Over the next few days, Xiao Yun finally quieted down.
Perhaps realizing how troublesome his ministers could be, he stopped sneaking out in disguise. Had he continued, they might have stripped even his underwear for scrutiny. Aware of his “mistakes,” he stayed in the palace, and even changed his usual lazy style—previously, he avoided work if he could, regardless of how serious the matter. But now he began working diligently, “pouring his heart and soul” into affairs of state, staying busy late into the night.
Xie Caiqing, as the emperor’s favored minister and close companion, was forced to stay in the palace every night to assist with tasks like organizing memorials, transcribing documents, reading out petitions, and drafting imperial edicts.
The court officials were quite gratified for a time, all greeting each other with beaming smiles, saying it was a blessing for Great Ning. Many officials even submitted memorials to praise the emperor’s virtues, or sent warm regards, repeatedly advising His Majesty not to overwork himself.
Only Liu Yun, who had always tirelessly urged the emperor to be diligent and studious, began to look more sullen by the day. When others asked curiously, he would wave them off with a dark expression, no longer the blunt man he used to be, now becoming tight-lipped and reserved.
Some perceptive courtiers vividly described Liu Yun’s state as: three parts the shy reserve of a maiden not yet married, four parts the hesitation and fear of a wife identifying a corpse after her husband’s disappearance, two parts the shock and anger of a wife discovering her spouse in a compromising situation, and one part the suppressed frustration and forbearance of a wronged husband who can’t speak up.
The officials were a bit baffled.
Meanwhile, the two people at the heart of it all were completely unaware of Liu Yun’s tormented self-deception — “As long as I don’t look into it and find new clues, it surely hasn’t happened.”
Nor could they understand Liu Yun’s pain as he tried to deceive himself, only to be repeatedly confronted with increasingly suspicious signs due to the blatant behavior of those involved — this thing perhaps, maybe, probably had happened, just a little bit.
The two parties in question were enjoying several blissful days.
One day, in the emperor’s bedchamber—
Xiao Yun had gone to the imperial study after court to discuss tribute matters with his ministers. The top scholar, just like the past few days, remained behind to tidy up the emperor’s bookshelves and desk.
Ever since the scholar started staying in the palace overnight, what used to be the eunuchs’ duties—especially those of Yin Xian—had all fallen on the top scholar instead.
The emperor preferred to handle matters that allowed him to showcase his intelligence, particularly problems only he could solve. He once said, “If someone else can do it, why should I?” So for trivial or nonthreatening matters, he never hesitated to delegate.
Thus, the relatively simple task of organizing naturally fell to the most meticulous and orderly person—Top Scholar Xie.
Yin Xian entered with a tray of tea and saw him diligently working again, barely taking a break since morning. He thought, Even the empress isn’t this virtuous, and joked, “If you’re tired, take a rest. We can handle this.”
Xie Caiqing smiled gently, “I’m not tired.”
“How could you not be?” Yin Xian asked, surprised.
Xie Caiqing replied a bit embarrassed, “I actually find it relaxing to turn chaos into order. It’s… hard to describe.”
Yin Xian thought to himself, The top scholar probably would not find a more chaotic man than the emperor. He glanced at the pile of documents sprawled like tangled noodles on the desk and the meticulously ordered bookshelf beside it, feeling somewhat conflicted.
Could it really be a match made in heaven? No wonder the emperor’s been in such a good mood lately.
Xie Caiqing was organizing the memorials on the desk when Xiao Yun came hurrying back. He was about to call out from the door, but paused when he saw Xie Caiqing quietly working. Leaning lazily against the doorway, he watched without blinking and sighed inwardly.
Even if he picked an empress from a thousand choices, she still wouldn’t be this virtuous, beautiful, pure in character, and brilliant.
If Xie Caiqing were a woman, none of this would be a problem.
He’d make him empress gladly—willingly, immediately.
Because even if the passion faded, he could never grow tired or resentful of Xie Caiqing. Even just being together in silence was comfortable. If he were a woman, they could respect and cherish each other in harmony—no doubt about it.
Besides, other people might seem novel at first, only to become boring and irritating once their masks dropped. But Xie Caiqing was different.
Even after having him countless times, Xiao Yun still felt like he was peering at a misty mountain through fog—vague and profound, mysterious and unknowable.
Even when their closeness was at its peak, when Xie Caiqing broke down in tears and curled up in his arms, that veil of mystery still seemed to linger.
Xiao Yun shifted positions, crossing his arms and watching, a trace of irritation creeping in.
Now that his physical desires were frequently satisfied, his mind had begun taking the lead—but he couldn’t fully analyze the situation.
Just playing around? It didn’t seem like that.
Love? Impossible. He would never love anyone in this lifetime.
Like?
That word had no future—unclear, ambiguous.
He didn’t know why he wanted more, even though there didn’t seem to be any “more” to want.
Xie Caiqing no longer rejected him—perhaps even cared a little. He never said it, but there was a hint of habit and reliance.
Xiao Yun sighed and stared at him, frowning slightly.
There was a faint aura around Xie Caiqing—especially visible when he was vulnerable, resting, or alone. It appeared fleetingly but left Xiao Yun with a sense of unease.
Just like now.
Xie Caiqing was flipping through memorials, seemingly preparing to read them aloud for him later. But the ease and confidence in his manner wasn’t what a provincial scholar ought to show. Instead of reverent humility, there was a quiet familiarity—as if it were all routine, mundane… even superior.
A subtle, almost illusory feeling.
Xiao Yun’s brow furrowed. His heart began pounding, and his eyes darkened.
It felt like a predator sensing another predator—like a wolf spotting a white-fox intruder, an instinctive hostility born of nature.
He snapped out of it.
It’s clearly just a harmless little bunny.
He’d already tested that thoroughly.
Xiao Yun smirked to himself. How suspicious I’ve become.
If he really had ulterior motives, wouldn’t he have made a move long ago? What spy sends himself to be pampered? And if he was so dangerous, why didn’t he “present himself” back when I summoned him three years ago?
The truth was, I chased him. He never wanted me at first.
Xiao Yun cast the thought aside. Things between them might still be unclear now, but he was emperor. No matter what happened, as long as he wanted it, Xie Caiqing couldn’t leave.
Feeling much better, he smiled and stepped inside.
Xie Caiqing skimmed the memorials at lightning speed, his gaze calm and focused.
He finished one and casually picked up the next. The moment his eyes swept over it, his heart skipped a beat, and his fingers involuntarily loosened.
With a soft plop, the memorial fell to the ground.
Xiao Yun glanced over casually and chuckled, “What is it? So happy to see me?”
Xie Caiqing’s whole body tensed. He stared at the dropped memorial, but in the blink of an eye, his expression and posture returned to normal. Without a word, he bent down and picked it up. “Your Majesty.”
Xiao Yun grinned, “Go ahead and read it, darling.”
That, of course, meant: read the memorial aloud.
Xie Caiqing’s grip on the document tightened. He opened the memorial with feigned calm and was just about to begin reading when Xiao Yun suddenly bent down and, without warning, scooped him up from behind.
Xie Caiqing quickly shut the memorial, his heart leaping to his throat.
“Your Majesty, weren’t we going to read memorials?” Xie Caiqing struggled in embarrassment and frustration.
“We are reading,” Xiao Yun said seriously. “Sitting on my lap doesn’t interfere.”
Xie Caiqing’s heart jumped again.
Xiao Yun liked hugging him from behind—which meant he could see what was written in the memorial.
“I’d rather not—”
“Not read the memorials?” Xiao Yun teased. “That’s fine. Just sit on my lap. I’ll read them myself.”
“Your Majesty!”
The person in his arms flushed crimson. Xiao Yun caught his struggling hands and held them down. Xie Caiqing seemed to realize resistance was futile and, after a moment, softly said, “Can you… hug me from the front instead?”
Xiao Yun froze.
Was he… making a request about positions now?
Wait, that’s not what he meant.
Then… how else was he supposed to hug him? From the front? Wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?
“Why?” Xiao Yun asked, nuzzling the reddened ear near him.
Xie Caiqing didn’t answer, just blushed harder and whispered pleadingly, “Please?”
Xiao Yun was baffled. What difference did it make?
He thought for a moment—then it hit him like a lightning bolt.
Being hugged from behind meant legs together; from the front, it meant closer contact—and legs apart.
His little sweetheart was shy.
Xiao Yun grinned and smacked his lips. Front-hugging? Fine by him.
Besides, anything Xie Caiqing tried to refuse, he just had to try.
He happily nuzzled the soft ear again and lazily said, “I was going to hug you from the front at first, but you insisted I do it from behind…”
Xie Caiqing stiffened and protested in mortified fury, “I did not—!”
“What didn’t you do?” Xiao Yun moved closer.
Xie Caiqing turned his head away, whispering, “Don’t… don’t do this here. What if the eunuchs come in and see…”
“Oh?” Xiao Yun said, “You’re saying I shouldn’t fool around? I mean, I’m a reasonable man. I care for you. So if you’ll be reasonable too, let me hug you from the front—just once, I’ve never done it that way—if you promise, then I’ll—”
“I promise!”
Before he even finished the sentence, the silly little rabbit blurted it out.
Xiao Yun smirked in triumph, pleased as could be. A second later, he put on a dignified face, pretending to sigh in regret, “Alright then.”
And just like that, he successfully pulled Xie Caiqing onto his lap—facing forward.
Given both of them were tall and lanky, the Taishi chair wasn’t big to begin with, so they looked quite cramped. But Xiao Yun was more than content, even giving Xie Caiqing a jostle to make him sit closer.
Xie Caiqing wasn’t just long-legged—he was flexible too. Even with his knees bumping the edges of the chair, he didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable. His chest pressed firmly against Xiao Yun’s, and his head rested against the crook of his neck.
Xiao Yun held him tightly, breathing in the faint scent of incense from his hair. He inexplicably began stroking his hair, and the more he did, the more he enjoyed it. Eventually, he tousled it into a fluffy mess. Xie Caiqing’s hair stuck up a bit, making him look less refined and more… adorable.
It seemed he never tired of messing Xie Caiqing up.
Knowing that Xie Caiqing must be wearing an angry-but-too-scared-to-scold expression, Xiao Yun laughed to himself. At least he remembered they were still in his bedchamber and he was, technically, still the Emperor. So he said with imperial authority, “Read.”
Xie Caiqing, his arms still around Xiao Yun’s neck, opened the memorial behind his back, where Xiao Yun couldn’t see, and coldly read the words written there:
Your servant Zhang Yu, father of the criminal Zhang Ninghan, humbly reports alongside exiled noble Rong Yu of Xiannan: the top scholar Xie Caiqing is a spy from Nanruo.
