Early in the morning, Jiang Wu was woken up by the light from Yin Wuzhi’s phone. Still groggy, he watched as Yin Wuzhi got up.
Once Jiang Wu confirmed that Yin Wuzhi had called in sick, he fell back into a deep sleep.
Yin Wuzhi’s credibility was impeccable—excellent grades across all subjects, friendly with teachers. If he said he was sick, no one would question it.
This must be what it feels like to have an empress.
This was how it should have been all along.
Jiang Wu had been waiting for this day for far too long.
He slept through the entire morning. By the time he woke up, the sun was high in the sky, and Yin Wuzhi was still sound asleep next to him.
The reason Yin Wuzhi was sleeping so deeply was that, after coming back, he had spent half the night fuming at Jiang Wu’s sleeping face.
Since Yin Wuzhi hadn’t woken up yet, Jiang Wu felt justified in going back to sleep himself.
With their parents at work, neither of them attending school would go unnoticed—except for the class teacher likely calling home. Jiang Wu wasn’t too worried; his parents would usually turn a blind eye. But if Yin Wuzhi skipped, his family might dig into the matter.
Thinking about this, Jiang Wu casually grabbed his watch and noticed several missed calls. He called back, and sure enough, it was his mom asking why he hadn’t gone to school.
Jiang Wu explained, “Yin Wuzhi didn’t sleep well last night.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was up late researching.”
“And you… never mind. You must’ve seen him taking leave and decided to slack off too, right?”
“Mm.”
Jiang Wu’s mom sighed helplessly. “Fine. Tonight, I’ll make some crawfish and you’re punished to peel and eat ten by yourself.”
Jiang Wu: “.”
He hated eating crawfish. He thought they had a strange taste, and every time his mom tried to make him eat them, she and a few others would peel them for him. But now, being told he’d have to peel them himself? She was clearly angry.
Jiang Wu slumped back down onto the bed in defeat.
Yin Wuzhi was still sound asleep.
Jiang Wu had recognized him as Yin Wuzhi ever since they were kids, not just because of his name but because of the tiny red mole at the corner of his eye—a mark he had spent a lifetime imprinting in his memory.
It was slightly larger than the tip of a needle, bright and striking.
Every time Jiang Wu saw that mole, he couldn’t help but think of the endless years he had endured waiting for this moment.
Watching oceans recede into cliffs, ancient trees grow from below, and the relentless passage of time… What kind of force allowed him to hold on and firmly believe he’d eventually find him again?
Jiang Wu reached out, brushing his fingers against Yin Wuzhi’s long lashes.
His fingertips grazed down his straight nose and rested on his lightly tinted lips.
It was this belief that had given Jiang Wu the patience to wait. He was certain that even if Yin Wuzhi lost his memories, he would still be his Yin Wuzhi, belonging only to Jiang Wu.
And sure enough, Yin Wuzhi had returned to the role of his beloved.
Suddenly, Jiang Wu’s fingertip was bitten. He didn’t pull back; he simply looked at Yin Wuzhi’s fluttering lashes.
Yin Wuzhi opened his eyes, let go of Jiang Wu’s finger, and muttered, “Stop poking me.”
“Hungry.”
“You lie around all day without getting hungry, and now you’re suddenly starving?”
“Mm.”
Jiang Wu was always sparing with words—why say two when one would suffice?
After a moment of silence, Yin Wuzhi said, “It’s a weekday. Our parents aren’t home… Should I ask Aunt Wu to make you something, or…” He hesitated. “Should we go out to eat?”
“Stay home.”
Jiang Wu was a true homebody. If he didn’t have to go out, he wouldn’t. Going out meant washing his face, changing clothes—he couldn’t just lounge in his comfortable pajamas.
Back in the palace during his previous life, he’d often wander around in just his inner robes because they were soft, snug, and lightweight.
Anyone else doing this in a rigidly hierarchical ancient society would’ve been beaten, but as the emperor, Jiang Wu could do as he pleased within his domain.
Yin Wuzhi seemed slightly disappointed.
They had only recently confirmed their relationship, but Jiang Wu’s lazy attitude left Yin Wuzhi feeling a bit hollow.
Yin Wuzhi got up first, went downstairs to have some food prepared, and then came back up. Jiang Wu was still sprawled on the bed.
Their parents didn’t mind their close relationship, so they each kept daily necessities in the other’s room.
Yin Wuzhi went into the bathroom, squeezed toothpaste onto Jiang Wu’s toothbrush, and said, “Change your clothes. We’re going out this afternoon.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Lazy.”
Yin Wuzhi rummaged through his clothes and said, “But I don’t want to stay home. I want to go out and have fun.”
“Let’s do that on the weekend,” Jiang Wu replied as he wandered into the bathroom. “I’m tired.”
Tired all the time, for no apparent reason.
Yin Wuzhi tossed his clothes aside and watched as Jiang Wu started brushing his teeth—two quick brushes, then a pause, then another two brushes, and another pause. Unable to bear it anymore, Yin Wuzhi walked over.
He was naturally impatient. Whenever he saw Jiang Wu doing something inefficiently, he’d end up stepping in to fix it himself.
Taking the toothbrush from Jiang Wu’s hand, he began brushing Jiang Wu’s teeth for him. Jiang Wu obediently opened his mouth and let him. Afterward, Yin Wuzhi handed him a cup of water. Jiang Wu puffed out his cheeks and held the water, but Yin Wuzhi shook his head gently to make him spit it out.
“I’m never waking up with you again,” Yin Wuzhi grumbled.
Despite his complaints, there was always a chair by Yin Wuzhi’s private sink. He didn’t need it for the few minutes it took to brush his teeth—it was obviously there for Jiang Wu.
Once he was done freshening up, Jiang Wu, still in his pajamas, crawled back onto Yin Wuzhi’s bed.
“I had someone make something simple—noodles,” Yin Wuzhi said. “Want some?”
“Mm.” Jiang Wu wasn’t picky; he just disliked trouble.
He could eat on his own now, rolling a few strands of noodles with chopsticks before stuffing them into his mouth. If no one monitored him, he could take an hour to finish a bowl of noodles.
Thankfully, Yin Wuzhi finished eating quickly and took over, feeding him until the bowl was clean.
Before long, Yin Wuzhi’s phone rang. He glanced at it and said, “I asked a classmate to take notes for us today since we took the day off. Once you’re done eating, let’s go over today’s lessons.”
Jiang Wu: “…”
Is this even allowed?
Doesn’t taking a day off mean not having to study?
When Yin Wuzhi called him twice and Jiang Wu didn’t budge, Yin Wuzhi walked over. Jiang Wu tried to retreat, but Yin Wuzhi leaned in and scooped him up.
Caught off guard, Jiang Wu felt himself lifted, his face smacking right into Yin Wuzhi’s chest. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Yin Wuzhi’s heart skipped a beat. He awkwardly turned his head and placed Jiang Wu onto the cushioned chair by the desk.
“You need to keep up your grades,” Yin Wuzhi said. “Otherwise, we’ll end up in different classes after the next exam.”
Jiang Wu hated the school’s system of sorting students by exam scores.
“I’ll simplify the lecture material for you,” Yin Wuzhi added. “You just need to remember the parts I tell you to, alright?”
Sitting cross-legged in the chair, Jiang Wu hesitated before asking, “Yin Wuzhi, do you want to hear about the past?”
“What past?”
“When I was emperor, I hated court sessions. You’d always pay attention, then summarize the key points and explain the simpler ones to me. Just like now.”
“R-Really?” Yin Wuzhi blinked, feeling a faint sense of déjà vu. Soon, though, a complicated emotion surfaced in his heart.
He picked up a pen. “The teacher went over yesterday’s test today. You don’t have to write anything, but you need to remember what I explain.”
“Got it.”
This familiar dynamic made Jiang Wu lean against the chair, watching Yin Wuzhi with his head tilted. His intense gaze made Yin Wuzhi’s cheeks flush slightly. “What are you staring at?”
“You’re good-looking.”
Yin Wuzhi: “…..” Deep breath.
With his “Empress Yin” by his side, Jiang Wu’s life became significantly easier. Although Yin Wuzhi had always taken good care of him, their relationship had grown even closer.
Now, Yin Wuzhi would keep an eye on the teacher whenever Jiang Wu dozed off in class. On sunny days, he’d hold a book up to shield Jiang Wu from the glaring light. He even stocked his backpack with steam eye masks, just in case Jiang Wu needed them.
Jiang Wu didn’t have to pay much attention in class because Yin Wuzhi would highlight the key points for him. Instead of trying to remember every little thing, he only needed to focus on what Yin Wuzhi prepared.
It was exactly as Jiang Wu thought: life was perfect with “Empress Yin” around.
One day, Jiang Wu had an idea. He shared it with his parents.
“What did you say?” Mother Jiang asked.
Father Jiang, who had been slicing an apple, froze in shock. “Say that again.”
“I don’t want to go to school anymore,” Jiang Wu said. “I can study at home.”
Mother Jiang frowned. “School isn’t just about learning. It’s where you make friends…”
“I only need Yin Wuzhi.”
“Jiang Wu,” his father said. “Are you saying you want to drop out of school?”
“I’ll take the exams, but I don’t want to attend classes,” Jiang Wu replied, flopping onto the sofa like a puddle of melted goo. “I’ll get into the same university as Yin Wuzhi. I just won’t go to class—that should be fine, right?”
Predictably, Jiang Wu’s fantastical idea was vetoed outright by both his parents.
He brought it up several more times, only to be firmly rejected each time. Finally, he realized that rebelling required too much energy. Reluctantly, he returned to his routine of trudging to school every day.
Somehow, this story reached Yin Wuzhi’s ears. He immediately sought out Jiang Wu to confront him. “You don’t want to attend class anymore?”
“Mm.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t feel like moving.”
Yin Wuzhi sat down on Jiang Wu’s bed, visibly annoyed. “Jiang Wu, what exactly are you trying to say?”
Jiang Wu: “?”
“What am I to you?”
Jiang Wu stared blankly for a moment before responding, “Empress.”
Yin Wuzhi’s face darkened. “Say that again.”
Realizing his mistake, Jiang Wu quickly corrected himself. “Boyfriend.”
Yin Wuzhi pressed his lips together and, after a moment, asked, “Are we really… dating?”
Jiang Wu had told him about his past lives, but it felt like nothing between them had truly started. Everything was the same as before. Jiang Wu still called him by his full name, Yin Wuzhi, and the most intimate thing they’d done was sleep in the same bed. And that was just sleeping.
Sometimes, Jiang Wu would unconsciously call him “Empress.”
At first, Yin Wuzhi found it amusing. But over time, he realized that Jiang Wu seemed merely accustomed to being with him. While they had just started dating, Jiang Wu was already treating him like an old married couple.
This gap in perception left Yin Wuzhi feeling frustrated.
Jiang Wu seemed to pick up on it.
“We… are,” Jiang Wu said.
“Are we?” Yin Wuzhi asked. “Have you ever felt your heart race because of me? Have you ever felt a moment of excitement for me? You’ve barely even said you like me. You always talk about how the Empress was the person you liked the most, treating me as if I’m him. But you completely ignore how I feel. Jiang Wu, do you like me, or the person from your memories? Do you even know the difference?”
Jiang Wu sat up straight instinctively.
He said honestly, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
“And now you don’t even want to go to class. Is it because you’re already used to me, so whether you see me or not doesn’t matter? But to me, this is our first time. This is my first love. You’re the first person I’ve ever liked, and there are so many things I want to do with you…” Yin Wuzhi’s voice softened. “Jiang Wu, if you don’t start taking me seriously, I’ll…”
Jiang Wu looked at him.
“…I’ll cut my hair, so you’ll never be able to twirl it again.”
Yin Wuzhi’s hair had grown past his ears, long enough to tie into a small ponytail. Despite its length, he still looked clean and sharp, not feminine at all—a picture-perfect young man.
Jiang Wu panicked. He quickly said, “Then tell me what you want me to do.”
Jiang Wu was… pouting at him.
Yin Wuzhi’s heart skipped a beat, but his face darkened again.
It was the first time he had seen Jiang Wu pout at him. Yet the other him must have seen it countless times.
“You need to take our relationship seriously,” Yin Wuzhi said, “and act like you’re in love with me for the first time. Don’t call me ‘Empress’ anymore.”
Jiang Wu: “Okay.”
“And,” Yin Wuzhi continued, growing angrier as he spoke, “are we actually dating or not?”
Jiang Wu replied, “We are.”
“Did you confess to me?”
“.” Apparently, he hadn’t. They had simply talked things through and naturally ended up together. But Yin Wuzhi clearly wasn’t satisfied. He didn’t seem to believe they were truly in a relationship.
“I like you,” Jiang Wu said.
Yin Wuzhi frowned at him. “That wasn’t surprising at all. Your expression is so blank. Is that how someone acts when they like someone?”
“.” This Empress was pushing his luck.
“Then,” Jiang Wu asked, “what do you want?”
“I want a surprise,” Yin Wuzhi said, biting his lip. “I want sincerity. I want it to be natural, not random or half-hearted. Be serious about it.”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Why was falling in love so complicated?
So difficult.
