PTCQT Chapter 31

“Why?” Shen Chun asked.

Feng Feibai looked up at him, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “What?”

“Your Majesty is the emperor, this realm rightfully belongs to you. Yet I, a subject, hold command over the military and wield power in the court, involving myself in every matter. To say I covet the throne would not be unjust. By the standards of dynasties past, a traitor such as myself would deserve to be executed a thousand times over. And yet, not only does Your Majesty not wish to kill me, you even feel guilt toward me. Why?” Shen Chun looked at him, smiling faintly as he asked.

His gaze wasn’t sharp, yet when Feng Feibai met his eyes, it felt as though everything he had been thinking and feeling was laid bare before him.

Why? It wasn’t merely admiration, it was affection. He didn’t know when it began, but at some point, his eyes and heart had come to hold room for only this one person.

The Empress Dowager had once tried to persuade him to take a wife, to marry an empress. But no matter how beautiful the candidate, no matter how stunningly breathtaking, none could stir his heart. No matter how exceptional others were, compared to Shen Chun, they simply could not compare.

He had already fallen for the best this world had to offer, how could there possibly be room in his heart for anyone else?

And yet, the one he loved was also the one he had to guard against, to compete with, to oppose. He had no choice but to strip this person of power. Between authority and affection, in the end, he chose the former. How could he dare hope that this person might still harbor any other feelings for him?

“I may not be a wise ruler,” Feng Feibai said, “but I am not one to kill without reason. Prince Yi has rendered great service to the nation and its people, how could I possibly take his life?”

“I see. Then it seems I was merely being delusional,” Shen Chun said, his tone tinged with faint regret.

Feng Feibai had already been feeling desolate, but upon hearing those words, he was struck with shock, yet part of him wondered if he had misheard. “My dear subject… what do you mean by that?”

“I’m fond of men,” Shen Chun said plainly, just as he had once confessed in a drunken state. “And Your Majesty happens to be exactly to my liking.” He grasped Feng Feibai by the elbow and pulled him closer. His gaze swept over the blood-red flush of the man’s earlobe, then met his stunned eyes and said, “Does Your Majesty understand how I feel?”

Feng Feibai was standing quite close to him. As he met those smiling eyes, his mind went completely blank. “You…”

Could it be that he truly harbored feelings for him? Was it real?

Shen Chun withdrew his hand and gave a small smile. “Your Majesty still gets lost in thought, just like when you were a child.”

Feng Feibai hurriedly snapped out of his daze, but when his gaze met Shen Chun’s, he quickly looked away. His mind was a complete mess, yet he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances. The pounding of his heart roared in his ears, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

“I’ve already spoken of my feelings,” Shen Chun said. “What are Your Majesty’s feelings toward me?”

Feng Feibai’s eyes shifted slightly, unable to hide the nervousness and shyness within them. “Naturally… I feel the same.”

So their feelings were now mutual, was that what this meant? Then what? What were they supposed to do now?

“In that case, good,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “Then let’s make a promise, for two years.”

Feng Feibai looked at him in confusion. “Two years?”

“Two years,” Shen Chun said. “If, within that time, Your Majesty can seize half of the power I hold and earn the recognition of both the court and the people—” he paused, then added, “and if, after two years, Your Majesty still feels the same, then I will devote myself to you. One lifetime, one person, by your side.”

Standing as equals, together for life, such words sounded almost too beautiful to be real.

But what Feng Feibai didn’t understand was: “Why two years?”

521 raised its alertness and turned on the recorder, just in case the host lost control.

Shen Chun chuckled. “Does Your Majesty find two years too short? Three years is fine as well.”

“No!” Feng Feibai blurted out in frustration, then quickly corrected himself, “…Two years is enough.”

Even if it took everything he had, he would fulfill the promise within two years.

“A two-year pact,” Shen Chun said. “Does Your Majesty wish to exchange tokens of promise?”

The human heart was fickle, and none more so than that of an emperor. Especially once he had seized power and stood at the peak, with the world at his command and all subjects bowing at a single word.

To Shen Chun, power and status were like passing clouds; easy to grasp, and thus easy to let go. But for most people, it wasn’t so simple.

Remain in a position of power too long, and it’s easy to lose one’s original intentions. The world was full of beautiful people, and an emperor had the right to take them all into his palace. From a river of three thousand streams, to choose and drink from just one, that was easier said than done.

Two years was a test, not only of ability, but of sincerity. Since he had set his sights on something, he had to claim it first. Only then could everything else follow.

Besides, when it comes to love, it’s always the unattainable that feels the most precious.

Since it was a promise, there ought to be something to seal it with. Feng Feibai reached into his sleeve, hesitated for a moment, then took out a red jade thumb ring.

The jade was as red as blood, carved with intricate blossoms in full bloom, and amid the flowers, a fox winding its tail through the petals.

The patterns on either side of the ring twisted in elegant contrast, making it look exquisitely crafted.

Feng Feibai took Shen Chun’s hand, lowered his gaze, and slipped the ring onto his finger. The red jade rested against long, slender fingers, more beautiful than he had imagined.

Shen Chun withdrew his hand, gently turning the ring as he studied it. When his eyes swept over the faintly stirred expression on the emperor’s face, he smiled and said, “It suits me well.”

Judging by the rich luster of the jade, it was clear the ring had been made long ago and often worn, its surface smooth from being handled regularly. The fit was perfect for Shen Chun’s thumb, clearly custom-made.

“As long as it suits you,” Feng Feibai said, watching the way the ring turned on his finger. For some reason, a faint itch stirred in his heart, and he didn’t look away until Shen Chun’s sleeve covered the ring from view.

That look, both reluctant and subtly relieved, made something flicker in Shen Chun’s eyes. He gave a soft laugh, then drew something from his sleeve, took hold of Feng Feibai’s hand, and placed it gently in his palm. “This is my token to you.”

The object in his palm had a bit of weight to it, and it still seemed to carry the warmth of Shen Chun’s hand. But when Feng Feibai saw what it was, his expression turned to utter shock as he looked up at him. “A tiger tally? Why would you give this to me?”

“The tiger tally of the Annan Army, fifty thousand men,” Shen Chun said, looking steadily at the young emperor. “Since Your Majesty now holds authority, you ought to have command over troops as well.”

To control the power of the realm, military strength and financial resources were key. Without soldiers at one’s command, all words were just empty promises.

With these fifty thousand troops, everything would no longer be as it was.

Feng Feibai held the tiger tally between his fingers, yet it felt faintly searing in his palm. “I…”

“Your Majesty,” Shen Chun said calmly, “the tally is only a token. Even if it’s in your hand, should I wish to mobilize the Annan Army, a single handwritten letter would suffice. Whether or not you can truly claim them as your own, well, that depends on Your Majesty’s ability.” He reached for the teapot at his side and poured a cup of tea. The delicate jade cup sat lightly between his fingers, but all the brilliance in the room had already been stolen by the red jade ring glowing on his hand.

Suddenly, Feng Feibai’s heart settled. What once seemed impossible now held a glimmer of hope. That alone was the joy of a lifetime. To have Shen Chun’s affection, perhaps power and status weren’t so important after all.

He had sought power and position, partly to protect himself and his kin. But also… perhaps deep down, he had always believed that only by seizing this man’s authority could he keep him by his side forever.

“It’s already grown dark,” Shen Chun said, standing by the door to see the emperor off. “Your Majesty, take care on your way.”

“I know,” Feng Feibai replied, casting Shen Chun a deep, lingering glance before stepping into the carriage.

The carriage pulled away into the evening wind, the swaying lantern light gradually disappearing into the night. Shen Chun stood there, watching that spot, not moving for a long time.

[Host, what are you looking at?] 521 asked.

[Something interesting,] Shen Chun replied with a smile.

…

Court politics were ever-shifting and unpredictable. Though Prince Yi held sway over the empire, he could not withstand the steady encroachment of a young emperor with rightful claim to the throne.

Everything began to change after that palace coup. The emperor personally visited Prince Yi’s residence to apologize, erasing the offense of Prince Yi once holding a blade to his sovereign. On the surface, all seemed calm, but beneath it, undercurrents surged. Only the court officials could truly sense the tension.

The senior ministers, loyal to the legitimacy of the throne, stood firmly behind the emperor. Meanwhile, many of the newly appointed officials had been promoted through Dou Yun’s recommendation. Though they lacked a full understanding of court intrigue, their loyalty to the emperor was unmistakably sincere.

In just two short years, the power dynamics of the court had undergone a dramatic upheaval.

“Peace and prosperity to Your Majesty,” the palace attendants said in unison, bowing respectfully.

“What urgent matter does the Empress Dowager wish to see Us about?” Feng Feibai raised his hand slightly, signaling for them to rise.

“The Empress Dowager instructed us not to speak out of turn. Your Majesty will understand once inside,” one of the attendants replied respectfully.

Of all people, Feng Feibai felt the shift in power most deeply. It wasn’t just the increased deference of the servants, it was the authority in his hands, the ability to command and be obeyed. The uncertainty that had once plagued him seemed to be slowly fading. Now that he oversaw the affairs of the realm, there were things he no longer hesitated over, not like in the beginning.

With power firmly in his grasp, even the Empress Dowager seemed to grow more at ease, no longer living each day in restless fear as she once had.

“Mm.” Feng Feibai gave a quiet response and stepped into the Hall of Great Prosperity.

The palace remained simply adorned, without excessive luxury. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, adding an extra layer of calm and serenity to the place.

Every time Feng Feibai came here, he found it peaceful. But just as he reached the entrance of the main hall, he heard voices speaking inside.

“His Majesty has arrived!” the chief eunuch announced in a loud, clear voice.

The voices inside the hall quieted immediately. The Empress Dowager’s voice, tinged with delight, floated out: “His Majesty is here.”

“Empress Dowager…” came another voice, a young woman’s.

Feng Feibai paused mid-step, then took a deep breath and entered the hall once more.

He bowed respectfully to the Empress Dowager, and the young woman turned to kneel before him. “Ling’er greets Your Majesty.”

The young woman wore pale pink robes, her features delicate and soft, her voice laced with shyness and modesty. Judging from the ornate hair ornaments adorning her head, it was clear she came from a family of considerable rank.

Feng Feibai took his seat to the left of the high throne and said coolly, “No need for such formalities.”

His tone carried a distinct chill. Mu Ling lowered her gaze and rose, but as she stole a glance at the emperor, the coldness in his eyes made her heart race, not from fear, but from a flustered excitement she couldn’t suppress.

In all her life, Mu Ling had never seen a man who could compare to the emperor.

The Empress Dowager had been watching her expression. Seeing this, she turned to Feng Feibai and said, “Your Majesty, this is the legitimate granddaughter of Grand Secretary Mu. She has just turned sixteen this year and seldom enters the palace. Since I’ve had some idle time lately, I invited her to stay in the palace for a while to keep me company.”

A young, unmarried woman being brought into the palace, everyone knew what such a gesture implied. But matters like this always required a proper pretense.

Grand Secretary Mu was a prominent minister in court, and many of his sons held important positions within the administration. The women of the Mu family had long been considered fitting to become empresses. But in Feng Feibai’s heart, the person worthy to stand at his right side had never been a woman.

“If Mother enjoys the company of young girls,” Feng Feibai said calmly, his expression unchanged, “then it would be better to raise a few from among our own kin.” His words made Mu Ling’s face turn pale. “It’s improper for an unmarried girl to enter the palace without cause. Should rumors arise, her reputation would suffer.”

The two-year pact was nearing its end. Though he was often troubled by the need to politely decline his mother’s matchmaking efforts, his heart was quietly filled with joy and anticipation, he only wished time could move faster.

He hadn’t expected that, unable to arrange a marriage directly, his mother would come up with such a roundabout plan. If that person were to find out, and mistakenly think he’d changed his heart, it would be a serious problem.

“Ling’er, go rest in the side hall for now,” the Empress Dowager said with a sigh upon hearing his response.

Mu Ling took her leave, and the hall was left with only mother and son. The Empress Dowager looked at Feng Feibai and let out a long sigh. “Does Your Majesty blame me for making decisions without your consent?”

Her Feibai had always been close to her. It was rare, almost unheard of, for him to show her such coldness as he had today.

“Mother is simply worried, this, I understand,” Feng Feibai said, softening his tone. “But I… do not have that intention.”

He was her youngest son, born when the Empress Dowager was already advanced in age. It was said that she had labored with him for an entire day and night, fainting several times, nearly losing her life to bring him into the world.

The grace of giving birth and raising a child was greater than the heavens. Feng Feibai had always been willing to show her respect and filial piety. She was growing old, and her days were uncertain, it was only natural for her to worry and hope he would marry and have children soon.

But while he was willing to compromise on many things, this…this was the one matter on which he could not yield. He already had someone in his heart. He couldn’t bear to betray him, nor did he wish to follow in his father’s footsteps, summoning woman after woman into the palace, only to let them wither away like his mother once had, sitting in lonely silence, waiting endlessly for a favor that might never come.

“Is Your Majesty hesitating because of Prince Yi?” the Empress Dowager sighed. “Now that you’ve begun to take control of the court, does it still not suffice?”

“This is the most crucial time,” Feng Feibai replied. “I cannot afford the slightest carelessness. Once all is settled, then we may speak of other things.”

“If Your Majesty has made up your mind, then I will not press further,” the Empress Dowager said gently. “I only thought… if the Mu family were to lend their support, your chances of success would grow that much stronger.”

“Mother, I will not sacrifice a woman’s happiness just to secure my own position,” Feng Feibai said earnestly.

The Empress Dowager was momentarily stunned by his words, but then smiled gently.

“Silly child. My son is so handsome, and an emperor at that, what noble family’s daughter wouldn’t dream of entering the palace? Since you have such a heart, then if you do one day take an empress and don’t wish to wrong her, just take fewer concubines. There’s no need to be so…”

She trailed off with a sigh, then waved her hand. “Fine. Since you’ve no interest, I’ll send Mu Ling out of the palace. We’ll leave it at that.”

“Yes. Thank you, Mother,” Feng Feibai replied.

“Your Majesty, Prince Yi has entered the palace,” the eunuch announced in a hushed tone as he hurried in and bowed.

Feng Feibai’s heart tightened. The Empress Dowager, seeing his reaction, assumed he was feeling wary again and sighed. “Since Prince Yi is here, Your Majesty must handle him with care.”

“I will return at once,” Feng Feibai replied, maintaining a calm expression, though unease stirred within him.

Yes, he would have to tread carefully. In this matter, he truly was in the wrong.

…

In the imperial study, Shen Chun sat in a chair with a scroll in hand. A palace servant brought over tea and refreshments, while a young eunuch quietly informed him, “Your Highness, His Majesty is in the Empress Dowager’s palace. A messenger has already been sent, His Majesty said he will return shortly.”

“Mm, understood. You may go,” Shen Chun replied, fingers still lightly holding the scroll.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

[Host, the young emperor’s on a blind date,] 521 reported.

[Which family’s girl?] Shen Chun asked.

[Mu family,] 521 replied.

Shen Chun flipped a page of the book, smiling faintly. [No big deal.]

The young emperor was thoroughly, unmistakably fond of men; if it were a man, perhaps there would be reason for caution. But a woman? Hardly a threat.

Feng Feibai hurried back, and as he stepped into the hall, the first thing he saw was that familiar, languid figure; Shen Chun, unhurried and at ease. He raised his hand to dismiss the attendants, then walked forward, uncertain and uneasy. “You’ve waited long, my dear subject.”

Shen Chun set the scroll aside and rose to his feet, bowing with composed grace. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“There’s no need for formality between us,” Feng Feibai said, unable to hide the joy that rose in his heart at the sight of him. He reached out to steady Shen Chun gently. “There’s no one else here.”

“Very well.” Shen Chun took his seat again, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the red jade ring on his hand. “Why did Your Majesty visit the Empress Dowager’s palace today?”

Feng Feibai had been about to sit beside him, but his movements stalled for a moment. His gaze shifted evasively. “It was nothing… just paying my respects.”

“So that’s how it is,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “It’s midday, did Your Majesty dine in the Empress Dowager’s palace?”

“I knew you’d be coming, so of course I declined,” Feng Feibai replied.

“Then it wasn’t the food that didn’t suit Your Majesty’s taste… but rather the company,” Shen Chun said lazily.

“You—” Feng Feibai suddenly looked up at him, realizing at once that Shen Chun already knew. “You’ve found out. She was brought in by my mother, I didn’t know beforehand. I’ll have her sent back today. Don’t be angry.”

“If I were truly angry,” Shen Chun said with a light laugh, “I wouldn’t be joking about it now. Your Majesty works hard, it’s just a shame to disappoint the Empress Dowager. I imagine she simply wishes to hold a grandchild.”

“I don’t like women,” Feng Feibai said frankly. “If you could bear children, it would solve everything.” Hearing that Shen Chun wasn’t upset brought him a sense of relief, but at the same time, an inexplicable trace of resentment lingered.

Though the two of them had confessed mutual affection, in the two years since, Shen Chun had never truly drawn close to him. The promise remained, yes but Feng Feibai’s heart still lacked certainty. From time to time, he couldn’t help but wonder whether Shen Chun had truly meant what he said that day.

But if it had all been a lie, then over these past two years, the struggle for power, though won through Feng Feibai’s careful planning, had only succeeded because Shen Chun had chosen to yield, time and again. He did it so subtly that others might not have noticed, but how could Feng Feibai not see it? To be shown mercy by the one he loved, though it made the victory feel somewhat unearned, it still filled his heart with undeniable joy.

Upon hearing those words, Shen Chun raised an eyebrow. His gaze fell meaningfully on the young emperor, who had grown into a man with broad shoulders, a slender waist, and a tall, graceful frame. “Me, give birth? And how exactly do you expect me alone to manage that?”

Clearly, his little emperor had quite the vivid imagination.

Feng Feibai’s breath hitched, a flush rising in his chest. Though he had never been intimate with anyone, he was certainly no stranger to such matters. Of course he had thought about it, longed for it, but had always forced those thoughts down. Now, with just one teasing remark, all that restraint was stirred into restlessness. “A gentleman should not speak of improper things…”

Shen Chun caught the shift in his expression and felt something stir in his own chest. The throne was no ordinary seat, and a man who could command the devotion of thousands, yet show such singular, earnest affection, such a heart was hard to turn away from. [Seems I shouldn’t go around making promises so lightly.]

[But Host, you already promised the little emperor a lifetime of one heart and one bond,] 521 reminded.

[That one’s harmless enough,] Shen Chun said with a faint smile.

A lifetime of one heart, one bond, so long as the emperor did not betray him, Shen Chun would never betray that sincere devotion in return.

And since they could not be truly close, at least, not yet, he knew he mustn’t tease him any further. Shen Chun said, “Thank you for the reminder, Your Majesty. I overstepped. Please accept my apology.”

“It’s nothing,” Feng Feibai replied, though he couldn’t hide the faint trace of disappointment in his heart. He quickly changed the subject. “What brings you here today?”

“The matter of rotating the troops,” Shen Chun said, sitting up straighter, his tone turning serious.

It was clear Shen Chun intended to speak of proper matters, so Feng Feibai set aside his emotions for the time being and turned his focus to the discussion.

In the Yong court, military and political affairs were never matters kept behind closed doors. Court intrigue naturally stirred the interest of foreign powers, and so the troop rotation was a matter of utmost importance. Though the arrangement granted each of them command over half the forces, Shen Chun showed no concern over the division, and Feng Feibai, for his part, was willing to fully cooperate.

When it came to military affairs, Feng Feibai had never believed he could surpass Shen Chun. Though the two had vied for power over the past two years, their rivalry had been clean, rarely marred by underhanded schemes.

Standing at the height of power, Feng Feibai had begun to understand, if only faintly, the deeper intent behind Shen Chun’s every move. If he hadn’t been able to withstand the pressure Shen Chun once placed on him, how could he ever hope to bear the weight of an entire empire and its people? The struggle for the throne didn’t always require cunning plots or treacherous schemes. What it truly demanded was control of the court, the hearts of the people, and command of the military, none of which could be obtained without genuine ability.

Shen Chun… he had never aimed to crush him, but to shape him, into a wise, benevolent ruler. And Feng Feibai… would not fail him.

…

The two-year promise, Feng Feibai had been counting down the days, nearly to the hour. Yet the closer the date drew, the harder it became to keep calm. No matter how much he tried to suppress it, his thoughts constantly drifted. “What do you think Shen Chun likes?”

Jinrong, as the chief eunuch, naturally knew there was something unusual between the emperor and the regent. Despite the ongoing struggles within the court, the two had not clashed in a long time. Unlike what many ministers assumed, that enemies would burn with rage upon meeting again, their relationship had grown oddly… peaceful. But such things were beyond Jinrong’s place to question. “This humble servant couldn’t possibly know what’s in Prince Yi’s heart.”

Feng Feibai knew he was grasping at straws, but there was truly no one he could consult. “If I were to give him a gift… do you think he’d be pleased?”

“Though this servant knows little of matters of the heart,” Jinrong replied respectfully, “if two people truly care for each other, any gift from the other would naturally bring joy.”

“But he lacks neither silver nor gold,” Feng Feibai murmured, brows slightly furrowed. “I do know he enjoys fine tea and good wine, but those are far too common. I want… something more meaningful. Our two-year promise is coming to its end. It feels like there should be a proper beginning to whatever comes next.”

Jinrong thought for a moment and offered, “Your Majesty may not know, but General Liang has been by Prince Yi’s side for many years. He likely knows him quite well. Perhaps Your Majesty might summon him to ask a thing or two.”

“Liang Wendong?” Feng Feibai murmured. He didn’t particularly dislike the man, after all, Liang Wendong was loyal to Shen Chun, which naturally made him an eyesore in the past. But now, things were different. Feng Feibai had grown to regard him with a certain respectful neutrality. “Send for him… no—never mind. If we summon him outright, it might alert Shen Chun. Go find out where Liang Wendong is right now. I’ll go to him directly. Make sure no one else is disturbed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll see to it at once,” Jinrong replied, hurrying off.

At the military drill grounds, the atmosphere was alive with shouting and movement. Most of the capital’s soldiers trained here, and Liang Wendong, in charge of the imperial guards, often took advantage of any spare time to oversee the training personally.

Feng Feibai had come dressed in plain clothes, without fanfare or announcement. The soldiers on the drill grounds, busy with their grappling and drills, paid him no notice.

“Your Majesty,” Jinrong whispered, “General Liang is sparring with someone at the moment. This way, please.”

“Very well.” Feng Feibai cast a quick glance around the field before turning and making his way toward the sparring platform.

On the platform, Liang Wendong was sparring with another soldier. Neither used weapons, they were testing skill alone, exchanging heavy, solid blows. This wasn’t the flowery form taught in the palace; this was true, grounded combat.

Below the stage, soldiers had gathered in a circle, shouting and cheering, eager for their turn to join the fray.

The atmosphere blazed with energy. Standing in the shadows, Feng Feibai watched in silence, eyes sharp with thought. He quietly assessed, how well would he fare against them? He had once kept a low profile, hiding his strengths, but not in martial training. His skills had been honed by Shen Chun himself. The man appeared mild, but when Feng Feibai failed to meet expectations, the punishments were not light. Those early days had taught him never to hold anything back.

“Did Shen Chun ever spar like this with them?” Feng Feibai asked with interest.

If he were the one on that platform… Feng Feibai suspected these soldiers wouldn’t last even a single round.

“This servant has heard some stories,” Jinrong replied. “Back when Prince Yi was still young and stationed at the frontier, ten deputy generals went up against him all at once. Not only did none of them manage to land a single blow, they were the ones who ended up black and blue. And because they lost, they had to hop around the camp on one leg, holding their ears, for ten full laps. His Highness once said he trained with killing moves, not for sport. So after that, no one dared challenge him again.”

“Truly impressive,” Feng Feibai said, pride shining in his eyes. What was once a source of fear had now become a source of joy, such a formidable man was now his ally.

The sparring match on the platform was nearing its end. Liang Wendong kicked his opponent, a deputy general, off the stage. The general rose from the ground, showing no sign of anger. Amid cheers, he rolled up his sleeves and threw an arm around Liang Wendong’s shoulder. “You’ve got some moves, kid. The Marshal must’ve taught you some new tricks, huh?”

“Heh, jealous, aren’t you?” Liang Wendong wiped the sweat from his brow and nudged the man’s chest with his elbow. “It’s scorching out here, don’t crowd me so close, you’re making me sweat more. I’m off to freshen up.”

“Hey, don’t go! Teach me some of those secret moves too. Those new recruits are getting way too strong…” the deputy general called out, trailing behind Liang Wendong.

Liang Wendong chuckled, “If it’s secret, you should go learn from the Marshal yourself.”

“That’s just it, Marshal’s busy wrangling with the little emperor over court affairs now. Not like back when we were out on the frontier,” the deputy muttered, licking his lips, his expression sour. “How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here in the capital? The horse grounds are too small to even run properly, I’d take the northwest any day over this.”

“What’s the rush? It’s just the matter at hand,” Liang Wendong snapped. “Once the Marshal settles things in the capital, he’ll head back to the northwest.”

Feng Feibai’s fingers tightened slightly. Jinrong, who had been about to call someone over, paused upon hearing this.

“Really?” The deputy general’s eyes lit up, as if hearing some great news. “The Marshal’s really going back to the northwest? Don’t you dare trick me.”

“What am I tricking you about?” Liang Wendong kicked him lightly, glanced around to make sure no one was near, then lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you this much, but keep it to yourself. When the Marshal first entered the capital, he didn’t wait for the palace struggles to finish. As soon as he passed the city gates, he went straight into the palace. Remember that?”

“I remember, I remember,” the deputy said. “So what’s the point?”

“That’s where you don’t get it,” Liang Wendong said, patting the deputy’s chest. “Our Marshal never cared for the emperor’s throne to begin with, so he never bothered to compete for it. Back then, he said the northwest was far better. That’s why he told us not to waste our energy fighting with those people. Got it?” Liang continued. “Given how things are now, it won’t be long before we’re all free to leave this damned capital. A soaring eagle like the Marshal doesn’t belong stuck in this tiny city.”

“Where’d you learn to talk all fancy like that?” the deputy teased.

“Ah, the Marshal taught me.”

“Get lost, you brat!”

The two men headed toward their tents, their voices fading away. Feng Feibai stood rooted to the spot, while Jinrong cautiously ventured, “Your Majesty, perhaps the Prince isn’t exactly…”

“What he said back then might not be the same now. I know that,” Feng Feibai interrupted quietly, though his heart was uneasy.

Shen Chun had relinquished power far too swiftly. Feng Feibai once thought it was tolerance, a way to fulfill their two-year pact. But such overwhelming wealth and authority, Shen Chun clearly never valued any of it. If he truly left it all behind, no one would be able to stop him from departing.

He was a soaring eagle, born to spread his wings over the barren northwest deserts. The capital city, though bustling and grand, was nothing but a gilded cage, one that forced the eagle to fold its wings and weigh every move carefully in the treacherous court.

Power could not be held onto forever, but what about love? In these two years, they had never truly been close. Even when the Empress Dowager arranged for a woman to enter the palace, Shen Chun treated it only as a joke, not even showing a hint of anger.

If he had truly deceived Feng Feibai, then it was only right that he tell him so…face to face.

No matter the outcome, he would never let him go. After all the trouble he caused, Shen Chun wouldn’t simply be allowed to walk away with a casual wave of his sleeve!

“Return to the palace,” Feng Feibai said, clenching his fist. “Summon him to me.”

“Your Majesty…” Jinrong sighed deeply.

By imperial decree, the capital was placed under martial law. The suddenness of the order sent an immediate wave of tension rippling through the entire court.

The troop movements within the city, of course, did not escape Shen Chun’s watchful eyes. Yet at that moment, he was calmly watering the peonies in his courtyard, deep crimson blossoms blazing fiercely. The droplets of water fell on the petals like drops of fresh blood staining their surface.

“Marshal, all eight gates of the capital have been sealed,” Liang Wendong reported. “Martial law is in effect inside the palace walls. This doesn’t bode well.”

“What do you think he’s planning?” Shen Chun asked, shifting the watering can to a different flowerbed.

“He obviously wants to capture the Marshal, truly a wolf with wild ambitions,” Liang Wendong said, seething with anger. “The moment you give the order, I’ll send troops into the city to rescue you immediately.”

“No need,” Shen Chun set down the watering can calmly.

“Marshal!” Liang Wendong’s voice cracked with despair. “You must not give up like this! Even if it costs my life, I will ensure your safe escape from the capital!”

Shen Chun: “…”

[Host, stay calm. Foolish loyalty is still loyalty.] 521 advised.

“Enough. What did you say recently?” Shen Chun glanced at him and asked.

Liang Wendong frowned. “I say many things every day. Which one do you mean, Marshal?”

“His Majesty visited the training grounds a couple of days ago,” Shen Chun reminded him.

Liang Wendong’s expression turned serious. Shen Chun asked, “So you did say something. What exactly did you say?”

Liang Wendong, feeling guilty, knelt down and replied, “I mentioned that the Marshal intended to return to the northwest, but I only told Li Hu, and Li Hu is loyal to the Marshal.”

So the little emperor heard it? But how could he have eavesdropped on that? How cunning!

“This matter calls for punishment,” Shen Chun said firmly.

“I accept the punishment, Marshal. Please do as you see fit,” Liang Wendong bowed respectfully. “But I don’t understand, if the Marshal returns to the northwest, wouldn’t that be better for the young emperor?”

So why impose martial law now? Could it be that they fear losing control from afar? Yet he himself said the Marshal had no interest in the throne.

“If you return to the northwest, will you leave your wife and children behind in the capital?” Shen Chun asked.

Liang Wendong replied, “Of course not.”

“That’s exactly it,” Shen Chun said, gazing at him. “If he behaves this way, it’s because he’s afraid I’ll run away.”

The young emperor’s unease, this is his own doing.

“But Marshal, aren’t you just a pastime?” Liang Wendong asked, puzzled.

“When did I ever say that?” Shen Chun frowned.

Could it be that even his own guards think he’s just passing time?

Though he admires the young emperor’s appearance, there’s always genuine affection in his heart. Having stirred those feelings, he would never easily betray a lifetime of devotion.

“My lord, don’t you have a beloved?” Liang Wendong exclaimed in shock.

Shen Chun felt like they were speaking past each other: “When did I ever have a beloved?”

He smiled brightly, but Liang Wendong felt a chill down his spine and stammered, “Aren’t you pledged to someone and forbidden to get close to others?”

“You told them about this too?” Shen Chun asked.

“How could I possibly spread rumors about that?” Liang Wendong retorted confidently.

Shen Chun replied, “Even if there’s a pact, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s with a beloved.”

Liang Wendong guessed, “Then could it be an enemy? So sinister, to try to make the Marshal leave no heirs!”

“Shut up,” Shen Chun said sharply.

521 silently recorded everything, dutifully taking notes—loyal to the host.

Liang Wendong wanted to say more but pressed his lips tightly and fell silent, though his inner resentment never ceased.

If he ever found out which bastard dared scheme against their Marshal like this, he would make sure to kill him.

“It’s not an enemy. This matter is settled, rotting inside the heart. Do not speak of it to outsiders,” Shen Chun said with a sigh.

Liang Wendong tightly closed his mouth and nodded repeatedly.

“That’s for the best. This time, I’ll punish you with three days of silence. For every word you speak, add an extra day,” Shen Chun said.

Liang Wendong’s eyes widened in shock. He wanted to speak but quickly covered his mouth, muffling any sound. For a chatterbox like him, being silenced for three days was worse than death.

Just as Shen Chun finished speaking, a sharp voice came from outside: “By imperial order, announce that Prince Yi is summoned to the palace to meet His Majesty.”

“Your servant acknowledges the order,” Shen Chun bowed respectfully.

“Marshal!” At this moment, Liang Wendong could no longer care about his punishment of silence. Although the Marshal was not a mere pastime, there was no guarantee the young emperor wouldn’t change his mind.

“Don’t worry, I will return before midnight,” Shen Chun patted his shoulder reassuringly.

If he didn’t return by midnight, then all forces could be mobilized. Liang Wendong cupped his fists and said, “Understood.”

[Don’t you trust the young emperor?] 521 asked.

[One must prepare for every possibility,] Shen Chun replied.

Compared to the throne, love sometimes feels insignificant; he only trusted himself.

With strict palace security, the carriage from Prince Yi’s residence stopped at the palace gates. When Shen Chun stepped down, countless armed guards had already surrounded him.

“By imperial decree, all entering and leaving the palace must disarm. Prince, please understand,” the head of the guards said.

“A check is fine,” Shen Chun replied, spreading his arms.

The guards searched him thoroughly but found no weapons except his sword. They stepped back, and the head guard cupped his fists in salute. “Indeed, no other weapons. Apologies for the trouble, Prince.”

“No matter,” Shen Chun smiled, then stepped into the palace grounds.

The palace was heavily guarded as always. The sentries on duty remained just as numerous, yet even the faintest clinking of armor in the shadows was enough for Shen Chun to sense how many troops were stationed there.

[Host, heavy troops are ambushed along both passages,] 521 warned. [Be careful.]

[Understood,] Shen Chun replied.

A palace attendant led the way ahead. Everything was as before, yet somehow different.

When he arrived before the hall, the grand doors were wide open. Several senior ministers walked out, glancing at each other uncertainly. Grand Secretary Mu was the first to step forward and bow. “Greetings, Prince Yi.”

The other ministers followed suit. Shen Chun smiled. “No need for formalities, gentlemen.”

His gaze then turned to Dou Yun, who stood to the side. He said, “I heard that Minister Dou has recently welcomed a son. Now you have both a daughter and a son, congratulations.”

Dou Yun had already had a daughter; now, with the birth of a son, he was truly blessed with both a legitimate daughter and son, a full and fortunate household.

Over all these years, there had never been the slightest spark between Dou Yun and Feng Feibai. Their relationship had remained strictly one of sovereign and subject. Shen Chun was certain by now, there was no emotional entanglement between the two.

“Thank you, Prince Yi,” Dou Yun said, his expression complex as he looked at Shen Chun.

What the emperor had arranged today was a trap, inviting the guest into the urn.¹an idiom in Chinese that refers to luring someone into a trap—often a scheme carefully laid out to catch or corner someone, especially for retribution or confrontation. Origin: The idiom comes from a historical story during the Tang Dynasty. A cruel official named Lai Junchen used a large urn to boil people alive as punishment. Another official turned the tables and invited him into the same urn—hence the phrase came to mean turning someone’s own trap back on them, or setting someone up.

After so many years of working side by side, Prince Yi had done right by the empire and the emperor. But because he was not of the rightful bloodline, the court and the people would never turn to him.

Years of protection, of service, and now it was the classic case of “the bird is gone, the bow is put away.”²This is a Chinese idiom that comes from ancient military and political texts. It means: Once someone has outlived their usefulness, they are discarded or even eliminated. Origin: In times of war, hunters or generals might use bows to shoot birds or enemies. But once the war is over and the birds are gone, the bow is no longer needed—and may be put away, forgotten, or even destroyed. In history, powerful advisors or generals were often removed or executed once peace was restored, because their power became a threat to the emperor or ruler. Even Dou Yun felt a deep sense of sorrow and regret. Someone so exceptional, in no way inferior to any ruler in history, would now bury his bones within the palace walls, his brilliance never to shine again.

“You’re too kind,” Shen Chun replied with a smile.

“Prince Yi, it’s time to go in. Any later and His Majesty will grow impatient,” the palace attendant urged.

“This prince will go in first,” Shen Chun said, hands clasped behind his back as he followed the attendant.

Stepping into the grand hall, he was met with a vast emptiness, only the emperor seated upon the throne, and behind him, the doors slowly closing shut.

Shen Chun stood below the steps, gazing at the emperor whose face was partly obscured behind the flowing curtains of Liuyu silk. He bowed and said, “This subject pays respects to Your Majesty. May Your Majesty enjoy everlasting peace.”

Feng Feibai did not respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the man standing beneath him. Shen Chun wasn’t dressed in plain clothes today. Instead, he wore full court attire, threads of gold woven intricately throughout, the elegance undeniable. Though the black undertones were meant to subdue its brilliance, the robe still radiated splendor. Yet on Shen Chun, it did not feel overbearing or ostentatious. It simply suited him…perfectly.

He was meant to be radiant. He belonged in robes of grandeur. The more lavish the garment, the more he became the center of all attention, the more irresistibly captivating he became.

There were many in the capital who secretly admired him. Prince Yi, Shen Chun, had long been the man of countless women’s dreams, he was also his… the one he held in his heart.

“Does Beloved Minister know why I summoned you here today?” Feng Feibai’s voice was cold as he spoke from the throne.

“For matters of love,” Shen Chun replied with a smile.

Feng Feibai’s breath caught slightly. “You… you’re truly not afraid?”

“I am afraid,” Shen Chun said, taking a few steps forward. He lifted the hem of his robe in advance as he ascended the steps, coming to stand directly before Feng Feibai.

The emperor’s flowing veil shimmered between them, but it couldn’t hide the emotion and pain in his eyes. Shen Chun glanced around casually. “The hall is surrounded by heavy guards. If a volley of arrows were released, no matter how skilled I am, I’d end up a pincushion.”

Feng Feibai pressed his lips together, but then Shen Chun added, “But with Your Majesty here… standing before me without the slightest defense, I find I’m not afraid at all.”

Feng Feibai lifted his gaze and saw Shen Chun calmly taking a seat, right beside his imperial throne. “Shen Chun…”

“What did Your Majesty hear?” Shen Chun asked lightly.

He sat on the dragon throne as if it were any ordinary chair. After all, a throne was just that, an ordinary seat. It was only because of where it was placed that people treated it as something exalted, as if it were above all else.

“After all is settled… are you planning to return to the northwest?” Feng Feibai asked in a low voice.

Though he had stationed heavy guards, it wasn’t to take Shen Chun’s life, but to keep him here, to keep him from leaving, to keep him by his side.

But even if he could keep the man, what use was a body if the heart had already gone?

“I am,” Shen Chun replied.

A wave of desolation surged in Feng Feibai’s heart, and his eyes began to sting with unshed tears.

“But that was what I thought before,” Shen Chun said, raising his hand to gently clasp Feng Feibai’s.

In the two years they had been together, there had never been such an intimate gesture between them. Feng Feibai’s palm trembled slightly. He suddenly turned to look at him and asked, “And now?”

“My beloved is here, what would I do in the Northwest?” Shen Chun murmured, reaching up to brush aside the flowing tassels that veiled Feng Feibai’s face. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to those faintly trembling lips.

Feng Feibai’s eyes widened, his mind going utterly blank.

His thoughts scattered, but his waist was soon encircled by a firm arm, deepening the kiss between them.

The grand hall was silent, so still that even a pin drop could be heard. In that moment, Feng Feibai could even hear the sound of his own breathing.

Their lips parted, the beaded tassels of the emperor’s crown fell once more, fluttering and swaying like the turmoil in Feng Feibai’s heart.

“Your Majesty’s lips truly are made for kissing,” Shen Chun said with a light laugh. “Not a bit of my observation was wrong.”

Such flirtatious words, no one else would dare utter them before the emperor. But spoken from Shen Chun’s lips, they made Feng Feibai’s heart feel nothing but sweetness, as if even his mouth still lingered with the taste of it. “Then why,” he asked, voice low and a little aggrieved, “have you kept your distance from me these past two years?”

If it were true affection, then one would want to draw near the moment they laid eyes on the person. Yet Shen Chun had remained calm and reserved, so composed that Feng Feibai had begun to wonder if it had all been in his own head. Not until today had he shown otherwise…

“How does Your Majesty know,” Shen Chun said with a quiet laugh, “that I wasn’t enduring it with great difficulty all this time?”

The bitterness in Feng Feibai’s heart slowly faded, but the grievance lingered still. He asked, somewhat stubbornly, “Then why did you seem so indifferent to the Empress Dowager’s arrangement?”

Unlike him, whenever others sent beauties to the Prince Regent’s residence, he could hardly bear the sourness in his heart.

“I was plenty jealous,” Shen Chun said, cupping Feng Feibai’s face in one hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “But throwing a tantrum over a woman would’ve been undignified. When I heard about it, I only hated that our two-year agreement felt too long. Why else do you think I came rushing into the palace that day, if not to pull Your Majesty back?”

Feng Feibai recalled how suddenly he had appeared that day. His lips curled upward, no longer able to hide his smile. “Truly? You weren’t there to discuss state affairs?”

“If one wishes to appear composed, one must find a proper excuse,” Shen Chun said with a smile.

Feng Feibai had never felt so at ease, every trace of coldness in his heart had already melted into honey. “I believe you.”

“In that case,” Shen Chun said leisurely, “shall we settle the matter of Your Majesty’s little ‘trap’ today?”

Feng Feibai: “…”

…He had completely forgotten about that.

Support me on ko-fi for more additional updates~ ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ

• 1
  an idiom in Chinese that refers to luring someone into a trap—often a scheme carefully laid out to catch or corner someone, especially for retribution or confrontation. Origin: The idiom comes from a historical story during the Tang Dynasty. A cruel official named Lai Junchen used a large urn to boil people alive as punishment. Another official turned the tables and invited him into the same urn—hence the phrase came to mean turning someone’s own trap back on them, or setting someone up.
• 2
  This is a Chinese idiom that comes from ancient military and political texts. It means: Once someone has outlived their usefulness, they are discarded or even eliminated. Origin: In times of war, hunters or generals might use bows to shoot birds or enemies. But once the war is over and the birds are gone, the bow is no longer needed—and may be put away, forgotten, or even destroyed. In history, powerful advisors or generals were often removed or executed once peace was restored, because their power became a threat to the emperor or ruler.