Wrapped in a fox-fur cloak, the Crown Prince dashed onto the corridor, braving the wind and snow. He scrutinized his personal shidu from head to toe before finally breaking into a smile.
Su Yan noticed the snowflakes that had settled on the crown prince’s brows and lashes, turning them frosty white. He raised a hand to brush them away but stopped upon realizing his fingers were coated with dried medicinal ointment. Instead, he used his sleeve to gently sweep off the snow and shook his head with a chuckle. “Your Highness, your filial devotion is commendable, but you must also take care of yourself.”
Zhu Helin caught a faint whiff of Su Yan’s sleeve—a subtle, herbal fragrance from medicinal soap. Though entirely proper, the scent stirred an inexplicable heat in his chest, flushing his ears bright red. Suppressing the odd sensation deep within, he rasped, “Are you hungry? Come, let’s have a meal together.”
Su Yan, feeling somewhat guilty for not visiting the Eastern Palace in a long time, agreed with a bow of gratitude.
He then turned to Lan Xi and said, “Lan Gonggong, His Majesty is no longer in serious discomfort, but he still needs ample rest and less stress. There are a few medicinal dishes that can help alleviate his neuralgic headaches—such as dandi porridge, yuanzhi jujube soup, and sour jujube lily decoction. Besides hot compresses, he can also steam his head over a basin of boiled white chrysanthemum tea for better results. I will write down the recipes and instructions and have an attendant from the Eastern Palace deliver them later.”
Lan Xi smiled and said, “Censor Su is truly considerate.”
He certainly had the heart, but unfortunately, he refused to offer himself. Meanwhile, His little Highness loved stirring up trouble. Who knew when His Majesty would finally have his wish fulfilled? The top-ranked worrier among imperial eunuchs sighed with regret.
The crown prince was overjoyed. He reached out to take Su Yan’s hand but changed his gesture midway, hooking onto his arm instead. He didn’t summon a sedan chair but quickened his pace toward Duanben Palace.
His steps grew faster and turned into a small run. Su Yan, being pulled along, couldn’t help but protest, “Slow down, Your Highness! Don’t lose the dignity of the heir apparent.” Truthfully, it was because his official robes, with their wide sleeves, caught the wind and made it hard to run without looking undignified.
Zhu Helin laughed as he ran. “Does this remind you of the first time you entered the palace? I pulled you along just like this to see the Western self-ringing clock. In the blink of an eye, it’s almost been a year!”
Su Yan was also feeling nostalgic. He had watched the crown prince grow from a second-year middle schooler into… a third-year one? Well, maybe he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was starting to show the makings of a young man. Su Yan could even imagine his future vigor and presence once he came of age. The thought gave him a sense of accomplishment, like he was helping nurture the nation’s next leader.
Outside the corridor, snowflakes swirled, but under the eaves, the two of them ran like carefree youths in a spring field, their laughter light as they dashed into Duanben Palace, trailed by a string of lantern-bearing attendants.
As soon as they entered, Zhu Helin threw his arms around Su Yan in a tight hug. “I was suffocating! I wanted to hug you the moment we met, but with so many people in Yangxin Hall, I was afraid you’d think I was being immature. Now that we’re behind closed doors in my own territory, I can finally do it.”
Su Yan struggled a little but couldn’t break free. The crown prince had trained in wrestling since childhood and had strength to spare—enough to overpower a scholarly youth like him. Gasping for breath, Su Yan complained, “Let go! You’re strangling me!”
Zhu Helin loosened his grip slightly and nuzzled his chin against Su Yan’s neck, rubbing against him like a contented cat.
Only after his excitement had fully dissipated did he finally release him. He then measured their heights against each other. “I’m almost as tall as you now.”
“Still a little short,” Su Yan compared carefully and said smugly, “I’m only seventeen—I’ve got years left to grow.”
“So do I! Lately, my legs ache every night when I sleep. The imperial physician says it’s growing pains. Someday, I’ll be taller than Royal Father. Believe it or not?”
Su Yan smiled and nodded. His stomach, however, growled loudly. Zhu Helin immediately ordered the food to be served.
The Eastern Palace had its own private kitchen, and the meal had long been prepared, just waiting for the crown prince’s return. At his command, steaming hot dishes were promptly brought in, filling the table.
Su Yan’s hands were coated in medicinal ointment, which he couldn’t wash off for six hours, making it difficult to use chopsticks or spoons. A palace maid stepped forward to assist, but he felt too embarrassed to let a young girl feed him. He repeatedly declined and tried to prove he could manage on his own—only to fumble and drop his chopsticks on the floor within moments.
Zhu Helin laughed so hard he nearly fell over. He waved the maids away. “You all leave. He’s too embarrassed.”
Once the palace attendants had exited, Zhu Helin scooted closer and started feeding Su Yan himself.
Su Yan blushed furiously and firmly refused, but the crown prince teasingly insisted on shoving food into his mouth. They laughed and played around as they ate, finishing their meal before washing up and drinking herbal tea for digestion.
The first Western chess set in the Great Ming was placed on the kang table. Zhu Helin, already familiar with it, sat cross-legged on the daybed and patted the seat beside him, signaling Su Yan to join.
As they played, their conversation drifted casually.
The crown prince bragged about all he had learned over the past six months, while Su Yan shared amusing anecdotes from his time in Shaanxi—especially the mishaps of officials at the Qingshui camp Horse Race. Zhu Helin laughed so hard he nearly lost his head.
“Serves them right!” he commented before suddenly asking, “I heard that when you were nearing the capital, you spent a night at Relong Valley in Great Xing County. You went to soak in the hot springs?”
Su Yan was startled. His hand, poised to make a move, faltered for a second. Then he calmly placed his black elephant down and looked up. “Where did Your Highness hear such gossip?”
Zhu Helin advanced his white cannon, aiming to blast the black elephant, and said casually, “It’s not gossip. There’s a dark-skinned fellow among the imperial guards who’s quite trusted by Royal Father. He accompanied you to Shaanxi. His name is… what was it again?”
“Chu Yuan.”
“Yes, him! He reported to Royal Father just today, right after morning court, in the imperial study.”
Su Yan rubbed the chess piece between his fingers. “Didn’t His Majesty have a headache after court? He still summoned Chu Yuan?”
“Actually, Royal Father was fine right after court. I was there—Shanxi’s commander reporting about the Oirats’ duplicity did make him angry, but not to the point of an outburst. Royal Father’s always been composed. In fact, I was probably angrier than he was.”
A bad feeling crept into Su Yan’s heart. “So it was after meeting with Chu Yuan that His Majesty’s headache acted up?”
“I think so.” Zhu Helin took a sip of his tea and, instead of urging Su Yan to play, stared at the black elephant in his hand. “After court, I followed Royal Father to the imperial study, and just as Chu Yuan came in, Royal Father found an excuse to send me away. But I’m not so easy to dismiss, so I stayed outside and eavesdropped for a bit.”
“What did Your Highness hear?” Su Yan asked, holding his breath.
Zhu Helin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he asked, “Have you decided your next move?”
Su Yan gave a perfunctory “oh,” not in the mood for strategy, and made a random move.
Zhu Helin tightened his grip on his cannon piece and remarked, as if offhandedly, “Chu Yuan first praised your work in Shaanxi to the skies, then said you were…”
“…lacking in personal virtue?” Su Yan’s face darkened.
Zhu Helin laughed. “Not at all. He said your character and conduct were beyond reproach. However…”
Su Yan stretched his long legs off the bed. “I’m done playing. We haven’t seen each other in half a year, and now you’re being all cryptic with me. If that’s the case, I won’t waste your time. I’ll leave before the palace gates close.”
Zhu Helin had gone too far and hadn’t meant to truly anger him. He quickly grabbed Su Yan’s hand and pleaded, “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you everything! Honestly, you say you have a good temper, but look at you now.”
“Am I ill-tempered?”
“You’re good—just not to me! Look how well you treat the Emperor, like a docile little kitten. But when it comes to me, you just give me the cold shoulder? The Emperor is your ruler, and I’m not, is that it?”
Su Yan chuckled. “You are. The heir apparent. I respect and admire you deeply.”
“Bullsh*t! You still think I’m a child.” Zhu Helin pressed Su Yan’s hand back onto the heated table. “Keep going! I’m not done.”
Su Yan poured him a cup of tea as a gesture of goodwill.
Zhu Helin continued, “Chu Yuan said you took in a martial arts expert from the jianghu as your personal guard, and your relationship seems… ambiguous.”
“He also said that when you were soaking in the hot springs in Jing County, that guard suddenly barged in and fought fiercely with an unknown man. The man was in disarray, and you had just hurriedly dressed—yet you didn’t even raise the alarm. He suspects your guard started the fight out of jealousy. And in the end, you personally smoothed things over and let the man go.”
“His final conclusion? ‘Lord Su is a man of both virtue and talent, loyal and righteous—only too affectionate by nature, leaving others to pine for him in vain.’”
The crown prince finished his speech in one breath and then glared at Su Yan angrily. “I never took you for a romantic! What exactly is your relationship with that guard? And who was that wild man in the hot springs? Speak!”
Su Yan’s heart pounded, but outwardly, he remained calm. “A guard is a guard. Our relationship is one of protector and protected. I saved his life, and he repays me with his. Do you recall when I was cornered by the Tatar cavalry and fell off a cliff? If not for him risking his life to save me, I would have been nothing but a bloated corpse floating in the canyon rapids.”
Zhu Helin’s expression changed. He grabbed Su Yan’s wrist. “Qinghe…”
When Su Yan had gone missing, Zhu Helin had been beside himself with worry. And when he later learned Su Yan was safe, he had finally breathed a sigh of relief. But he hadn’t known the ordeal had been so perilous—he couldn’t help but feel a lingering fear.
“We’ve been through life and death together. Of course, my regard for him is different from that of an ordinary servant. But as for ‘ambiguous’—”
Su Yan mentally hypnotized himself. That night on the Mid-Autumn Festival doesn’t count. It was an accident. An accident! The victim is innocent!
Aside from that night, he and Jinghong Zhui hadn’t crossed the line… Well, except for that one time. A massage. And a… kiss.
Ugh. That did count as ambiguous, didn’t it?
He wasn’t sure if it was the atmosphere of the moment or his tendency to be soft-hearted toward those he considered “his own,” but somehow, the kiss just happened…
D*mn it. What kind of straight man does this?! This d*mn body is ruining me! Su Yan cursed himself.
He could scheme and manipulate his enemies without hesitation, but he despised lying to those he considered “his own.” So, utterly deflated, he admitted, “If you must know, yes, there was something… We kissed.”
“WHAT?!” Zhu Helin, furious, flipped the chessboard over. “You kissed your bodyguard?! Even I haven’t kissed you!”
Su Yan slammed the black chess piece he was holding onto the table and bellowed even louder, “Bullsh*t! You haven’t kissed me?! You busted my lip! At the inn, you smeared your spit all over my face—did you think I didn’t mind? What did I say back then? Did I call you out for molesting your own subject? Or did you conveniently excuse yourself as ‘just playing around like a kid’ when it suited you, only to turn into a ‘man’ when showing off your authority?!”
Zhu Helin’s face turned red. He stammered, “You—you—you… How dare you insult the crown prince! Are you rebelling?!”
He furiously flipped the heated table as well and lunged at Su Yan, grabbing him by the throat.
The loud crashing sounds startled the palace attendants outside. Cheng Sheng called through the door, “Young Master! What’s going on? Shall we come in to serve you?”
“DON’T COME IN!” Zhu Helin bellowed, “I’m disciplining a traitor! No one is allowed in, or I’ll have your heads!”
The attendants outside exchanged glances.
Cheng Sheng muttered to himself, “A traitor? But there’s only Young Master and Lord Su inside…”
Fu Bao, who knew that the crown prince was fond of Su Yan, was still too young and naive to grasp the different shades of “fondness.” So he reasoned, “Young Master is probably just playing around with Lord Su. It’s fine. Since he won’t let us in, we shouldn’t go in. Besides, who else but Lord Su could handle his fiery temper?”
The other attendants all nodded in agreement and pretended not to hear a thing.
Inside the hall, on the luohan couch, Su Yan was being strangled to the point where his eyes rolled back. Enraged, he swung his arm and slapped the crown prince hard across the face.
The slap seemed to snap Zhu Helin out of his frenzy.
He touched his own face in shock. “You! You dare hit me? Even my Royal Father has never struck my face—at most, he used a ruler to rap my palms a few times…”
Su Yan coughed violently, gasping for air, and then, throwing all caution to the wind, he said, “You were choking me, and I can’t even defend myself? A ruler can command a subject’s death, but if that subject refuses to die—what, should they just sit and wait? Even an ant struggles to survive. What makes you think I wouldn’t fight back? If you really want me dead, why not just take a sword and behead me? I’m no match for you!”
Zhu Helin froze for a long moment. Then, suddenly, his eyes reddened. “You… you heartless b*stard! After everything I’ve done for you, do you really not care? Is this how you repay me?”
Su Yan, having caught his breath, looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve already decided to dedicate my life to serving your imperial family. What more do you want?”
Zhu Helin gritted his teeth. “What nonsense! You’re a minister of Great Ming! Serving your sovereign is your duty! You act like it’s some grand sacrifice—what, am I supposed to feel sorry for you?!”
Su Yan laughed. “Of course it’s a sacrifice. If I weren’t a subject of Great Ming, I could have sailed across the seas, discovered new trade routes, explored lands that no one in this era has ever set foot on. North, south, east, west—this world is far larger and more fascinating than you can imagine. And if all else failed, if I were truly backed into a corner, I could abandon this body altogether, let my soul be reborn in another time and place—or simply vanish into nothingness. After all, my life is mine to do with as I please. Who are you to decide for me?”
Zhu Helin’s anger was first met with shock. Then, a chill crept into his heart.
He sensed with his innate sharp intuition that Su Yan was speaking from the heart.
Hidden within this seemingly delicate and obedient scholar’s body was a soul that was utterly defiant and shockingly unconventional.
It felt as if imperial power could suppress anyone in the world—except him.
How on earth did his mind work? Were ten years of Confucian studies completely wasted on him? The Su family of Fuzhou was at least a well-established literary household, and Su Zhifu was a dignified fourth-rank magistrate. Yet, he had raised a son who didn’t even grasp the basic principle of “The ruler is the guide of the minister”?
Zhu Helin felt both indignant and incredulous, yet at the same time, a chill crept over him.
This chill wasn’t from disappointment or disillusionment—it was a fear of “losing” at any moment. As the Buddhist saying goes, love gives birth to fear. This indistinct, elusive sense of dread floated in his heart, impossible to describe yet undeniably real.
Zhu Helin’s voice changed from panic, gripping Su Yan’s shoulders tightly as he shouted hoarsely, “You are not allowed to leave! And you are not allowed to die! Do you hear me?”
Su Yan shrugged indifferently and wriggled free from his grasp. “As long as no one forces me, I have no reason to leave. I’m living quite comfortably in Great Ming. And as for dying, that would be a last resort. Haven’t I already said it? Even ants struggle to live—why wouldn’t a person?”
Zhu Helin sighed in slight relief before demanding, “And you’re not allowed to become distant from me either.”
Su Yan chuckled and pushed against Zhu Helin’s chest. “Look at the way we are right now. You’re practically pressing me down. If someone were to walk in on us, they wouldn’t just say we were distant—they’d report us for being overly intimate. This is exactly the ‘ambiguity’ you wanted me to admit to. So? Now that you’ve experienced it firsthand, are you satisfied?”
Zhu Helin, arrogant and willful as he was, was still a young boy with a thin skin. Embarrassed by the teasing, he quickly tried to smooth things over.
“So about earlier… when I choked you. Can we let that slide?”
“I don’t hold grudges against children.”
“I’m not a—” Zhu Helin started but then gave up. “Fine, fine. You also slapped me, so we’re even. But I am the ruler and you are my minister. You must apologize to me.”
Su Yan rolled his eyes. Whatever, an apology wasn’t going to cost him anything. “Alright, alright, I apologize to the young master. I was the one who first spoke rudely. It was only right for you to teach me a lesson. In the future, I will be more mindful of your dignity and not contradict you so directly.”
Zhu Helin thought about it and felt the apology lacked sincerity, but since it had at least been long-winded, he decided to act magnanimous and accept it.
Su Yan nudged him. “Get off me. I’ve got a chess piece jabbing into my back.”
Zhu Helin reached under him and pulled out a cannon piece from the board, rolling his eyes mischievously. “This doesn’t count as ambiguous. Why don’t you kiss me like you kissed that shameless bodyguard of yours?”
Su Yan was horrified. “Absolutely not! Minimum sentence of three years, maximum—execution! He’s still a child!”
Zhu Helin didn’t get the joke, but he did understand the rejection. He spat in annoyance—then suddenly pressed down.
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