Su Yan woke up to find no one beside him. The blanket had been tucked in neatly.
He had talked with Jinghong Zhui for a long time last night, eventually dozing off. He didn’t know when the other had left. Probably off tailing Fuyin, as ordered. Ah Zhui always carried out tasks methodically and reliably.
Seeing that it was already late in the day, Su Yan got up and began drafting his memorial to the throne, preparing to submit it via the regular Inspection Bureau process to request an audience. The emperor had reinstated him as Right Shaoqing of the Dali Temple, but he retained his role as censor, which offered a direct channel for submitting opinions—more convenient, really.
Before he could finish the memorial, an imperial edict arrived, summoning him for an audience in the first hour of Shenshi .
The timing of the summons was quite fitting—it likely concerned the progress of the Court of Diplomatic Rites case. Su Yan instructed two attendants to pack the New Year’s gifts for the emperor and the little crown prince, then rode by carriage through the palace gates and was received by an inner attendant, who led him to the East Warm Pavilion of Qianqing Palace.
There was no brazier in the warm pavilion. Instead, it used ground dragons: heating channels built beneath the palace floors. In winter, lit charcoal was poured into them to warm the tiles, raising the room’s temperature. Smoke was vented through flues that led outside, so the room stayed warm but smoke-free.
As soon as Su Yan entered, he was met by a wave of cozy warmth and gave a contented shiver.
Emperor Jinglong was lounging on the luohan couch, reading a book by the table.
He wasn’t wearing an overcoat or waist sash, just a loose ochre robe with wide sleeves embroidered with swastikas and lotus petal spirals—symbols of peace and auspiciousness. On his head was a small jade hair crown, with two tiny golden hairpins inserted on either side. He exuded a relaxed air of leisure.
Su Yan was about to kneel in greeting when the emperor glanced up, turned a page, and said: “No need. What have you brought to see me with? That bundle looks heavy.”
Su Yan retrieved the bulky bundle from the sweating eunuch’s hands and replied: “These are New Year’s offerings for Your Majesty. I know Your Majesty wants for nothing, but since it’s the new year, I’ve selected some seasonal treats and items to express my humble devotion.”
The emperor closed the book and waved his hand. A eunuch stepped forward to take the book and return it to the shelf, then bowed and left the warm pavilion, closing the doors.
Now it was just the emperor and his minister.
The emperor tapped the table lightly. “Lets see this ‘devotion’ from Qinghe.”
Su Yan placed the bundle on the table, opened the wrapping cloth, and introduced each item as he laid them out: “This is a pearl lantern from Fujian—brought from my hometown by a servant. The Treatise on Superfluous Things calls it the finest of all lanterns—perfect for Your Majesty’s enjoyment during the Lantern Festival.”
“This is Liuan pine needle tea. I love the olive aroma in its aftertaste. Brewed together with fresh green olives, it becomes even more fragrant.”
“This is cheese I made myself—steamed with crane wine and floral dew added to fresh milk. A very distinctive flavor—Your Majesty may wish to try it.”
“This…”
There was also an octagonal lacquer box painted with pine and cranes, each layer containing New Year treats like walnuts, hazelnuts, dried persimmons, lion mandarins, phoenix tangerines, and flower-shaped pastries. Not particularly expensive, but clearly chosen with care and full of meaning.
The emperor smiled as he listened, casually picking a dried persimmon from the box and taking a bite.
“Not sweet.”
Su Yan was momentarily stunned. “How can that be? I tasted it myself before buying.”
The Emperor brought the persimmon cake to Su Yan’s lips. “Try it yourself.”
Su Yan instinctively took a bite. It was soft and smooth, and sweet enough to make his teeth ache.
The Emperor let out a quiet chuckle. Only then did Su Yan realize: “Your Majesty is teasing me!” He then noticed the two sets of bite marks side by side on the cake and inexplicably blushed. It felt far too intimate—not just for a ruler and his subject, but even for ordinary friends.
The Emperor didn’t seem to care and casually finished the rest of the persimmon cake. He set the stem on the table, dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief, and said, “Do you know why I summoned you to the palace?”
Su Yan ventured cautiously, “I presume Your Majesty wishes to inquire about the progress of the Court of Diplomatic Rites case?”
“No. I want to punish you for the crime of deceiving the Emperor.”
A thunderclap on a clear day—an offense worthy of execution! Su Yan’s heart pounded as he immediately dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty, I have never deceived you. I beg you to investigate thoroughly!”
The Emperor lifted Su Yan’s chin with a finger and looked him in the eye. “Last night, I went to Yu Wang’s residence.”
“…Did Yu Wang deny it? Claim I was slandering him?”
“He had the guts to admit everything—including the two new bite marks you left.” The Emperor’s face darkened, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, thunder threatening to crash down at any moment. “But that night at the Plum Immortal Spring, it wasn’t him who was there.”
A flash of panic overtook Su Yan. His thoughts raced, and he tried to buy time: “I never said it was him. At the time, I—”
The Emperor abruptly cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“…”
“I want the truth. But yesterday you evaded the question, and today you’re still trying to cover it up. If I keep asking, you’ll definitely be guilty of deceiving your sovereign.”
“Your Majesty…”
“Su Yan, you knew what you were doing. Are you expecting me to turn a blind eye and be lenient?”
Su Yan was overwhelmed with guilt—ashamed for betraying the Emperor’s trust and affection, yet utterly unwilling to expose Shen Qi and subject him to the wrath of a monarch consumed by possessiveness. Torn from both sides, he wished he could just keel over and die from a heart attack right there.
But he knew exactly what kind of man the Emperor was—his usual tactic of “shut my eyes and faint dramatically” would never work here.
If he didn’t come up with something fast to derail this whole “caught-in-the-act” vibe, the Emperor might really summon Shen Qi to the palace and confront him face-to-face—and force Su Yan to watch what it meant for imperial fury to come crashing down.
There was one thing Su Yan grudgingly admired about himself: his ability to think on his feet at critical moments—as if his ancestors had sent down some loyal spirit to bail him out.
In the blink of an eye, he transformed from “guilty and cowardly Su the Scoundrel” to “righteous and unyielding Censor Su,” as if flipping a switch in his personality.
The speed and sincerity of that shift was almost uncanny.
Su Yan grasped the Emperor’s hand, which was still hooked beneath his chin, and, in a voice full of righteous indignation—like Lin Xiangru forcing King Zhaoxiang of Qin to beat the drum—declared: “Disaster looms, yet Your Majesty still has time to worry about such trivialities—petty personal matters and romantic entanglements. Where is the responsibility and duty of a monarch?”
“Whether it was a person or a dog that intruded into my bath—that’s the sort of petty detail even a county clerk would ignore. Is it really more important than foreign envoys being murdered, slanderous rumors against the Crown Prince running rampant, or the treachery hidden within the Crown Prince’s estate?”
“Emperor Wen of Han once foolishly ‘spoke to ghosts but not to the people.’ Will Your Majesty now do the same—ignore state affairs to pry into someone’s private life?”
“How can a ruler abandon the essential to chase the trivial? Sacrifice the public for the sake of the private? I am heartbroken! Deeply heartbroken!”
Emperor Jinglong’s face turned a shade of green. He abruptly rose, glaring down at the kneeling Su Yan.
A blur of memories surged through his mind—those pompous censors who always gave him a headache, driven by the noble belief that “rebuking the Emperor and dying for it is glorious,” kneeling in front of him, demanding justice.
“Your Majesty, the ancestral system must not be defied! The late Emperor’s temple name must not be altered!”
“Your Majesty, the Embroidered Uniform Guards act with unchecked arrogance. Officials live in fear, the people suffer—how can you allow it?”
“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince is unruly and refuses to heed the Grand Tutor’s discipline. How can he bear the weight of the empire in the future? Please don’t let your current indulgence become tomorrow’s chaos!”
“Your Majesty…”
Each one thumped their chests and wailed, bursting into tears at the height of their rage, as if they longed to smash their heads against a pillar and die for glory.
How much of it was genuine concern for the country and how much was just self-righteous grandstanding?
And the worst part—he couldn’t even punish them. If he did, he’d be seen as petty and vindictive, confirming all their accusations.
Now, the one minister he favored the most was pulling the exact same stunt—and doing it flawlessly. The bitterness in his chest nearly choked him. He couldn’t explode, but he couldn’t swallow it either.
This d*mn Su Qinghe… I reinstated his position, why didn’t I remove his title as Censor while I was at it? Am I just keeping him around to piss myself off?
Having finished his furious tirade, Censor Su knew full well he’d overstepped. Even if technically blameless, he’d likely strained their personal rapport. Still, he had no choice but to press on. Bowing repeatedly, he pleaded: “Your Majesty must place the state above all else! I have urgent matters to report!”
Emperor Jinglong very much wanted to rip off that smug ‘Censor Su’ persona and spank him on the spot—yet suddenly felt no joy in it.
This Su Yan… only showed warmth and tenderness when treated as an equal. Like a docile cat curled in one’s lap. But the moment someone tried to assert dominance over him, he’d turn cold and businesslike.
As if to say—treat me with respect, and I’ll return the affection. Use your status to pressure me, and we’re just ruler and subject—nothing more.
So infuriating. So detestable.
And yet… so utterly exasperating.
The Emperor slowly sat back down with a sigh, his voice tinged with fatigue. “Enough. I won’t force you. But likewise—you have no say in how I deal with others.”
Now Su Yan was truly terrified. If the Emperor wouldn’t punish him, but went after Shen Qi or Jinghong Zhui instead… the outcome was no different from his own execution.
Clutching the Emperor’s legs, he pleaded earnestly, “Your Majesty, have mercy! I’ve devoted myself to serving the state. I only beg that you consider the bigger picture. Let’s first eliminate the immediate threat. If we sacrifice allies while facing external enemies—won’t that only bring joy to our enemies and grief to our friends?”
The phrase “the external threat remains unresolved, yet we break our own weapons” made the emperor fall silent for a moment. At last, he asked, “Just now you mentioned that slanderous rumors about the crown prince are running rampant, and there’s a traitor hidden in Yu Wang’s manor. What’s all that about?”
Su Yan quickly recounted everything that had happened in recent days and the findings of his investigation, carefully omitting that Jinghong Zhui was from the secretive Hidden Sword Sect. He only mentioned he was a rogue martial artist who had left his former sect and now loyally followed him.
His knees grew numb from kneeling on the hard floor, even with underfloor heating it was too much.
Seeing this, the emperor casually pulled him up onto the luohan couch.
Su Yan was at a critical point in his explanation, so he didn’t put on airs about being a virtuous official. He simply curled up obediently at the other end of the couch.
The emperor found the table in the middle bothersome, so he personally moved it—along with the scattered New Year’s gifts atop it—to a nearby round table. Then he leaned back comfortably on the couch again and pulled Su Yan into his arms.
Su Yan, half-lying on the emperor’s chest, flushed with embarrassment and tried to slide off the couch.
The emperor wrapped an arm around him, not letting him move, and commanded, “Keep talking.”
Su Yan protested, blushing, “Ministers report while kneeling, standing, or at most sitting. Who ever heard of delivering a report lying down?”
The emperor replied, “This posture is comfortable for me. What, is Lord Su even going to manage this level of personal detail? Do I need to follow the late emperor and say ‘I fear the censors’? Fine, we can call in the official recorder and let Lord Su make his mark in history early.”
Su Yan had no rebuttal and had to brace himself with his arms, trying not to lean his full weight on the Son of Heaven, continuing his report in a broken, awkward posture.
He was clearly uncomfortable, and his arms were growing sore. Meanwhile, the emperor looked perfectly at ease. As he listened, he said, “No wonder Yu Wang has been so ill lately. He seemed clear-headed enough when I saw him, but his emotions were chaotic, his temper volatile. He even flashed anger in his eyes several times while speaking with me. So it was the Bewitching flute that caused it, not his true intent.”
The words “flashed anger in his eyes” made Su Yan shudder. Suddenly, he realized what Fu Yin’s intention must have been—
He wanted to drive Yu Wang into a spiral of resentment and frustration, to the point where he might lose control and strike out at the emperor? Given Yu Wang’s martial prowess, if he acted like Song Taizong and created another “axe and candlelight” incident… even if he didn’t mean to rebel, it would amount to rebellion!
Sensing Su Yan’s chill, the emperor gently rubbed his back to comfort him. “He didn’t act rashly. I’m unharmed. No need to worry.”
But Su Yan grew more anxious the more he thought about it. Had it been a mistake to conceal Fu Yin’s existence from Yu Wang last night for fear of alerting the enemy?
He looked to the emperor for insight.
The emperor considered it and asked, “You said your guard found something strange in the wine from Fu Yin’s room?”
“Yes. He smelled datura in the leftover wine. I’ve heard from Master Yingxu that datura not only numbs pain but also confuses the mind and weakens willpower. I suspect someone in Yu Wang manor grew suspicious of Fu Yin and tried to use the drug to get him to talk. But my guard also said it had no effect on him. He feared the interrogator might end up getting harmed instead.”
The emperor nodded. “Yu Wang keeps strict control. This must have been on his orders. Even if it wasn’t, he should be aware by now and won’t fall into his trap again. That brother of mine—as long as he doesn’t get tripped up by matters of love or lust—is quite clever.”
Su Yan, having his own personal grievances, didn’t think Yu Wang was clever at all. He just found him shameless, vain, and thick-skinned.
Still, since the emperor wasn’t overly concerned, he was happy not to waste further energy on it.
“You did well sending your guard to watch Fu Yin and follow the clues. But with your people tied up, you’re left without protection, which worries me. I’ll assign some capable, trustworthy Embroidered Uniform Guard to serve as your temporary bodyguards. How about that?”
Su Yan had been wanting to ask for guards anyway—he was quite fond of his own life—so he gladly accepted the favor with thanks.
At the same time, he thought to take the opportunity to slip off the couch.
But the emperor pressed a hand gently but firmly on his back.
Su Yan’s sore, trembling arms gave out, and he collapsed fully onto the emperor’s chest.
The emperor whispered in his ear, “There are eight thousand Embroidered Uniform Guard. Which one do you want? What about Shen Qi from the Northern Surveillance Bureau?”
Su Yan, whose nerves had just started to relax, was jolted again by this sudden blow. Nearly in tears, he said, “No, no, anyone but him. I must avoid suspicion.”
The emperor gave his waist a firm pat, somewhere between soothing and threatening. “Good. You know to avoid suspicion.”
Su Yan felt a chill. He was certain the emperor would assign someone to spy on him and Shen Qi. If they had any contact beyond official duties, a report would be on the emperor’s desk before they could finish saying hello. Now, even if he didn’t want to avoid suspicion, he’d be forced to!
“Lord Su seems reluctant? Should I assign Shen Tongzhi to you after all?”
“No! Absolutely not! Every word I said came from the bottom of my heart. Avoid suspicion—I swear I will!”
Only then did the emperor’s expression soften. He slipped an arm around Su Yan’s waist and said, “You complained of a lean summer, yet now that it’s winter—the time for fattening up—you don’t seem to have gained a bit.”
Su Yan muttered under his breath, “Fattening up… I’m not a pig.”
The emperor chuckled. “I’m thinking of having you stay for dinner. Or does that violate yet another rule, and I’ll have to suffer more righteous scolding?”
Su Yan knew perfectly well that his earlier performance had angered the emperor, and this whole “righteous censor” bit would be used to tease him for a while. He pretended not to hear and changed the subject. “What fine palace delicacy will Your Majesty bestow upon me today?”
The emperor replied, “The ‘Buddha Jumps Over the Wall’ soup you named yourself. You’ve worked hard this year, even missing the chance to go home for New Year. Consider this a small taste of home.”
Su Yan was stunned. He felt deeply moved by the emperor’s attentiveness, and even more ashamed of his earlier tricks. He buried his face in the emperor’s chest and murmured, “I am overwhelmed by the honor.”
The emperor scoffed gently, “You’re overwhelmed, sure—but hardly surprised. You’re as sly and slippery as they come. Bold as a dog, too.”
Su Yan obediently replied, “Woof.”
The emperor was taken aback for a moment, then couldn’t stop laughing. He stroked Su Yan’s shoulder and back, half-sighing and half-musing: “Qinghe… ah, Qinghe.”
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