Su Yan once again felt like he was walking on thin ice—and yet he had to keep convincing himself: Stay calm. You’re a hero, treading on waves. You won’t fall through. Time to use the Lightfoot Technique…
He took a deep breath, lowered his sleeve, and solemnly answered, “Your Majesty is indeed well-informed. Plum Immortal Spring is a fine place for a bath. On my way through Jing County, I heard there was a hot spring nearby, so I went to soak and relax. The water was smooth as silk, with yellow plum blossoms blooming by the snowy pool—truly picturesque. If Your Majesty ever craves a touch of rustic charm, I highly recommend it.”
The Emperor gave him a sly look. “And yet that centuries-old yellow plum by the pool… wasn’t it cut down with one stroke by your guard? Where’s the charm in that?”
Su Yan looked ashamed. “My subordinate acted rashly—Your Majesty, forgive the vulgarity. Such an act of destroying beauty must be punished! I’ll have him transplant a new plum tree there.”
The Emperor said, “I’m afraid the punishment wasn’t for ‘destroying beauty,’ but because he was jealous, wasn’t it?”
Su Yan blinked. “Pardon?”
The Emperor sneered faintly, “Still won’t confess, huh?” He beckoned with his hand. “Come here.”
Su Yan froze, shook his head.
The Emperor’s expression turned cold, and he beckoned again, “Come. Here.”
With dread weighing down like a boulder, Su Yan crawled off his chair, dragging himself over on his knees, clinging to the Emperor’s leg, and pleaded, “Your Majesty, please don’t be angry! I was too cowardly to approach Your holy presence—please forgive me!”
The Emperor grabbed the soft flesh at the back of Su Yan’s neck and forced him to raise his head. “Cowardly? You’ve got guts the size of the sky! You dare to lay hands on the blade of the Emperor? Aren’t you afraid it will slice you up? Do you even understand what kind of sword that is? Do you know whether you were wielding the sword—or if the sword was wielding you?”
Su Yan knew the “blade of the Emperor” referred to the Embroidered Uniform Guard. And the deeper implication behind those words—he didn’t dare think about it. At this point, he was riding a tiger and could only grit his teeth and hold on.
Still clinging to the Emperor’s leg, he softly begged, “I would never dare! The Imperial Sword may have been granted by Your Majesty, but I have always used it with great caution—only to frighten corrupt officials or execute a few thugs who tried to assassinate me. I’ve never dared to treat it lightly! I brought the sword today—it’s with the guard outside the palace. Your Majesty may take it back whenever you wish. I don’t dare borrow it again!”
The emperor suspected he was deliberately dodging the question, and nearly laughed in exasperation. “Fine, still refusing to confess? Then let’s go through it one by one and make everything clear. Today, I’ll make sure you die with understanding.”
The emperor sat back down on the long sandalwood throne with gold-lacquered dragon carvings behind the desk, allowing Su Yan to cling pitifully to his leg, kneeling on the floor before him. He asked coldly, “On the day of your coming-of-age ceremony, after you got drunk and accidentally inhaled the Tianshui incense, who took you out of the palace? Where did you go afterward, and how was the drug’s effect resolved?”
Cold sweat soaked Su Yan’s back as he replied, “At the time, I was dazed and unaware of how I left the palace. Later, I regained consciousness after taking a medicinal decoction prescribed by a doctor. I was told it was Shen Qianshi who thought I had fallen ill and brought me out of the palace for treatment.”
The emperor had interrogated Shen Qi about this before, and the answer roughly matched. He had also discreetly investigated local doctors nearby; one of them admitted to visiting the Shen residence to prescribe medicine, and the prescription was still kept on record. Everything seemed airtight. The emperor had no choice but to temporarily set aside his suspicions and tossed Shen Qi into the imperial prison for half a month as a warning. But now that he reconsidered it, how could he rule out the possibility that the three parties colluded to fabricate the whole story, just to cover up a scandal?
“That night at the Plum Immortal hot springs, who broke into the pool and fought with your personal guard? And why did they fight?”
“…”
So Chu Yuan really had reported everything to the emperor without regard for even a shred of personal loyalty. That black-faced b*stard truly was a loyal subject, iron-faced and impartial! Su Yan gritted his teeth silently. The real question now was: how much did Chu Yuan actually know?
Was this the emperor showing leniency to encourage a confession—or baiting him into a trap?
If he admitted it, would he fall right into a snare? If he didn’t, would it count as deceiving the sovereign?
Life is so godd*mn hard! Would it still be in time to sacrifice those two meddlesome b*stards, Shen Qi and Jinghong Zhui, to the heavens right now?
—Wait! Speaking of sacrifice, isn’t there someone even more suitable for the job…? A gentleman’s revenge may wait ten years, and now might just be the time to strike back.
His method might not be very “gentlemanly,” but he couldn’t win in a fight, couldn’t outargue them, and even if he went to court, the other party had imperial blood to shield him. When a prince breaks the law, he’s punished like a commoner—what a joke. What else could he do, other than leverage a greater force?
At least he wouldn’t die—at most he’d get scolded and suffer a bit. Better that than other people losing their heads.
You members of the Zhu clan—settle your own mess!
Su Yan’s thoughts turned in a hundred directions before he finally made up his mind. His body stiffened, face pale. “This subject cannot say.”
The emperor pinched his chin and lifted his face, locking eyes with him. “I’ll ask you again.”
Su Yan’s eyes were filled with grief, tinged with frustration and helplessness. “This subject cannot say! Whatever else Your Majesty wishes to ask, please ask all at once. I will answer all that I can. What I cannot, I dare not speak a word of.”
The emperor’s gaze darkened like the deepening night, tinged with disappointment. With his other hand, he lightly traced from the space between Su Yan’s brows, down his eyelashes, over the bridge of his nose, along his cheek, and finally rested on his lips, the touch as soft and cool as a breeze rippling water, gently brushing again and again.
Like moonlight knocking at a door—cool, tender, and persistent in its plea to enter.
“Qinghe,” the emperor sighed, “I’ll ask you one final question—”
Su Yan held his breath.
“You said you had nothing to repay me with. Then tell me—what do you use to repay others?”
Su Yan froze.
A powerful wave of guilt surged in his chest.
He knew Emperor Jinglong was a wise ruler. He had known it for five hundred years—long before they ever met.
That was why he’d dared to speak with conviction, to warn the emperor with matters of state, to restrain him with the bond between ruler and minister—because he knew it would work better than resistance or pleading.
His claim of having “nothing to repay with” was, on one hand, meant to absolve himself of serving with his body. On the other hand, wasn’t it also a way to suppress the emperor’s humanity, to amplify his divinity, so that in his mind, the emperor would always remain the virtuous, benevolent sovereign of a flourishing age?
But he forgot that the man was not only Emperor Jinglong—he was also Zhu Junteng. A man who bore the responsibilities of a ruler, and also possessed human desires.
Those desires had long been buried under layers of duty and ritual. Only when they could no longer be suppressed would they briefly emerge—like a divine dragon revealing just a scale or a claw from the clouds, stirring the mortal world.
He could fear those desires, resent them, avoid them, reject them—but he had no right to deceive or wrongfully dismiss them while favoring others.
The more Su Yan thought, the more ashamed he felt. He had no face left to meet the emperor’s gaze. Tears rolled down silently from his eyes.
The warmth of his tears startled the emperor, and seeing the tear stains on the back of his hand reminded him of their first private meeting—Su Yan’s damp black hair wrapped in a gauze cap, beads of water gliding down the nape of his neck, just as clear and bewitching as now.
“Why are you crying?” the emperor asked hoarsely. “I’ve only asked you a few questions. I haven’t even punished you yet. I haven’t even…”
Su Yan sobbed, “This subject is deeply ashamed… I feel I’ve let Your Majesty down.”
“Let me down in what way?”
“I…”
“Qinghe, look at me. Look properly.”
Su Yan looked up through his tears.
On this day of the Grand Sacrifice to the ancestors, the emperor wore his most solemn and formal ceremonial robe. His black garments were like the night sky, embroidered with six symbolic patterns—sun and moon on the shoulders, stars and mountains on the back, dragons on both sleeves. Below, seven layers of yellow gauze robes were adorned with long, ornate sashes and two sets of jade pendants—heng, yu, ju, huang… clinking gently against gold clasps with a crisp, clear sound.
His twelve-tasseled crown hung with strands of four-colored jade beads that formed a dense curtain, veiling the subtle expressions on his face. Only two scarlet cords hung clearly against the solemn black dragon robe.
The emperor said, “I am your ruler, your Father—and your admirer.”
Su Yan felt his heart boil, both burning and aching, unable to utter a word.
“I possess all under heaven. My power reaches every corner of the realm. And yet, because I cherish you, love you, value you, I cannot bear to force you. I’ve waited for you to open your heart.”
“If, in this lifetime, you never do—if all you seek is merit and glory, to leave a name for the ages—I will still support you.”
“As the Son of Heaven, I would never stoop to forcing love. If your feelings for me are not born of true affection, but instead stem from fear, pressure, or political bargaining—then even if you stripped bare before me, I wouldn’t care to lay a finger on you.”
“I can allow you time to consider, to let feelings grow over time, even to remain emotionally detached all your life, stopping at a bond between ruler and minister — but I cannot allow you to bloom within the walls and scent the air outside.”
“Whoever dares to climb your branch and steal your fragrance — I will break his hand.”
“I won’t lay a finger on you, but I will deal with that person.”
Su Yan’s heart still ached, but this time it was out of pity for himself — the sorrow of a man shackled by a chastity belt surged through him like a flood.
“My intentions are quite clear now, Su Qing,” the Emperor said. “What are your thoughts?”
Su Yan wept, “I feel so awful inside, I truly don’t know how to say it…”
The Emperor gave a faint smile and withdrew the hand pinching his chin. No longer forced to raise his face for inspection, Su Yan immediately buried his head in the Emperor’s lap, against the red robe embroidered with fiery clouds and dragon patterns.
“Half a year ago, in my bedchamber, when I conferred the crown upon you, you were just like this. Whimpering ‘I don’t feel well,’ burrowing into my embrace, rubbing against my robes. Now, you can burrow and rub however you like — but first, you must tell me: who was that man?”
Su Yan shook his head, tears soaking the dragon-embroidered robe.
The Emperor was unmoved. “Will you confess, or shall I make you? Your personal guard fought with the man — he must know who it was. I need only toss him into the Imperial Prison, and I’ll have my answer. Perhaps under questioning, your guard himself won’t get off easily either.”
Seeing the matter couldn’t be smoothed over today, and afraid both Shen Qi and Jinghong Zhui wouldn’t escape punishment without something real to pacify the Emperor, Su Yan gritted his teeth and made a decision. He climbed off the Emperor’s lap, removed his official cap and belt, and began untying his censorate robes.
The Emperor blinked in surprise, then sneered coldly. “What did I just say? Didn’t you hear?”
He heard perfectly. Even if he stripped naked, the Emperor wouldn’t touch him. But it was freezing cold — what, did he want to freeze to death? Su Yan folded his robes neatly, placed them on the floor with his cap, and stood straight in plain white underclothes and dark trousers. “I lack both talent and virtue. Not only have I failed to share your burdens, I’ve made you angry. I am unworthy of office. This humble commoner begs to resign and return home, pleading Your Majesty’s gracious approval.”
The Emperor slammed his armrest and said darkly, “Resign? What are you, eighty? Why act so shameless and unruly — disgracing yourself! Put your robes back on. Trying to use this to manipulate me? Dream on!”
Su Yan, tearful and utterly sincere, replied: “I’m not threatening anyone. I really just don’t want to be an official anymore! Up earlier than the rooster, to bed later than the dog — reading reports, keeping company, reviewing memos, investigating cases, pushing reforms, overseeing infrastructure, almost dying a few times on missions. I finally make it back to the capital, haven’t even stepped inside my own home, and I’m summoned to serve in the palace — I never once thought of it as hardship… But now I truly can’t go on anymore!”
He sneezed, and continued: “I, Su Qinghe, come from a clean lineage. I earned my title through hard study, not to seek profit, but to fulfill my ideals. Since taking office, I’ve dedicated myself to every assignment for fear of failing the people or the realm. I can’t say I’ve achieved much, but I’ve never slacked off. And yet now, I can’t even protect my own guard — he’s to be interrogated and imprisoned over nothing? What did he do wrong? He was only doing his duty. He fought someone who entered the bath uninvited — how could he have known who it was? Even if he did, if I don’t dare pursue the matter, how could he?”
“If that’s enough to throw him into prison, then I, as his master, have no face left in court. Either let me resign and go home, or toss me in prison too!”
Emperor Jinglong’s face turned pale and angry. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Su Yan! Put your outer robes back on and answer properly — I won’t punish you. Keep throwing this tantrum, and don’t blame me for being harsh.”
Su Yan sneezed again and rubbed his nose. “I’ve got nothing else to say. I want to go home!”
The Emperor shot up and advanced, Su Yan turned and fled, but was seized by the arm and dragged back. The Emperor sat heavily on the dragon throne, pulled Su Yan face-down over his lap, and gave his butt a loud, clear slap.
Smack! Su Yan was stunned — what was happening right now?!
“What kind of person are you defending so desperately — even at the cost of your position and your life?” Another slap.
“You think the Imperial Prison is a place you can walk in and out of at will?” Smack!
“You think just because I favor you, you can ride roughshod over me?” Smack!
“You want to resign? I’ll tear apart this rebellious streak of yours first!” Smack!
The burning pain in Su Yan’s backside was nothing compared to the crushing humiliation — being spanked over someone’s lap like a disobedient toddler… Had he ever suffered such disgrace in this life or the last?
He squirmed, trying to escape, and the Emperor threatened, “Stay still, or I’ll call in the Crown Prince to show him what happens when someone defies his sovereign.”
— What?! Let Zhu Helin witness this? He’d spent every day posturing before that brat, playing mentor and seasoned veteran — if that got out, he might as well be dead!
Su Yan covered his face with his sleeves, sniveling as he begged, “It’s my fault! I won’t resign anymore! Please, Your Majesty, have mercy — no more spanking…”
The Emperor gave one final slap. The soft bounce of those well-shaped buttocks in his palm was dangerously tempting, but he quickly reined himself in, took a breath, and leaned close to Su Yan’s ear.
“Who is he, that even you dare not pursue him?”
Su Yan shook his head, sobbing.
“Is it because you’re afraid… or because you can’t bear to?”
Su Yan sobbed and hiccupped, wiping his snot and tears all over the Emperor’s ceremonial robes.
“Was it Shen Qi? He was deep in investigations at the time — he had the time and the means.”
Su Yan hiccupped a cry and mumbled, “Please stop pressing me… I… I’m no longer, ah-choo, a clean man.”
The Emperor gripped his shoulders, seemingly wanting to slap his butt again, but restrained himself. Instead, he helped the face-down Su Yan sit upright.
Su Yan now straddled the Emperor’s lap, hair disheveled, collar loose, hiding his face in his hand from sheer shame.
The Emperor noticed the corner of a page peeking from within Su Yan’s open robes. He pulled it out — a slim booklet — flipped through it briefly. It appeared to be some new policy Su Yan had drafted again. He set it aside for the moment.
There seemed to be something in his arms. The emperor reached inside to feel around. Su Yan was startled, shrinking back and pressing his collar closed. “Let me go put my outer robe on,” he said.
The emperor supported his back, not allowing him to move, and proceeded to empty the contents of his arms, flipping through each item. He frowned. “You really are all about work—carrying official documents on you at all times. Hmm? What’s this impeachment memorial? Who are you impeaching? The County Prince of Pingliang… What did that fat son of the royal family do to offend you?”
Su Yan quickly snatched it back and tucked it into his robe. “It’s a backup I was keeping. I’m not ready to use it yet. Please don’t look at it just now, Your Majesty.”
A crumpled piece of paper slipped out from inside his clothing and dropped between the emperor’s legs.
In that instant, a sharp pang tightened in Su Yan’s chest. He suddenly changed his mind—he no longer wanted to use someone else’s hand for revenge.
If he was going to take revenge on Yu Wang for the assault, he would do it himself. As for saving Shen Qi’s life, he would find another way.
He quickly reached between the emperor’s legs, grabbed the crumpled paper, and stuffed it back into his robe.
The emperor grunted softly—it was unclear whether he had suffered a hit or been aroused. He grabbed Su Yan’s wrist and pressed his waist down.
Beneath the cushion, something suddenly rose like a mountain. Su Yan’s heart pounded, and he struggled frantically, sneezing three or four times and breaking out in goosebumps. But in the commotion, the paper ball fell again.
It rolled from between the emperor’s legs onto the seat of the chair. Su Yan reached for it, but the emperor was faster, picking it up with two fingers.
“What’s so important about this?”
“Nothing. Just a wad of doodled scrap paper. It’s dirty—I’ll go throw it away.”
“Then why keep dirty scrap paper on you? Let me see… it’s even got burn marks…”
The emperor unfolded the crumpled ball and quickly scanned it. His face darkened like a storm cloud. Su Yan could only watch helplessly, unable to stop him. In his heart, he silently put his hands together toward Yu Wang: This isn’t me trying to destroy you—it’s your own sins that have gone too far. Even heaven can’t bear to watch anymore.
The most indecent parts of the letter had been burned into holes, but even so, the emperor could still piece together what had happened—an arrogant love letter, proud and boastful, describing how Yu Wang had assaulted someone and felt entitled about it.
The emperor’s hand trembled slightly as he held the page, but his face was expressionless, as if an apocalyptic storm was brewing in the silence.
Su Yan explained, “He had it delivered to me by a messenger when I was in Shaanxi. I was so furious I nearly fainted. At first I wanted to burn it, but then I thought, if one day it comes to court, I might need it as evidence—so I kept it.”
The emperor’s lips moved, but no sound came out—perhaps because once he spoke, the air would be filled with the blood-scent of fratricide.
Something like this had happened right under his nose, in the capital city.
It had been over six months. Only now did he learn the truth. And in the meantime, who knew how many more disgusting letters Yu Wang had sent, continuing to humiliate and torment the victim…
And during these past few days since Su Yan’s return to the capital, every time he encountered Yu Wang face to face, he must have been seething with hatred while still having to greet him with civility—what kind of torment was that?
Did Qinghe believe that, as the emperor’s brother, he would inevitably shield Yu Wang? That even if he made an official accusation, it would be in vain—so he didn’t even bother to tell him?
If not for the habit of carrying important documents on his person, exposing Yu Wang’s crimes—would his Qinghe have just swallowed his teeth and blood and endured this humiliation for the rest of his life?
The emperor shut his eyes in pain. The paper crumbled to dust between his fingers. Then he extended his arms and pulled Su Yan tightly into his embrace.
The emperor’s vivid red tassels swung before Su Yan’s eyes. He could hear the furious thump of the emperor’s heartbeat, pounding inside a broad, solid chest.
The emperor’s embrace was warm and protective, shielding against all the blades and frost of the world. Su Yan felt warm and burrowed even deeper into it.
The emperor cradled his young minister and lover, who was eighteen years his junior. He bowed his head and kissed the crown of Su Yan’s head tenderly, sighing, “My Qinghe has suffered…”
Su Yan cried.
This time, he cried genuinely, uncontrollably. His tears soaked through the black-robed imperial garments, through the white underlayer—scorching straight into the emperor’s heart.
Choking back sobs, Su Yan said, “I just want a genuine, remorseful apology from him. Nothing else.”
