That night, the door to Yu Wang’s sleeping quarters was shattered.
A servant of the Su Residence received a handwritten note from his master: “Not coming home tonight, don’t wait at the door.”
A personal guard, sleepless through the night, crushed into powder a note left behind by a certain visitor—one that reeked of marinated chicken feet.
In the main room of the Shen Residence’s central courtyard, the lights flickered on and off repeatedly. No one emerged for two full days and nights. Meals were left at the door, and even through the cracks of the window lattice, one could smell the scent of wine.
One year and ten-month-old little Ah Wu, under the gentle care of a maidservant, ate well, played happily, and didn’t seem to notice that his dear Father had abandoned him for two days.
On the morning of the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month, Su Yan opened the door and immediately stubbed his toe on the threshold, nearly falling flat. Fortunately, Shen Qi was quick and caught him.
Su Yan grumbled, “This is all your fault. Now I’ve overdone it and feel even weaker.”
Shen Qi chuckled and nuzzled the back of his head. “It’s fine, we’ll slowly make up for it.”
“Let go! Let go! People are walking back and forth—are you crazy?”
“Anyone who stays in my residence knows how to keep their mouths shut. Not a word of this will get out.”
Censor Su was a man who cared deeply about reputation—sometimes more than his own dignity. Hearing that, he relaxed a little. He shoved Shen Qi away and walked out slowly.
Shen Qi tried to cling to him again. “It’s just two more days until New Year’s Eve. Why not stay and spend the holiday here? You can go back to the maternal home on the second day.”
Su Yan deliberately put on a stern face, but his brows and eyes were still full of post-satisfaction, like drifting willow fluff in early spring. He scolded, “What nonsense about going back to the maternal home? Of course I’m going back! Who spends the new year at a brother’s place?”
As soon as he was out of bed, he got mouthy again, which made Shen Qi grind his teeth in frustration. He wanted to tie him up with silk ribbons and keep him in bed forever.
This dark thought flickered and passed, replaced by Gao Shuo’s words echoing in his head.
When Gao Shuo came to report on the past six months in Shaanxi, he had said, “Drink together, sleep together… So really, what’s the difference between a ‘brother’ and a ‘wife’? If Lord Su wants to keep this fig leaf, let him.”
Shen Qi took a deep breath and felt a little better, so he didn’t insist anymore and started planning other things.
Su Yan muttered, “Only two days left, and I haven’t even finished buying New Year’s gifts. I need to get home and sort the list… Wait, I need to send Ah Wu back first. There’s no one at home to look after him.”
“Whose child is it really? Let me take him back,” Shen Qi offered.
Su Yan shook his head repeatedly. Then, in a sudden flash of inspiration, he thought of the perfect person. He slapped his thigh. “How could I forget about Teacher Yingxu?”
There were several bite marks on his thigh, and the slap hurt. In a huff, he kicked Shen Qi’s calf, scooped up Ah Wu, and headed out. Shen Qi ordered a carriage to be prepared and tried to escort them personally, but Su Yan refused.
On his way through the marketplace, Su Yan bought many New Year goods and carried them all to Chen Shiyu’s medical clinic.
Chen Shiyu, ever the benevolent physician, was still receiving patients even as New Year approached. Seeing Su Yan enter, he was momentarily surprised before rising to greet him. “Lord Su has returned safely from Shaanxi? I hope the journey was smooth.”
Su Yan smiled and placed the goods on the table. “Got back a few days ago. Don’t worry, I’m not here as a patient. I’m looking for Teacher Yingxu.”
Chen Shiyu stroked his beard and smiled. “Lord Su is too kind. I don’t deserve such generosity. I’ll make sure to return the New Year gifts to your residence later.”
As he spoke, he glanced at the child in Su Yan’s arms and suddenly recognized him. “Isn’t this the young shizi of Yu Wang?”
Su Yan took the opportunity to place Ah Wu on a bench and let him play. He cupped his hands to Chen Shiyu and said, “I’ll have to trouble Teacher Yingxu to send the child back.”
“Isn’t Lord Su an old acquaintance of His Highness, Yu Wang? What’s the meaning of this, then?”
Su Yan gave an awkward laugh. “Yes, we have a past, but… there were some disagreements too. It’s not a good time to meet right now. I hope Teacher Yingxu doesn’t mind the trouble and can help me make a trip to Yu Wang’s residence.”
Chen Shiyu agreed and even said he’d be willing to use his old face to help ease things over with Yu Wang.
Su Yan waved it off repeatedly. “That’s not necessary. Just returning the shizi back to the Wangye is enough.”
Chen Shiyu, being true to his word, closed his clinic immediately and brought little Ah Wu to Yu Wang’s residence. After reporting their arrival, they were let in.
As soon as the wet nurses heard the shizi had returned, they rushed forward to scoop Ah Wu up, showering him with kisses and tears, lamenting how the poor child had surely suffered outside. Someone even muttered, “What kind of Father does that!”
Changshi Cui Ti hurried out to greet them, cupping his hands. “Teacher Yingxu, you’ve truly arrived like timely rain! I was just about to send someone to invite you.”
Chen Shiyu was taken aback. “What’s happened, Steward Cui? Has something happened to your Wangye?”
Cui Ti replied, “His Highness has been unwell these past few days—troubled sleep, constant nightmares, his temper’s grown more volatile. The palace physicians prescribed calming and cooling medicine, but nothing has worked. We were hoping Teacher Yingxu could take a look.”
Chen Shiyu hesitated. “I’m a doctor, not someone who treats things internally. I’m afraid I might not be the right doctor for this… But let me at least see what’s going on. If I can’t help, I’ll find someone who can.”
Cui Ti was overjoyed and led him to the rear hall.
Yu Wang sat by a round table, cradling his head, elbows propped on the edge, motionless. Only after being announced did he lift his head. Exhaustion clouded his gaze as he looked at Chen Shiyu. “Yu Weng has come.”
“Fourth Highness.” Chen Shiyu approached and took a seat on a nearby stool, observing his complexion. He saw that tYu Wang’s spirit was drained—no glow between his brows, dark circles under his eyes, bloodshot whites filled with unrest. It was a textbook case of heart-fire-induced insomnia. He checked the pulse: chaotic and agitated.
“Where does Your Highness feel unwell?”
“…Tightness in the chest, nausea, dizziness, ringing in the ears… Irritability I can’t shake, like there’s a fire inside me that’s about to explode. At times I can’t tell dream from reality—like Zhuang Zhou dreaming he was a butterfly.”
“Changshi Cui mentioned constant nightmares. What do you dream of?”
“You mean Yu Weng doesn’t know?” Yu Wang’s eyes gleamed like a trapped beast, flashes of manic sharpness beneath layers of restraint. “Unchanging heart, unshaken will—riding the wind as a tiger, soaring the clouds as a dragon… Weren’t these your very words encouraging me once?”
Chen Shiyu drew a sharp breath, as though he’d just identified the crux of the illness.
If Yu Wang’s appearance was a muddy swamp, then within him raged a deep, heavy current. And now that river had become turbid, swollen with floodwaters about to burst its banks and drown all reason.
Such an overflow couldn’t happen without relentless rain.
But even after examining him thoroughly, Chen Shiyu still couldn’t pinpoint the exact trigger behind this abnormal state.
He frowned, stroking his beard in thought for a long while before finally saying, “I’ll first use acupuncture to lower the internal fire, then prescribe something to help with sleep. But these are only temporary solutions. If it’s not something within, Your Highness—might there have been something external? A sound, a vision, or something upsetting?”
“The flute…” Yu Wang clutched at his chest, trying to contain the surging unease. He shut his eyes. “It feels like a dream, and yet also like reality. Sometimes it’s right by my ear, sometimes distant as if from the ends of the sky. But once I awaken and listen, it’s gone without a trace.”
“Auditory hallucinations? What kind of flute sound?”
“A strange, sharp vibrato that makes the soul tremble with it.”
Chen Shiyu nodded. “I’ll go back and think this over, consult the medical texts to see if there’s anything similar. For now, I’ll begin the acupuncture. Oh—and perhaps Your Highness should spend a few days in a different residence. A change of environment might help with your state of mind.”
—
Back at home from the clinic, Su Yan got straight to work drafting a shopping list and instructed Xiaobei and Xiaojing to buy New Year’s gifts to give out.
He also wrote a letter to his parents far away in Fuzhou, telling them he’d be spending the New Year in the capital, and might need to go back to Shaanxi again in a few months. They shouldn’t worry—he was doing fine.
The old servants who brought the letter had stayed at an inn for nearly a month, and now they would take this reply, along with gifts and goods for the New Year, back to Fuzhou.
Everything was fine—except one thing. In the letter from his mother Madam Lin, she mentioned he was already seventeen and at the age to settle down and build a career. She asked if he had anyone in mind; if not, the family could arrange a match for him.
Su Yan replied firmly that a real man must first achieve merit and success, and not be distracted by women. He wouldn’t consider marriage until at least age twenty.
He had no interest in an arranged marriage and planned to stall for a few more years.
Besides, with all the issues at court and in the field—the northern deserts sharpening their blades, the Wei clan scheming, assassins eying the crown prince—who had time to think about wives and kids?
Also… what would happen if Shen Qi, Ah Zhui, or even the Crown Prince heard he was getting married?
He couldn’t help imagining—
Ah Zhui, hurt: Is the lord appointing a madam now? Is it because I didn’t serve him well enough?
The Crown Prince, angry: Great! You barely visit the Eastern Palace as it is—once you have a wife, you’ll be lost in her embrace every day and forget all about me!
Shen Qi, coldly: So your “wife” still turns you on, huh? Seems I haven’t trained you hard enough yet…
Stop. What nonsense is this?
Su Yan shook his head to chase away the chaotic thoughts and exhaled guiltily. Maybe one of these days, he needed to visit Rouge Alley and get a clearer idea of his current… orientation. Was he straight? Bent? Or like a rubber rod—forced to bend under pressure, but once the pressure was gone, he’d spring back straight?
After sending the old servants off, Su Yan walked through the corridor with his head down, still stewing over his confusing sexual identity… and walked right into Jinghong Zhui.
He looked up and saw his bodyguard’s scowling face.
“You’ve been away from home for two whole days. Where did you go?” The bodyguard dared to question his superior. His tone was calm, but his face was ice-cold.
Su Yan gave a dry cough, stepped back to steady himself, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and assumed the posture of a proper master: “Does a lord need to report his whereabouts to his subordinate?”
Jinghong Zhui stepped closer. “Everyone at home was deeply worried. Does my lord care nothing for the household, nor for his own safety? The streets of the capital are full of danger and deceit. What if someone meant you harm?”
“I went… to visit a friend. I wasn’t wandering the streets.”
“People’s hearts are unpredictable. What if my lord mistakenly visited a wolf in human skin?”
Such obvious hostility—could it be he knows I went to Shen Qi’s? Su Yan forced a smile. “But I came home safe and sound, didn’t I? Didn’t lose a piece of me. Alright, Ah Zhui, don’t throw a tantrum. You and Shen Qi can’t keep going at each other like this. I’m caught in the middle—it’s difficult for me, you know? You don’t want to make things hard for me, do you?”
“I know he slashed you three times when he was hunting you down, and you still bear the scars. But back then, he was following orders—it wasn’t his choice. And besides, just the other day at the hot spring, didn’t you give him a good stab? Quite deep too. He didn’t retaliate, did he? Better to let go of grudges than keep them. For my sake, can you call it even between you two? Just… don’t start a fight every time you see each other, alright?”
Su Yan appealed with emotion and reason, hoping his personal guard would give him some face as his master.
But Jinghong Zhui’s face darkened even more. He gritted his teeth and asked: “I stabbed him in the inner thigh. I aimed to ruin his future bloodline, but he dodged just enough. And how would my lord know whether the wound was deep or not? Did you see it with your own eyes—or touch it with your own hands?”
Su Yan had no answer for that. In the end, he borrowed an ancient line from Magistrate Zhou: “Um… Ah… Aye.”
Jinghong Zhui was so furious his liver and lungs were about to explode.
He burned with anger and murderous intent, but couldn’t take it out on Lord Su. After all, what was Su Yan’s fault? His looks were a gift from his parents. His softness and kindness were born of a naturally good heart. He poured most of his time and energy into state affairs, diligently serving his country and people. Never once had he approached anyone with romantic intent, never tried to seduce or tempt. Instead, it was always those with power and influence who tried to possess him, entangle him.
One had to fend off the wolves and tigers lusting after him, while also avoiding making things difficult for him—and even more so, avoiding damaging his career prospects. If he couldn’t do that, then the fault lay in his own lack of ability. If you can’t protect a treasure, you’ve no right to blame the treasure for being taken. And really, what right did he have to interfere with Su Yan’s private affairs—what was he, a concubine?
Jinghong Zhui’s lips pressed into a razor-thin line. Without a word, he turned and walked off.
His sharp-tongued, jealous-tempered guard had suddenly gone silent and withdrawn, not even pursuing the matter further. Su Yan, surprisingly, began to feel uneasy. After a moment’s hesitation, he chased after him.
Jinghong Zhui walked quickly to his own room, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him.
Su Yan pressed his hand against the door, sheepishly asking, “You’re mad? Really mad?”
Jinghong Zhui didn’t answer, just pushed at the edge of the door, signaling he wanted to be alone.
Lord Su had never been shut out like this by his personal guard. This sudden behavior unsettled him. He squeezed half a leg through the door and, quite sincerely, tried to explain, “The thing between Shen Qi and me… is complicated. He once nearly died for me—”
“So did I.”
“I mean, he truly sees me as the most important person in the world—”
“So do I.”
“That’s different. I mean… he and I, we’ve, uh, done that—”
“Does my lord mean to say that you and I haven’t done that?” Jinghong Zhui shot back, and at the memory, his ears flushed with heat.
Su Yan’s face turned red. “That was an accident. You were under a delusion—I don’t blame you.”
“Well, I’m not delusional now. If I pull my lord onto the bed right this moment—would you blame me then?” Jinghong Zhui stammered slightly, but pushed forward bravely.
Su Yan quickly tried to change the subject. “Don’t make it about you. We’re talking about Shen Qi. What I mean is—whether as brothers or something else—it is what it is. He’s willing, and I can accept it. We’ll just see how things go. Ah Zhui, please, don’t stand in the way, okay?”
A pair of eyes like cold stars fixed on Su Yan, staring at him so long it made his scalp prickle. Then Jinghong Zhui grabbed him and pulled him inside, slamming the door shut.
“Whether as a guard or something else, I’m willing. I ask my lord to accept it too—and not mind my offense, alright?”
Su Yan was about to speak: “Wait, you’re completely missing the—”
“My lord, forgive me.” Jinghong Zhui apologized first—then used his long, steady breath to pin Lord Su against the door and kiss him so thoroughly he nearly passed out.
Su Yan’s face was flushed, coughing and gasping, eyes brimming with tears from the near suffocation.
Jinghong Zhui’s face was redder than his, but not from breathlessness—from embarrassment. He said guiltily, “I forgot again—should’ve let my lord breathe midway. My bad, I’m a bit rusty. But this time I won’t forget. Please… give me another chance.”
“Again? You’re pushing your luck—mmph—”
D*mn it! Can’t I just finish one d*mn sentence?! Su Yan raged inwardly. To h*ll with the cold-faced loyal dog, to h*ll with his fake awkwardness—it was all an act! Taking advantage while playing innocent, sly as a fox. This guard has to go!
