Rong Yu—also known as Qi Wang—had previously been exiled to Xiannan for insulting the Emperor and framing loyal officials. By imperial decree, he was permanently banned from ever entering the capital again.
Zhang Ninghan, a member of the Qizhang family, had once been used as a pawn by Qi Wang. When Qi Wang fell from grace, Zhang Ninghan was implicated as well. He was permanently barred from participating in the imperial exams, falling from the heights of privilege straight into the mud. With poor mental resilience, he had now descended into a state of near madness.
Zhang Yu, Zhang Ninghan’s father, was a court official and a renowned calligrapher of his generation.
Zhang Ninghan was his only son, born late in his life.
—This humble official speaks at the risk of his life: the Nanruo nobility has been secretly exchanging letters with Xie Caiqing. The letters have been intercepted by your servant. I have also captured the messenger, who has confessed under interrogation that Xie Caiqing is indeed a spy. The messenger has since taken poison and died out of fear and guilt. I ask that Your Majesty conduct a thorough investigation. The letters are in my possession. I await your summons to present them in person and report the full details.
Xie Caiqing’s hand tightened slightly around the memorial. His face was cold as still water.
If Xiao Yun so much as glanced at this memorial, given his suspicious and ruthless nature, there would be no mercy. In the past, he had always rather kill a thousand by mistake than let one guilty man go free. Now, with Xie Caiqing so close to him—perhaps one second Xiao Yun would be calling him “my heart,” and the next, he would be snapping his neck.
“Why aren’t you reading it? Thinking about me?” Xiao Yun said with a smile.
He didn’t know what had gotten into him lately. Whatever he did, he just wanted to be close to Xie Caiqing. The moment he touched him, all else faded from his mind—he could only think about that. Just holding Xie Caiqing made his entire body feel hot. And whenever Xie Caiqing responded even a little, he would shoot to the sky like a firework.
And Little Xiao Yun went right up there with him.
“Your humble servant, Xia Zhe, sincerely… ah—”
Xiao Yun turned his face slightly. Xie Caiqing’s ears were so red they looked like they were bleeding. He struggled, trying to get off him.
Xiao Yun held him tightly, not letting him move.
“Didn’t Your Majesty say you wouldn’t—”
“I did,” Xiao Yun said matter-of-factly. “I said I wouldn’t do anything to you on the chair. I didn’t say it wouldn’t rise on its own. That’s out of my control.”
“Your Majesty, let this minister down—”
“If you keep rubbing against me, I can’t make any promises,” Xiao Yun said, a vein on his forehead twitching.
Xie Caiqing froze immediately, utterly humiliated. To avoid brushing against little Xiao Yun, he silently spread his legs wider.
Xiao Yun chuckled. This was like hugging ice to keep warm.
With the source of distraction slightly distanced, the top scholar dryly began reading, “This minister Xia Zhe respectfully reports: As we near the end of April, the tributary states are preparing to come to court and offer tribute…”
Two minutes later, Xie Caiqing finished reading. Throughout, Xiao Yun had been twirling Xie Caiqing’s hair with his finger, clearly not paying much attention to the memorial. Distractedly, he said, “Xia Zhe’s handling of this matter has been steady this year. Draft a reply later and say I’ve approved it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Xiao Yun handed him two more memorials. Xie Caiqing slightly relaxed, though his expression remained cold—so cold it mirrored Xiao Yun’s own indifferent cruelty. Yet his voice was still elegant and gentle. Occasionally, when teased by Xiao Yun, he’d huff softly in embarrassment and anger, which gradually changed Xiao Yun’s expression.
Xie Caiqing opened the memorial from the Ministry of Rites and glanced over it. He saw that this year’s list of tributary nations included Nanruo—his brows furrowed instantly.
Nanruo, protected by natural defenses and backed by the Miluo Manor, had never submitted to Great Ning.
His imperial brother had always been stubborn and unyielding—he would never lower his head to another nation for survival, not at the cost of Nanruo’s thousand-year foundation.
Could it be… that his brother was afraid Xie Caiqing’s identity might be exposed, and so made overtures to Xiao Yun in advance? If Caiqing were in danger, would his brother really go as far as bowing to Xiao Yun, making Nanruo a tributary state, just to ensure his safety?
A wave of sourness and swelling emotion surged in Xie Caiqing’s heart.
His brother had clearly said before that he’d rather see him dead than see him entangled with Xiao Yun.
His heart felt both chilled and heated. Xiao Yun’s embrace was warm—his waist was slender, chest solid, arms strong. There was a sense of false security.
But he was in the enemy’s arms.
Xie Caiqing’s expression became impassive.
Most of the recent memorials were related to the tribute ceremonies. After finishing the Ministry of Rites memorial, Xiao Yun casually remarked, “Even Nan Huaiyi is planning to offer tribute this year. The envoy is already more than halfway here. They’ll likely arrive in the capital within ten days.”
Xie Caiqing was shocked.
Why hadn’t he received any information about the envoy’s departure? The Miluo spies should never have missed such a large diplomatic group.
They must have known—but withheld the news, likely to spare him distress.
Xiao Yun’s tone carried a hint of pride. Xie Caiqing felt increasingly uneasy and stayed silent, only to hear Xiao Yun say, “Who’s more handsome, Me or Nan Huaiyi?”
Xie Caiqing’s lips stiffened slightly.
So this was what he was brooding over.
“This minister has never met Nan Huaiyi. How could I compare?”
“You have to compare?” Xiao Yun clearly didn’t like the answer. Hearing no response, he grumbled, “Ungrateful brat. Can’t you see how stunning I am in every way?”
Xie Caiqing tilted his head. Xiao Yun’s side profile was indeed striking—sharp features and bold expression. Maybe he’d just gotten used to it.
But that memorial still laid on the desk.
When he remained silent, Xiao Yun gave a snort-laugh: “Can’t you coax me a little? I’m always the one coaxing you. When has the emperor ever humbled himself like this for someone?”
“…Your Majesty is very handsome.”
“Half-hearted.” Xiao Yun’s face darkened.
“This minister speaks from the heart.”
“You still don’t think I’m more handsome than Nan Huaiyi.”
“This minister has not seen Nan Huaiyi. It would be dishonest to say otherwise. I dare not deceive the Emperor.”
“So you still don’t think I’m more handsome than him!”
“…” The shadow of dread that had been looming in Xie Caiqing’s heart was now slightly dispersed.
Xiao Yun said, “Even if you haven’t seen him, I have. Nan Huaiyi looks like a Buddha statue in a temple. How could he be more handsome than me?”
Xie Caiqing was startled—Xiao Yun had been to Nanruo? That couldn’t be. If the Emperor of Great Ning had visited Nanruo, it would’ve been a huge event. He would’ve known. The historians wouldn’t have ignored it either.
Had he gone in disguise?
He was one step late in realizing what Xiao Yun was implying. His face darkened.
Xiao Yun is the one who looks like a temple statue.
“How has Your Majesty seen him?”
“I stayed in the Miluo Manor for a time years ago. Saw him then. Even in his teens, he looked like a Buddha. By now,” Xiao Yun chuckled, “he’s probably reached enlightenment—able to guide the masses, preach detachment from love and desire, and reach immortality.”
“…” Xie Caiqing gritted his teeth.
“Not talking again? I don’t believe this,” Xiao Yun said, slightly lifting him. “Come on, let me describe him for you, and you tell me your honest opinion.”
As Xiao Yun vividly described his imperial brother, Xie Caiqing’s face—hidden from view—grew darker by the second.
“You have no idea—Jiang Huaiyi’s temper is like a pretty widow’s. He’d probably make his daughters bind their feet. The man’s such a neat freak, if someone touched him, he’d probably chop his own hand off and offer it as compensation. Always dressed in white for court—you’d think he was heading to a funeral instead of a morning assembly.”
Xie Caiqing’s face was pitch-black. He said coolly, “Then what does Your Majesty think of him?”
“Oh,” Xiao Yun grew a little impatient with the topic, “He’s alright. No one can fault his scholarly talents—he’s a rare genius. But his temperament has major flaws. He’s not fit to be an emperor. As a virtuous and upright official, a pillar of the court, he’d be outstanding.”
“But as an emperor, despite seeming strong, he’s actually too sentimental and bound by ethics. He cares too much about others’ opinions, can’t let go, is indecisive, idealistic, sees everything in black and white, stubborn, inflexible—and he dislikes war. Problem is, Nanruo’s military is weak. What they need isn’t a benevolent ruler for peacetime, but a conqueror who can win battles.”
“He’s a truly good man—but he’ll never be a truly great emperor. No matter how diligent he is, he’s just not cut out for the role. If he focused on education and the arts instead, he’d probably have disciples all over the land by now. That’d be a far better path for him.”
Xie Caiqing clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to deny it. Xiao Yun had always spoken sharply and venomously, but this time there was no mockery in his tone at all—he spoke plainly, without the slightest emotion.
Jiang Huaiyi was his royal brother. It was hard to see clearly from within.
He couldn’t bring himself to judge him, nor did he want to.
In Nanruo, no one dared to criticize the emperor. This was the first time he’d heard an outsider—a man from an enemy nation, an emperor above all but beneath none—evaluate his brother objectively.
Xie Caiqing pressed his lips together. “If that’s so, valuing emotion and virtue, then those around him must be truly blessed—at least they needn’t fear a fickle heart.”
“Oh? Are you mocking me now?” Xiao Yun gave a disgruntled chuckle. “You mean staying by my side isn’t happiness? What part of me is unpredictable? I say I like you every day.”
“When His Majesty says he likes this minister, it means ‘I want you in bed,’” Xie Caiqing replied flatly.
Xiao Yun froze for quite a while, then burst out laughing. “So you do know. Then come, come—since I like you, will you accept it? I’ve liked you since the moment I entered, and now I especially like you.”
“Top Scholar? I want to like you right now. Will you accept it?” Xiao Yun leaned in and whispered in his ear, chuckling lowly.
Xie Caiqing turned his face away in angry embarrassment, utterly refusing to respond.
Xiao Yun laughed, amused. After playing around for a bit, he finally said, “You ungrateful little thing. I give you everything—if it were him, would he pamper you this much? If you were his man, your whole life would just be about the bed, and only ever the up and down of it.”
…That was his brother.
Xie Caiqing’s face darkened. “…Your Majesty, please stop.”
Xiao Yun realized he was speaking nonsense. Xie Caiqing belonged to him, after all. He casually added, “But Nanruo isn’t completely lacking in someone fit to be emperor.”
Xie Caiqing was startled. “Who?”
“His younger brother.”
Clack—the memorial in Xie Caiqing’s hand dropped again.
Xiao Yun chuckled. “What, your legs were too weak to stand before, and now your hands are too weak to hold?”
Xie Caiqing pushed against him, trying to get down.
“Don’t be mad, don’t be mad—alright? My mouth was running,” Xiao Yun held him tighter without allowing refusal. “Wasn’t I just chatting with you?”
The scholar of the nation seemed to sulk for a while before finally responding, “His younger brother—does Your Majesty mean Duan Wang?”
“Yes.” Xiao Yun answered happily.
Both Jiang Huaiyi and Duan Wang were famous throughout the realm; no scholar or court official could be unfamiliar with them.
Xie Caiqing said, “But isn’t his younger brother far inferior to Jiang Huaiyi? Leaving aside his youth, he follows his royal brother’s word in all things, never disobeying. I’ve never heard of any great achievements—only that he is talented in literature—”
“Who says being emperor is about age?” Xiao Yun dismissed. “If you’re fit, you’re fit—even in your teens. If you’re not, you won’t be fit even in your eighties. As for achievements, if he has the ability, it’s only a matter of time.”
Xie Caiqing gave no reply.
Xiao Yun laughed. “I’ve got a lot of informants in Nanruo. I know plenty about what Duan Wang’s done in secret. He’s patient and calculating, smooth in handling matters, goal-driven and ruthless when needed. He can scheme, make sharp decisions, and he’s merciful when appropriate, earning the people’s favor. Isn’t that more suitable than his brother?”
Xie Caiqing quietly clenched his hand.
Xiao Yun knew him.
As if remembering something amusing, Xiao Yun grinned: “You really think he’s just a loyal little brother? He’s done tons behind Jiang Huaiyi’s back. A lot of those court officials Jiang Huaiyi couldn’t bear to execute and who just happened to fall ill and die? All taken care of by him. So young, yet so ruthless.”
“…Is that so?” Xie Caiqing feigned surprise. “Then what does Your Majesty think of him?”
Xiao Yun replied lazily, “Not much. He’s no threat to me.”
Xie Caiqing asked, “Why?”
Xiao Yun smiled. “I was curious about him before. Figured that even if he’s still young now, he’d surely become someone impressive. But after looking deeper, I realized—everything he’s learned is just to become a sharp blade in his brother’s hand.”
“Lack of ambition is his greatest flaw.”
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