Years ago, to protect her child, she had chosen to accompany the late emperor rather than risk suspicion from Shen Chun. All these years, her careful conduct in the inner palace had been for the same purpose—to safeguard her child.
Yet now it felt somewhat absurd. The very person she and her child had once feared was now the one ensuring her child’s safety.
The Empress Dowager knew full well Shen Chun’s abilities. The two-year pact, if he had not willingly relinquished authority, would never have led to the favorable situation they now enjoyed.
If he was protecting His Majesty, it truly outweighed taking three thousand beauties into the harem. Even if she were someday laid to rest in the earth, she would no longer need to live in constant worry.
The Empress Dowager sat in silence for a long while, her mind filled with countless thoughts. Yet the more she pondered, the emptier her mind seemed to become. She could not allow her son to lose the one he loved, and she also wanted him to have someone to protect him, this, she realized, was the best course of action.
“Prince and His Majesty have pledged themselves to each other for life,” the Empress Dowager said, “so naturally he would not wish for His Majesty to have children with another woman. But the empire cannot go without an heir. If this matter is settled, a child should be chosen from the imperial clan to be adopted by His Majesty, so that when I am gone, I can answer to the late emperor.”
“This is only right,” Shen Chun replied with a smile.
The Empress Dowager felt a measure of relief. “Very well, I shall return for now. You and His Majesty… do not take advantage of him.”
She naturally understood what the “Dragon Sun”1It literally refers to “the love of Longyang,” a historical euphemism from Chinese history for male-male romantic or sexual relationships, especially involving an emperor and his male favorites. affection meant, when men were together, one must always take the subordinate position. Her Feibai did not seem like someone who would be beneath another, yet someone like Prince Yi could never occupy the lower role.
“I will take my leave. The Empress Dowager should choose a shady place to walk to avoid the heat,” Shen Chun said as he rose and bowed.
In the past, Shen Chun would never have said such words. A widow should avoid any appearance of impropriety, but now, his words seemed to carry another meaning entirely.
The Empress Dowager glanced at him, then stepped into her sedan chair under the parasol held by palace attendants. “In the past, only His Majesty would speak to me like this.”
“Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager is my elder. I am simply fulfilling my duty with reason and filial respect,” Shen Chun said with a smile.
“Go on back,” the Empress Dowager said, raising her hand.
Though her expression remained composed, her heart felt considerably lighter. To be able to extend love even to those around her showed that there was always a measure of genuine feeling.
As for the other affections, matters of a lifetime, who could ever predict them completely?
The Empress Dowager departed with her ceremonial entourage. Shen Chun turned to leave, but at the corner he saw the emperor standing silently.
Jin Rong hurriedly bowed. “Prince Yi.”
Feng Feibai snapped back to attention and looked at him. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
He had merely come out to check because someone had been gone for a long time, not expecting to overhear the conversation between the Empress Dowager and Shen Chun. He had worried that his mother might be upset, but after Shen Chun finished speaking, her mood had unexpectedly calmed.
Shen Chun understood the bitterness in his heart, his filial devotion, his resentment toward the emperor’s unfaithfulness, and the reason behind his years of patience. And although the Empress Dowager had been angry, her concern was for the sake of his entire life.
What had once felt like a weight of a thousand pounds on his heart wasn’t so difficult after all.
And it was all because of Shen Chun.
“No matter,” Shen Chun said, brushing his hand over his cheek. “The sun is so harsh. Aren’t you afraid of heatstroke if you don’t stay in the shade? And you’re not even using an umbrella.”
“It’s too far to hear from there, and carrying an umbrella would be too conspicuous,” Feng Feibai said, pressing his lips together. “This matter should have been for me to tell Mother, yet it troubled you instead.”
“You and I are no different; it’s the same whichever way it’s said,” Shen Chun said. He reached out, took the umbrella handed to him by a nearby eunuch, and opened it over Feng Feibai’s head. “The Empress Dowager and His Majesty share a deep mother-son bond. When emotions run strong, misunderstandings are easier, and it’s hard to stay calm. But someone like me, an outsider, can speak, and she is able to listen with a clear mind. As long as the result is good, that’s enough.”
The shade above brought a cool relief. Feng Feibai lifted his hand and held Shen Chun’s, feeling not the oppressive heat but warmth instead.
Both his mother and this man loved him.
“Let’s head back,” Shen Chun said with a smile.
“Alright.” Feng Feibai walked alongside him.
521 estimated the distance to the pavilion and the corner, as well as the host’s hearing, and asked: [Could the host really not have noticed the little emperor?]
“Of course I noticed,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “But I didn’t do anything wrong, why shouldn’t he notice?”
Since it had been done, it was better that he had seen.
[Makes sense.] 521 agreed and took note.
That day, when the Empress Dowager returned, she said little. Later, she summoned Feng Feibai over, and the mother and son had a long, private conversation. After that, any rumors in the palace were swiftly quashed by her intervention.
Yet the palace was no place to hide things, such matters could never be kept entirely secret. Moreover, neither of the two involved had any intention of hiding it.
Feng Feibai had expected, once the matter became known, that ministers would protest as recorded in the annals, clashing against the pillars in outrage. But to his surprise, the court was enveloped in silence. The ministers said nothing; even their glances, discreet though they were, seemed as if they were avoiding something, yet no one spoke.
As for the topics discussed and the memorials submitted, they all recommended children from the imperial clan. Each candidate’s merits were carefully enumerated, and the clan welcomed the proposals with approval.
At first, Feng Feibai felt somewhat puzzled. But when he revisited the records of past “affairs of the same sex”, he began to notice the clues hidden within.
Throughout history, emperors who favored men, and men who served the emperor with their beauty, were treated no differently than with women. If the emperor showed any favoritism, they were condemned as seducers, corrupting the ruler.
And they were recorded this way simply because they were subordinates of the emperor.
Shen Chun, however, was different. He commanded the Northwestern army, suppressed rebellions across the realm, and wielded immense power. Though time had passed and his deadly deeds of the past seemed erased, he had still eliminated many corrupt officials over the years. If he acted, he would remain just as formidable as ever.
Although the matter had become known, ministers and officials only dared to discuss it in whispers. No one dared openly call him a seducer of the emperor; some even spread rumors from the palace, claiming that it was the emperor himself who was actually Shen Chun’s favored companion.
Titles and labels mattered little—what delighted Feng Feibai was that the world now knew Shen Chun belonged to him.
Feng Feibai was pleased, yet he remained unaware of the complex thoughts swirling in the ministers’ minds.
For years, Prince Yi and His Majesty had been at odds. The ministers had feared choosing the wrong side. The palace upheaval of the past, the subsequent lockdown of the capital, and Prince Yi’s solo entry into the emperor’s carefully arranged domain, they had expected mutual ruin or at least heavy losses for one party. Now, in hindsight, perhaps while they were anxiously calculating and scheming, His Majesty and Prince Yi were lost in their own passionate world, perhaps even quietly amused at the ministers’ needless worries.
Truly… outrageous.
Dou Yun did not speak much in court, not because he had nothing to say, but because no one in the court dared comment on the matter.
“Sir, His Majesty and Prince Yi have engaged in Dragon Sun relations. This matter is now known throughout the court and recorded in the annals. Such an event may tarnish His Majesty’s reputation,” Dou Yun explained when he visited the elder minister after the court session.
“The realm is at peace now. Ministers only dare discuss such things in private,” the elder minister, his hair graying, said firmly. “Besides, even if you spoke, it would accomplish nothing.”
“Why?” Dou Yun asked respectfully.
“If it were an ordinary man, or any other court official, daring to do such a thing, the ministers would oppose it,” the elder minister said with a chuckle. “But this is Prince Yi. His political achievements turn even this matter into a tale of admiration.”
Dou Yun naturally knew that Prince Yi wielded great power and that the people admired him. Yet two men together, even if no one dared speak openly, would surely become the subject of distorted gossip in unofficial records. His Majesty, wise and beloved by the people, might find such rumors challenging to reconcile with the image of a sagely ruler. “But if His Majesty does not leave heirs, would that not be unfilial?”
Among the three forms of unfilial conduct, leaving no heir is considered the gravest.
“There is no need to worry about this matter, then,” the elder minister said with a kindly smile. “The Empress Dowager cares most deeply about His Majesty. If she has said nothing, it means she has already given her approval.”
“But, sir, didn’t you once say that the heavens have no second sun?2it’s a metaphor used in imperial China to emphasize that there can only be one supreme ruler at a time, the emperor is like the only sun in the sky. Historically, it’s often invoked to justify central authority and to stress that no one else can share the throne.” Dou Yun asked.
The emperor’s position is unique; no one should lie beside him on the bed of state. Yet now, in this situation, it is as if two suns shine together.
“You, with all your remarkable political achievements, still fail to see things clearly,” the elder minister said with a chuckle and a sigh. “They say imperial authority is divinely granted, but you and I both know, there are no such gods. The saying that ‘heaven has no second sun’ exists only to justify centralizing power. In every dynasty, the rise and fall of the state depended on one ruler. If the ruler is wise, the people live in peace; if tyrannical, the people suffer, even to the point of extreme famine and chaos. When two rulers clash, it is like wounding a thousand enemies while harming eight hundred of your own. But if there is balance, and both act with the people’s welfare at heart, such a situation can be ideal.”
“Ideal,” Dou Yun murmured.
“Indeed,” the elder minister said. “State affairs are like household matters. When a couple discusses together, the decisions are optimal. If only one rules alone, imbalance follows. Do you understand?”
“I understand, sir,” Dou Yun said, bowing respectfully.
Though his heart was still weighed down with concerns, he now understood that the matter could be considered resolved.
A matter that should have been kept hidden, His Majesty and Prince Yi carried out openly, and no one dared comment.
If it were his own reputation at stake, could he act with the same boldness?
With the ministers remaining silent, Feng Feibai truly breathed a sigh of relief. Yet as he examined the children of the imperial clan, he found himself unsure. “If one is to be adopted, which do you think is the most suitable?”
Many of the clan had multiple children, but now he would have to guide one of them, and Feng Feibai had no certainty in his heart.
He had, of course, seen those soft, dough-like little creatures. They looked cute enough, but when mischievous, they could turn everything upside down. Feng Feibai couldn’t help but wonder if he had once been that tiny himself.
“If you can’t decide, bring them all into the palace and see,” Shen Chun said, sitting nearby.
Feng Feibai froze, his fingers gripping the memorial. His resistance almost reached its peak. “Wouldn’t they end up tearing apart my imperial garden?”
Raising a child in the palace was easy enough, palace attendants took care of everything, and food and clothing were abundant. But he had grown up as a child himself and naturally understood how harsh life could be without parental love.
But if careful guidance were required, Shen Chun would naturally take part as well, perhaps holding the child, teaching reading and writing, reading memorials aloud, instructing in archery, taking them riding… and the list went on endlessly.
Feng Feibai turned the idea over in his mind and still felt decidedly reluctant.
“Is it really that frightening?” Shen Chun asked with a smile.
“Of course it is,” Feng Feibai said, closing the memorial. “You don’t know how unruly the children of the imperial clan can be; climbing trees, riding recklessly, fishing in the water. Many are utterly unlearned.”
They held no real power, but had hereditary titles. As long as they caused no trouble, a life of wealth and status would suffice.
“Sounds truly troublesome,” Shen Chun said.
“Nowhere near as much as in my childhood,” Feng Feibai replied, his gaze sweeping over Shen Chun, though revealing nothing.
Shen Chun noticed the look but pretended not to, and then heard the emperor add, “What do you think, my trusted minister?”
Shen Chun couldn’t help but laugh. Feng Feibai’s earlobes tinged red, and he said, slightly vexed, “What are you laughing at?”
“Your Majesty was indeed very obedient as a child,” Shen Chun said, looking at him. “You never tried to touch Feiyu’s hooves, which nearly gave me a cold sweat.”
When he was young and learning martial arts, the little emperor had been diligent, but children were fragile. For instance, he once thought himself strong enough to lift a heavy spear on his own and almost crushed his hand. Another time, while learning to ride, he approached Shen Chun’s horse too closely and nearly got kicked flying. If Shen Chun hadn’t intervened in time, the little emperor would have suffered badly.
Even now, Feng Feibai shuddered at the memory. “It’s all your fault, your horse was far too fierce.”
“Yes, it’s all the horse’s fault for being too fierce,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “Your Majesty was very obedient.”
Feiyu, a wild horse tamed from the northwest, could travel a thousand miles a day, was intelligent and knew the way home, and recognized only one master. Anyone else who mounted him risked being thrown off, and his hind hooves could not be touched. Yet the little emperor, fascinated by the horse’s majesty, had quietly tried to approach, and nearly got hurt.
Feng Feibai felt a bit embarrassed, but he turned his gaze and spoke frankly: “I do not wish to raise a young child yet.”
He did not want to share Shen Chun with anyone else, not for now, at least.
“Then we’ll delay for a while. When Your Majesty feels ready, the adoption can happen,” Shen Chun said. “Choosing one who truly suits your heart is never easy.”
“Very well,” Feng Feibai said, feeling a weight lifted and a sense of relief. “I will discuss this matter with the Empress Dowager.”
“The Empress Dowager loves Your Majesty dearly; she will surely agree,” Shen Chun said.
Although the Empress Dowager had suggested adopting a child from the imperial clan, it was only a precaution. Feng Feibai was still young, and adopting too early could lead to awkwardness later, if he regretted being with Shen Chun, married an empress, and had children, complications would be inevitable. Shen Chun understood this, yet he would not voice it to Feng Feibai.
Feng Feibai smiled. “If Mother does not agree, I shall simply ask her myself.”
As Shen Chun had said, sometimes one must learn to take a detour.
“Those matters are easy enough to handle,” Shen Chun said. He reached out and hooked Feng Feibai’s index finger, resting on the table, and lightly traced it, his touch casual yet deliberate. “Why do you not wish to raise a young child, Your Majesty?”
Though they had shared many intimate moments before, Feng Feibai felt a sudden, intense flutter when Shen Chun hooked his finger. The gentle tracing, like feathers brushing against his heart again and again, left him restless and unable to stay still.
Feng Feibai tried to withdraw his finger, but Shen Chun gently held it and smiled. “Your Majesty has not yet answered my question.”
Their eyes met. To dispel the uncontrollable tingling sensation, Feng Feibai, his earlobes flushed, said, “Naturally, I do not wish for you to teach them.”
Shen Chun held his hand and leaned closer, smiling. “Why not?”
“I do not wish to share you with anyone,” Feng Feibai said, trapped by the teasing, with no way to retreat. He faced him directly, though his voice gradually softened into a whisper. “You are so remarkable; they will surely admire you. If one of them later harbors feelings like mine, would it not be like inviting a wolf into the house…?”
Feng Feibai was used to keeping his feelings hidden. To speak his heart so openly was truly embarrassing. Jealousy over children might invite ridicule if it became known, yet this was his genuine emotion.
He averted his gaze, unwilling to look at Shen Chun. But in the next moment, he was scooped up into Shen Chun’s arms. Before he could even react in surprise, he was gently teased, Shen Chun’s laughter ringing in his ear: “Your Majesty, you are truly adorable.”
Feng Feibai looked at him, his heart racing. “Do you not think my words are rather childish?”
To feel jealousy, to be wary, to reveal one’s truest self, all of it proved the emperor in his arms loved him deeply. Shen Chun teased, kneading his earlobe with a smile: “I only find you adorable. You need not be jealous; even if you were to adopt a child, I would never care for them as I care for you.”
If the emperor had not been so beautiful, clever, and adorable in his youth, or if Shen Chun had not had duties to attend to, he might not have been so attentive. “Attentive” in fact, often meant letting the child fend for himself, along with the countless obstacles and challenges Shen Chun later set to train the young emperor.
Yet now, with their feelings settled, the emperor seemed to remember only the care he had received.
If a child from the imperial clan were to be adopted, it could not be only one; only through competition could the most outstanding be selected, this was a flaw of the system.
But survival of the fittest had always been so. At most, Shen Chun would find capable teachers and worthy companions for the children. How they walked the path ahead would still be up to themselves.
“Then that is settled,” Feng Feibai said, satisfied to have it so. “When the adoption takes place, I shall fulfill my duties as a father and teach the child with care.”
“Your Majesty isn’t afraid I’ll be jealous?” Shen Chun asked with a smile.
Feng Feibai’s eyes widened, but they sparkled with amusement. “Of course nothing could ever make me jealous of you.”
So he could be jealous too.
The matter of adoption was temporarily set aside. Some ministers had hoped to discuss it further, but the Empress Dowager spoke: the emperor was in the prime of youth; there was no need to rush matters of heirs.
The affairs of the inner palace were under her control. Once she spoke, the topic could only be set aside for the time being.
…
In the spring, the waters of Jiangnan were full and shimmering, shrouded in mist that blurred the distant tender-green mountains, making the scenery graceful and exquisite beyond compare.
Along the lakeside embankment, willows spread like carpets of green, with peach blossoms scattered among them. Fallen petals covered the ground as two people rode past, trampling countless red petals into the mud. The peach branches brushed against the riders, leaving streaks of pink that clung reluctantly to them.
Passersby hurried along, stealing fleeting glances, yet many paused in their tracks. From within a carriage, a young lady lifted the window with delicate hands, hiding half her face behind a fan. Watching the horses rush by, her cheeks flushed as she softly asked, “Whose son is that?”
“Miss, you can tell at a glance from the tack, it’s from the capital,” the maid beside her said. “We cannot dare provoke someone like that.”
“The men from the capital seem different from those of Jiangnan,” the young lady said. “Go and find out. The mountains and waters will bring people together, perhaps it’s fate.”
“Miss…” the maid sighed helplessly, but turned and went to inquire.
Yet along this embankment, such sights were far from uncommon.
The riders slowed their horses near a spot by the lake. As they approached the ferry, guards stepped forward to block them. “No outsiders may enter here!”
The rider drew a token from his waist. At once, the guards stepped aside.
The rider glanced back, tugged the reins, and together with those behind him, proceeded to the ferry.
The horse’s hooves clattered, hesitated a few times, then snorted and came to a stop. The man dismounted, his jade-white sash fluttering, petals falling from his clothes with his movements. He patted his steed twice, released the reins, and walked over to another horse, pulling its reins with a smile. “Feibai, we’ve arrived.”
Feng Feibai stepped down from the stirrups. His movements were clean and precise, yet he still felt he could never match Shen Chun’s effortless grace. “This is your villa?” he asked.
“This is the ferry. The villa is on the island; we’ll have to take a boat across,” Shen Chun said, releasing the reins and gesturing toward the dock where a boat awaited.
The horses were taken by attendants. Shen Chun and Feng Feibai stood at the ferry, greeted by household staff. “Young master, the boat is ready.”
The ferry dock here was not large, yet boats of every kind were ready; painted pleasure barges, black-canopied boats, even small dugout canoes. Some could hold hundreds, while the tiniest seemed fit for only one or two.
Feng Feibai rarely approached the water. Even now, traveling through Jiangnan by river, he was used to large ships, which glided steadily as if walking on solid ground. From such vessels, the water felt far below. These smaller boats, however, seemed so low that one could almost touch the lake’s surface with a hand.
“Which would you like to take?” Shen Chun asked, looking at him.
Feng Feibai’s gaze shifted from Shen Chun to the boats. “How do we get across in these?” he asked.
“Replying to the young master: the painted barge has large oars and a sail; the black-canopied boat can be rowed by a boatman; and the dugout canoe can hold only two people, making a single trip for one person at a time,” the household attendant said respectfully.
Feng Feibai looked around, his gaze sweeping over the black-canopied boat and the canoe. The scenery here was beautiful, unlike the capital. One could enjoy the view while rowing, though too many strangers would spoil the experience.
Observing his expression, Shen Chun spoke: “We’ll take the dugout canoe. The others won’t need to come.”
Feng Feibai looked at him. Shen Chun smiled. “I can row.”
“Then we’ll take the dugout canoe,” Feng Feibai said.
“Yes, sir,” the household attendant replied, turning to pull the canoe closer.
Shen Chun stepped onto the boat and turned to extend his hand to Feng Feibai. “Be careful, there’s water on the shore.”
From a distance, the canoe looked small; up close, it seemed even lower to the water. It swayed slightly in the wind, as if, the moment the attendant let go of the rope, it would drift away. Feng Feibai glanced into the water, glimpsing the swaying water plants below, though he couldn’t see the bottom. A flicker of unease passed through him, and for an instant, he regretted choosing this boat.
He was unafraid on land, where the ground was steady, but this was water. What would happen if the boat capsized?
But Shen Chun had already extended his hand, and Feng Feibai reached up to grasp it. Feeling the strength in that hand, he felt reassured. He stepped onto the dugout canoe, lightly rocking it, and then placed his other foot aboard.
The small boat sank slightly and wobbled. Instinctively, Feng Feibai grabbed Shen Chun’s arm, unwilling to let go for a long moment.
“Do not be afraid, Your Majesty. I am well versed in water. Even if the boat were to overturn, I will not let you drown,” Shen Chun whispered into his ear, supporting his waist.
Only then did Feng Feibai relax, tentatively releasing his grip. As he tried to sit, the boat swayed again. Shen Chun guided his hands to the sides of the canoe. Only when Feng Feibai was steady did Shen Chun turn and sit himself.
The household attendant untied the rope. Shen Chun took the oar and pushed the canoe away from the dock. As he rowed, the boat slowly drifted from the shore.
Once seated steadily, Feng Feibai no longer felt the rocking so sharply. Yet with water all around and nothing to grasp, he kept his back and waist rigid. Watching Shen Chun row with such ease, he felt a surge of admiration. “You weren’t born by the rivers, so how are you so skilled with water?”
“In the northwest, there’s snowmelt. When I was young, I used to catch cold-water fish there,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “Relax, Your Majesty. You won’t fall in.”
“I’m just not used to a boat like this,” Feng Feibai said, yet he tried to loosen up, forcing himself to forget he was on the water and instead take in the scenery and people of the Jiangnan lake.
The Jiangnan scenery was like a painting, emerald waters brushing against gentle willows, soft and tender. Even the person sitting across from him seemed to carry a hint of that misty, watery gentleness.
“If you’re still afraid, place your hand here,” Shen Chun said, taking Feng Feibai’s hand and resting it on his lap. “We’re far from the shore now, you can’t see it anymore.”
Feng Feibai held onto his knee, and the pangs of panic gradually faded. Though the boat was small, it was intimate; they were close enough that a mere glance could take in the other. Together, in this single canoe, they formed their own little world on the lake. “Why do you have a villa like this in Jiangnan?” he asked.
“The scenery in Jiangnan is uniquely beautiful,” Shen Chun said with a smile. “I thought that if I ever retired from court affairs, it would be the perfect place to roam the mountains and waters.”
He needed to live his life in this world, to accomplish what needed to be done, and to take time to relax when the time allowed.
“Hmm?” Feng Feibai drew out the syllable, “When did you prepare this?”
There was clearly a trap hidden in the question, yet such an obvious thing was not a harmless lie. Shen Chun replied, “Your Majesty, it was prepared before you came of age.”
Feng Feibai now fully understood that he did not care for power or wealth. From the very beginning, Shen Chun had already prepared to leave. Fortunately… he had grown slowly, leaving a few extra years. “And now?”
“Now…” Shen Chun smiled. “Now, Your Majesty can come here to enjoy yourself. When the affairs of the court tire you, and you pass the throne to the new emperor, we will make this our retreat, wandering the mountains and waters in leisure, resting when weary. How does that sound?”
“Good.” Feng Feibai rested his head on Shen Chun’s lap.
The canoe moved slowly, but steadily reached the dock on the island, where household staff were waiting. Seeing the boat arrive, they used bamboo poles to guide it in and secured the rope. “Young master, please be careful stepping ashore.”
Shen Chun stepped onto the dock first, then helped Feng Feibai up. After swaying on the boat for so long, Feng Feibai still felt slightly unsteady on solid ground. He steadied himself and took in the full view of the island.
The trees were not particularly tall, yet lush and verdant. Their branches reflected in the water, surrounding the view with endless green. No rooftops or buildings were in sight, it felt like a hidden paradise. “This place is truly wonderful. How did you find such a perfect spot?”
Shen Chun smiled, about to answer, when footsteps sounded from afar, followed by a voice full of delight calling out, “Young master!”
The voice was elegant and gentle, as if carrying the mist of the forest itself.
Shen Chun looked over. A young man was stepping down the stairs, clad in a robe of soft blue. His features were exquisite, like a painting, exuding a scholarly aura mingled with the gentle charm of Jiangnan’s misty rain. He blended seamlessly with the forest, as if a creature born of the woods.
“Who is this?” Shen Chun asked.
521 reminded him: [Liu Zhuqing, the beauty from the inn you sent over.]
Shen Chun racked his memory and finally dredged up a faint image. Back then, the youth had been inexperienced, carrying the faint worldly airs cultivated at the inn, entirely different from the refined presence before him now.
If his appearance alone might have scored a seven, the combination of environment and demeanor now elevated him easily to a nine.
He was certainly beautiful, though somewhat troublesome.
Lost in thought, Shen Chun noticed the youth had already approached and bowed. His eyes shone with delight as he said, “Greetings, Young Master.”
Shen Chun spoke. “And you are?”
The question pulled Feng Feibai’s wandering thoughts back and caused Liu Zhuqing’s smile to dim slightly. “My name is Liu Zhuqing,” he said. “I am the book attendant at Young Master’s villa. I heard you were coming today, so I’ve come to welcome you.”
“I see. This is Young Master Bai,” Shen Chun said, introducing Feng Feibai who stood beside him.
“Greetings, Young Master Bai,” Liu Zhuqing said respectfully.
Feng Feibai nodded slightly. Shen Chun then said, “Lead the way.”
Liu Zhuqing walked ahead. He had originally been waiting, but seeing Shen Chun gently support the handsome man’s waist, he called out, “The shore is slippery, please be careful.”
Liu Zhuqing’s expression flickered for a moment, but he quickly concealed his emotions and silently led the way.
The small island was quite large, winding like a twisting snake, revealing a new scene at every step. Clear streams ran through it, so transparent that one could see the bottom. After walking for about half an hour, they finally arrived at the villa’s gate, shaded by trees.
Unlike the grandeur of the capital, the buildings here were delicate and refined.
There were few people in the villa, but they had all gathered in the courtyard to greet Shen Chun respectfully. “Greetings, Young Master.”
“Everyone, get up. Are the rooms ready?” Shen Chun asked.
“I heard Young Master would be coming, so the rooms are all prepared. Once you arrive, you can rest,” the steward replied respectfully. “Though Young Master did not specify two people, the other rooms have also been kept ready. They only need fresh bedding to be occupied.”
“No need. Young Master Bai will stay with me,” Shen Chun said. “In this villa, his word is mine.”
“Yes, sir,” the household staff replied in unison. “Greetings, Young Master Bai.”
Feng Feibai glanced over. Among the household staff, some were robust and healthy, while others had ailments, some limped, some had lost an eye, and some were missing fingers. He thought briefly, then said, “No need for formalities.”
Though he had worn plain clothes, years on the throne had given him an unworldly grace. The staff dared not presume to interpret his thoughts; they respectfully led them into the courtyard.
Tea and snacks were brought. Feng Feibai sat down, relaxed his posture, and sampled some fruit unlike anything in the capital. “This tastes good,” he said.
Shen Chun picked up one and placed it in his mouth. “Indeed, it is good. It has the flavor of lychee. If you like, I can have the recipe brought so it can be made even after we return to the capital.”
“They’ve been mixed with lychee, but with all the travel and work, it’s not necessary,” Feng Feibai said after eating a few pieces and taking a few sips of water. Hesitating for a moment, he asked, “Why are there people with such disabilities in your villa?”
Shen Chun could have, of course, chosen only the able-bodied, those with pleasing appearances, but that would have required simply spending more silver.
“Those people were once orphans, unfortunate souls with no parents,” Shen Chun said, twirling his cup with a smile. “With nowhere else to go, they were sent to my villa. They’re all capable enough to take care of themselves and earn their own keep.”
“I see,” Feng Feibai said, his expression softening. “Prince Yi, you are truly benevolent.”
“It’s just a matter of convenience. They know how to take care of themselves. If I ever encountered someone lazy or gluttonous, I would send them away just the same,” Shen Chun said with a smile.
“That’s already the best arrangement,” Feng Feibai replied.
These people, disabled and orphaned, would likely be mocked or fall into despair if left in the outside world. Here, in this hidden paradise, they were in the safest, most suitable place.
Thinking of his beloved, who cared for the world yet was kind and benevolent, Feng Feibai felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude, how fortunate he was to be able to hold his hand through life.
Shen Chun smiled and turned his head to look at him. “Is this all Your Majesty wishes to ask?”
Feng Feibai met his gaze. “What else is there?”
“Liu Zhuqing,” Shen Chun said, setting down his cup.
Hearing the name, Feng Feibai’s lips curved slightly. “You want me to ask? Well, I refuse to.”
When Feng Feibai first saw Liu Zhuqing, his heart had naturally skipped a beat. The youth was undeniably handsome, far surpassing many others, and it was clear he harbored some affection for Shen Chun. Yet judging from Shen Chun’s expression, he treated the matter entirely formally and professionally, there was not a hint of familiarity or hidden intimacy.
Shen Chun was beloved by the people; both inside and outside the palace, many admired him. Compared to the emperor’s authority, these admirers held a deeper, more willing devotion toward Shen Chun.
At first, Feng Feibai had felt a twinge of unease. But then he realized: Shen Chun was his. As long as Shen Chun had no interest, it mattered not how much others admired him, it would lead nowhere. If anything, those admirers should feel envy and jealousy, not he himself.
Shen Chun chuckled at this. “Your Majesty has learned some bad habits.”
Since he did not ask, it meant it had not weighed on his mind.
“Your counsel is wise,” Feng Feibai said.
The villa’s scenery was exquisite. Even upon waking, the sounds of birdsong reached his ears, clear and melodious, never annoying, but rather calming, washing away the weariness that clung to him.
The bed curtains cast a soft gloom, and as Feng Feibai opened his eyes, he felt an unprecedented sense of ease. Birdsong filled the air, mingled with the warm, familiar breath of the person beside him. Shen Chun’s hand rested at his waist as always, so that even in a different bed, he felt no discomfort. He slept soundly through the night until dawn.
Completely relaxed and free from the affairs of state, Feng Feibai felt little desire to rise. He stared at the willow leaves and bamboo patterns on the bed canopy, lost in thought, when he noticed the once-steady breathing beside him had slightly faltered. Turning his head, he saw Shen Chun’s waist tensing slightly. The half-awake person nuzzled his neck out of habit and murmured, “How long have you been awake, Your Majesty?”
The voice was lazy and soft; hearing it so close made Feng Feibai’s heart flutter. Though he had heard it countless times, he could never resist such intimacy, and his tone softened almost unconsciously. “I just woke. Do you want to get up?”
“Rising early has no particular purpose,” Shen Chun said, reaching out to lift the bed curtains and glance outside. “It’s not yet mealtime. Perhaps we should do something interesting instead.”
Mornings were always the most stirring, and even more so with the one he loved lying beside him. Shen Chun leaned in, but Feng Feibai pressed against his chest, struggling to resist. “No indulgence in the daytime,” he said, forcing a semblance of restraint.
As the saying goes, a spring night is short and morning comes quickly, ever since, the emperor rarely attended court early.
He had once thought it was the fault of a weak-willed ruler. But having tasted its sweetness, he realized that with a beloved at one’s side, and intimate closeness upon waking, rising early became truly difficult. If indulgence extended into the daytime, he feared the limits of restraint would slip further and further, and he would hardly be distinguishable from a heedless ruler.
“All right, I won’t fuss with you,” Shen Chun said, kneading his earlobe before rolling over to sit up. “I’ll help Your Majesty get dressed.”
“I’ll do it myself,” Feng Feibai quickly interjected, stopping him.
Any intimacy upon waking was a stumbling block to self-discipline; being an emperor was truly arduous. It was far easier to live as a carefree wealthy couple, no need to rise early, only to do something interesting instead.
Once fully dressed, Shen Chun went to open the door and fetch water, while Feng Feibai pushed open the window, letting in the chirping of birds. The window creaked softly, and the flutter of wings followed. Before he could even look, a branch, still dripping with water, brushed against his face.
Shen Chun returned, setting down the water and gently lifting Feng Feibai’s chin. “No scratches… Feibai, so handsome and unparalleled, even the branches of Jiangnan can’t wait to taste your charm.”
Feng Feibai brushed his face, secretly delighted by the compliment, but quickly shifted the topic. “Did it rain last night?”
“No, Jiangnan is naturally humid; the dew is quite heavy,” Shen Chun said, reaching to prop the window open. A flowering branch had crept inside, resting delicately on the table. With the window bright and clean, the scene was exceptionally beautiful.
“Sir, the toiletries are ready. Shall someone assist you?” a servant asked.
Shen Chun glanced toward the steaming water, it was clearly warm. “No need. Once everything is in place, you may leave.”
The servants nodded and withdrew. After the door was closed, one of them murmured, “The bond between Sir and Young Master Bai is truly close… though that thing about ‘raising the tray and arching the brow’…”
“Raising the tray to eyebrow level3it describes holding a tray so that it reaches the level of one’s eyebrows, which was a gesture of respect and equality in traditional Chinese culture—most often between husband and wife. It symbolizes mutual respect, harmony, and proper conduct in a relationship.,” Liu Zhuqing said.
“Indeed, Zhuqing is learned,” the servant replied. “I never imagined that a man standing in one place could be so enviable.”
“Yes,” Liu Zhuqing agreed.
The prince was unmatched in the world, and the man standing beside him was no less impressive. Even in simple clothing, his noble bearing could not be ignored.
Few at the villa knew the prince’s true identity, and even those who did never spoke of it, always addressing him simply as “Sir.”
But Liu Zhuqing knew, and he also knew of the bond between the prince and His Majesty.
His Majesty’s name was Feng Feibai—Prince Bai. Was he not, in fact, the emperor?
When Liu Zhuqing first heard of it, he had imagined the two long-rivaling men in constant conflict, their interactions sharp and tense. He never expected it would be like this: harmonious as a perfectly tuned lute, even His Majesty’s affections soft and enduring before the prince.
If the prince had both heart and feeling, how many in this world could truly resist him?
Life at the villa was indeed leisurely. Of course, state affairs still needed attention. Often, guards would cross the lake to deliver urgent matters, then leave once the tasks were completed. The island faced the shore across the water; when Feng Feibai first arrived, there had been no guards, but now the lakeside was lined with them.
Otherwise, they rose with the morning and rested at sunset, living almost like an ordinary married couple.
“Prince Bai, here are the books you requested. The tea will be ready shortly; please wait a moment,” Liu Zhuqing said, placing the books on the table.
“Mm, you may go,” Feng Feibai said, picking up a book.
There were quite a few ancient texts here, and even though many were old, they had been carefully preserved; the repairs on some volumes only highlighted the meticulous care of those who tended them.
Feng Feibai opened a book, but his gaze drifted to Liu Zhuqing as he prepared the tea. Clearly accustomed to the task, every movement carried an air of refined elegance.
It was hard to imagine that this man had once been so pitiable. Feng Feibai asked, “Are you from Jiangnan?”
He spoke suddenly. Liu Zhuqing looked up in surprise, then said respectfully, “I am from the capital, my lord.”
“The capital?” Now it was Feng Feibai’s turn to be surprised. “If you are from the capital, why have you come to Jiangnan?”
“My lord,” Liu Zhuqing replied as he lifted the teapot to brew the tea, “I was born into a poor family and could not remain in the capital. The prince took pity on me and sent me here to serve as a book attendant.”
“Since you are from the capital, do you know his identity?” Feng Feibai asked.
“Yes,” Liu Zhuqing lowered his head.
If he had only been rescued by the roadside, there would have been no need to reveal his identity. But having entered the prince’s residence…
“What is your background?” Feng Feibai asked.
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araa On EDEH Chapter 64