightly as he tied the silk cords.

"Not only would haste invite mistakes, but their loyalty to you shouldn't force them to bear the stain of treason."

His breath grazed Fang Linyuan's neck—light and cool, like another layer of gauze settling over him.

Fang Linyuan couldn't find a response. He watched as Zhao Chu finished dressing him, then meticulously checked every detail.

Zhao Chu bent to measure the hem's length against the floor, ran his hands along Fang Linyuan's waist, traced the span of his shoulders, and finally took his hands to adjust the sleeves.

Fang Linyuan's skin prickled with warmth, and he withdrew his hand with a murmur. "Everything fits perfectly."

Zhao Chu chuckled softly. "The palace tailors rarely make errors."

With that, he picked up the silk under-robe and helped Fang Linyuan into it.

The ceremonial robes were heavy and sumptuous, even more ornate than the emperor's own dragon robes. Layer upon layer of gold and crimson fabric concealed intricate embroidery—mountains and seas, plants and trees, clouds and rivers, all symbols of the realm and its people.

As Zhao Chu dressed him, the quiet rustle of fabric between them, he asked, "Why bring this up now?"

Fang Linyuan hesitated, then answered honestly. "He said you took a risk because of it."

Zhao Chu fastened the final brocade layer, its brilliance shimmering, then took the jade belt from the tray and secured it around Fang Linyuan's waist.

"A risk?" Zhao Chu echoed.

"Yes. He said you entered the palace yourself because you didn't have enough men."

Zhao Chu laughed, pinching Fang Linyuan's cheek lightly as he removed his hairpiece.

"Of course not," he said. "You were there. Whether I had an army or stood alone, I would have come for you."

The golden crown settled onto Fang Linyuan's head. It was heavy, the jade and gold ornaments swaying faintly near his ears. Unaccustomed to its weight, Fang Linyuan held his neck stiffly.

Zhao Chu studied him, his gaze deepening, the reflected gold light dancing in his eyes like wonder.

Then he smiled, took Fang Linyuan's hand, and led him before the bronze mirror.

The mirror now held two figures.

The weight of their crowns and robes embodied the manifest power of imperial authority.

Side by side amidst the jade halls and golden splendor, their crimson and gold intertwined—they might have been ascending the celestial steps together, or standing as newlyweds beneath wedding candles, a match as flawless as pearls and jade.

For a moment, they seemed to step into a painting.

Fang Linyuan turned to look at Zhao Chu beside him—outside the mirror—just as the reflected Zhao Chu tilted his head, his dark eyes meeting Fang Linyuan's.

"Have we ever even shared the wedding cup?" Zhao Chu asked suddenly.

"No," Fang Linyuan admitted. "But there's no wine here, is there?"

He glanced around, but Zhao Chu had already taken two cups from the side table, pressing one into his hand.

"Then let tea stand in its place," Zhao Chu proposed, smiling. "Heaven and earth will witness us all the same."

Under the warmth of that smile, Fang Linyuan raised his cup between them.

Zhao Chu lifted his own, their wrists intertwining lightly.

As the tea shimmered, their eyes met, and Zhao Chu spoke slowly. "Fang Linyuan, without you, there would be no golden age—and no Zhao Chu as I am now."

His voice was low, tender. "How could I not love you?"

The tea's reflection glimmered in their eyes.

Fang Linyuan answered softly. "I love you too," he said. "I have for a long time."

"Since when?" Zhao Chu asked.

Since when?

Was it the first moment he saw Zhao Chu plucking plum blossoms in the snow? Or when the fox-demon's icy coat first revealed warmth and softness? Or perhaps the unyielding strength and purity that had always been etched into his bones.

There were too many moments—Fang Linyuan couldn't name just one.

Before he could answer, Zhao Chu was already smiling at him.

"Never mind. You needn't say it. I can see it in your eyes," Zhao Chu said.

"I know you love me, as much as I love you."

End of main story

 

Translator : DarNan