From now on, just take it as if you never had me as a friend.

 

Zhao Chu had no idea where Fang Linyuan had heard such a thing.

Something so trivial—something he himself had forgotten the moment it passed his eyes—could it really leave Fang Linyuan this distracted and restless, thinking about it for days?

He had not yet spoken when, turning his head, he suddenly met Fang Linyuan’s pair of cautious, careful eyes.

Staring at him, looking longingly with expectation —it carried an indescribable kind of pitifulness.

The words already at Zhao Chu’s lips paused for a moment, then, before he could stop himself, spilled out.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t looked at a single one.”

By now his instincts were beyond his control—as if even that trace of grievance in Fang Linyuan’s eyes was something he could not bear for him to feel. He almost wished he could empty out all the truth in his heart, along with his very liver and soul, just to place them before Fang Linyuan.

Sure enough, under his gaze Fang Linyuan froze slightly, and in that instant, a glimmer of light flickered in his eyes.

“What?” he repeated blankly. “Haven’t looked?”

At this point Zhao Chu was incapable of anything but the plain truth.

“Mm.” He answered. “Once Mother-Empress told me what those scrolls were, I had the Ministry of Rites send them all back.”

Joy lit up Fang Linyuan’s eyes, like sparks falling on dry grass, and in that instant, all the shadowy melancholy of the past days was burned away.

This little young master… he always seemed so easy to coax.

Zhao Chu’s lips curved up slightly at the brightness in his eyes. Then he heard Fang Linyuan ask again: “Why?”

Zhao Chu’s lips still curved upward, his gaze wholly reflecting Fang Linyuan. His lips moved, and before he could stop himself, a line of words slipped out on pure instinct:

“Because—I already have a sweetheart.”

*

Zhao Chu had a sweetheart!

Ah… he actually had someone he loved!

That night, Fang Linyuan threw himself into the bedcurtains of his couch, his heart howling like a little beaten puppy.

Even he himself didn’t know why he felt so dejected.

He, Zhao Chu, barely in his teens, the age when spring feelings stir, and the palace full of so many beautiful people—was it really so strange for him to like someone?

Take that most dissolute of squanderer, Wang Chang—when he was just over ten years old, his heart had already been stirred thirty or fifty times. Among their circle of brothers and friends, aside from watching the fun and laughing, no one felt sorrow about it.

So why not him? At his age, who wouldn’t have someone they liked?

Fang Linyuan sat up with a start, as if in defiance.

Yes, he had someone too. What was a “sweetheart”? He…

He froze—then his pupils shrank slightly.

Sweetheart…

Why, the moment those three characters entered his mind, the figure that appeared in front of his eyes, in his very thoughts—was Zhao Chu?

Zhao Chu!

Fang Linyuan trembled all over in fright.

But even through the fear, through the flood of panic and dread crashing down upon him…

The shadow of Zhao Chu in his mind did not flicker, not even a fraction.

It was as if a single strike hit home (NT: Chinese idiom meaning having a devastating realization)—knocking him flat back onto his bed, sending him crashing heavily into the bedding.

It was over…

His beloved one was Zhao Chu.

*

This was the only child of Her Majesty the Empress!

If such feelings were ever discovered by the sovereign, even a clean death by beheading would be a luxury.

And if Zhao Chu himself found out… With what disgusted and contemptuous eyes would he look at him?

Companion reader, good friend—reading together day after day, only to nurture such twisted thoughts toward the Fifth Prince!

For a time Fang Linyuan’s heart was overturned like rivers and seas (NT: idiom meaning in intense turmoil inside). Though still so young, he tossed and turned the whole night, unable to sleep, tasting far too early the heavy flavor of sorrow.

The next morning, at the time of the filial morning visit, he stumbled hazily to see his mother.

This was already the tenth year since his eldest sister-in-law had married into the family.

The first two years she and his elder brother had been mostly apart, seeing one another little more than a month out of the year. After the third year, she followed him to Yumen Pass, amidst the whirling yellow sands.

It was not until more than a year ago, when she became pregnant and had a difficult time keeping the child while stationed at the border, that she returned to the capital. There she gave birth at the ducal manor to his brother’s eldest son, Changnian.

Now, with Changnian barely half a year old, when Fang Linyuan entered his mother’s courtyard, his mother and sister-in-law were together, cradling and playing with the baby.

When she saw him come in, his sister-in-law froze slightly, then asked with concern: “Second Brother, what’s the matter? Did you not sleep last night? Your eyes are so dark.”

At her words, his mother also raised her head to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

Fang Linyuan’s lips moved, but how could he possibly say the truth aloud?

“Just didn’t sleep well,” he mumbled.

His mother gave him a doubtful yet worried look, then finally answered, “Then rest earlier today, catch up on some sleep.”

Fang Linyuan nodded in agreement.

Changnian had taken after his elder brother, his temperament was quiet. Though still a baby, he was at that perfect playful stage.

When Fang Linyuan lifted his eyes, he met a pair of glossy black ones, clear and curious as they gazed at him, smiling at him.

He forced himself to return a smile to Changnian.

Then he heard his mother sigh. “If you’ve something on your mind, just tell me. What could be so serious that you put yourself down into this state?”

Fang Linyuan nearly died of shame.

But when his gaze met his mother’s eyes, he drew in a deep breath and, at last, told her the conclusion he’d come to after tossing and turning all night.

“It’s really nothing,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve thought, my age is already no longer small. A good man should have his ambition far and wide, and it’s time I went with Father and Elder Brother to guard the border.”

*

In less than two days, Dou Qingyi received Fang Linyuan’s memorial of request, delivered by his own hand.

She spread it open before him, read it through, then lifted her eyes to him. In that calm gaze was a rare solemnity and scrutiny seldom shown to Fang Linyuan.

“You want to go to the frontier?” Dou Qingyi said. “Have you thought it through?”

Fang Linyuan nodded.

“The frontier is bitter and cold, as different as heaven and earth (NT: idiom, ‘a world apart’) from the capital. You’ve been raised here in the city since childhood, never endured such hardship. With your father and brother already loyal in service, there is no need for you to suffer as well.” Dou Qingyi reminded him.

But Fang Linyuan shook his head.

“I do not only think for the House of Duke An. I simply have my own aspirations, unwilling to let the years slip by in vain,” he answered.

Dou Qingyi nodded lightly, her fingers brushing the memorial, tapping upon it.

“You don’t want to guard the pass alongside your father and brother?” she asked.

Fang Linyuan shook his head. “At Yumenguan, with Father and Elder Brother present, the defenses are already solid and unbreakable. There’s no need for me to add flowers to brocade. Within the four borders, wherever soldiers are lacking, Your Majesty knows best. Therefore, I am willing to obey Your Majesty’s dispatch—whether east, west, south, or north, I will gladly go.”

Dou Qingyi gave a laugh. “You are frank enough,” she said. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll suspect the Fang family of holding too many troops, becoming a threat to me?”

“…Huh?”

The sudden remark left Fang Linyuan momentarily stunned.

When he looked up, he saw Dou Qingyi’s brows raised, a half-smile playing upon her lips as she leisurely watched his reaction.

After a pause, Fang Linyuan bowed his head deeply and clasped his hands in salute. “Whatever Your Majesty decides, I have but one word of obedience. Even if my lord commands me to die, I shall have no complaint.”

Dou Qingyi chuckled softly. “You truly take after your father,” she said. “Only your elder brother is a little more cautious and reserved, not daring to say such things to me.”

As she spoke, she tossed the memorial lightly onto the desk.

“That was only a joke just now. In employing people, do not doubt them; in doubting people, do not employ them (NT: classic governance maxim attributed to Lu Buwei, Chancellor of the Qin dynasty (3rd century BCE) ). If I didn’t understand that, I would not be sitting here wasting time in this seat.”

At this, she lifted her eyes to Fang Linyuan.

“Since you’ve thought it through, I’ll grant it. Yanzhou is unstable at the moment, and Goguryeo is stirring amidst dynastic change. If you have no objection, go to Yanzhou first and learn under the commanding general there.”

Dou Qingyi so readily granted his request. By reason, Fang Linyuan should have been pleased. Yet hearing this, he found he could not smile. He only bent forward, bowing low to Dou Qingyi.

“This subject thanks Your Majesty for fulfilling his wish.”

Dou Qingyi gave a soft acknowledgment, then, after a moment of thought, added: “Before you leave, bid farewell to Zhao Chu. You two have always been close; he will surely be reluctant to part with you.”

Fang Linyuan’s shame weighed so heavy he could scarcely lift his head.

Yes—Zhao Chu treated him so well, and yet he… how could he be so ungrateful?

Just as he bowed his head heavily and was about to reply, a voice suddenly came from behind him.

“Your son is right here.”

*

Zhao Chu’s voice held no trace of joy or anger, and his expressionless face betrayed nothing.

Until the two walked together, until they reached the empty plaza outside the hall, with no one else around.

Fang Linyuan kept his head down, trudging forward, when suddenly Zhao Chu halted.

“Ouch!”

Fang Linyuan bumped straight into his back.

Rubbing his forehead, he was just about to look up, when his wrist was suddenly seized, yanked upward, forcing him to raise his head.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Fang Linyuan met a pair of eyes rimmed with frost. “What…”

“That you were leaving,” Zhao Chu underlined. “Why did you never tell me?”

Fang Linyuan could not speak.

But Zhao Chu seemed… truly angry—angry to an unprecedented, grave degree.

“You even went so far as to report it to Mother Emperor, and still I knew nothing.” Zhao Chu said.

How could he let him know such a thing? Wouldn’t that only make him worry?

“Don’t ask…” Fang Linyuan, long resolved to leave in secret, could only beg him now.

“I’m not saying I won’t let you go,” Zhao Chu drew a deep breath. “Nor that I want to chain you in the capital. But why didn’t you dare to tell me?”

“I…”

“Fang Linyuan.” Zhao Chu pressed step by step, even calling his full name, each word struck out with force.

For Fang Linyuan, who had for the first time in his life a secret heart’s desire, how could he withstand such relentless pressing?

He felt panic, cowardice, even an uncontrollable grievance—like he had been played about by fate without his knowing, forced into this situation with no way forward or back.

How had he come to like Zhao Chu? The two of them… were both men!

At last, under Zhao Chu’s piercing gaze, he lifted his eyes, a faint redness rimming them.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “From now on, don’t come looking for me again.”

“…What?” Zhao Chu’s brows knit instantly, his eyes sharpening.

Fang Linyuan sniffled, raised a hand to press Zhao Chu’s shoulder, and pushed him aside.

“I’ve given rise to filthy thoughts I never should have had toward you. It’s my disgrace,” he said.

“From here on, just take it that you never had me as a friend.”

 

Translator : DarNan