Shen Qi once had a dream.
He couldn’t remember exactly when—probably sometime before Su Yan returned to the capital from Shaanxi, and shortly after Gao Shuo secretly reported that “Jinghong Zhui, using his position as a close attendant, had climbed into Lord Su’s bed.”
In the dream, Su Yan held the hand of a blurry figure—unclear whether male or female—and said to him, gently but firmly, “I’ve fallen for someone else. You and I can only remain brothers in this life.”
He snapped.
He killed that vague figure, killed Su Yan who wouldn’t turn back, and finally embraced Su Yan’s corpse, carving himself to death one stab at a time.
His ghost, unable to reincarnate and full of resentment, wandered nightly around the grave where the two were buried together, asking every spring leaf and every winter snowflake: “Have you seen my wife?”
When he woke, Shen Qi was drenched in cold sweat, as if pulled from water.
He had always known something was wrong with himself. The problem wasn’t in his flesh or bones—it was in his heart.
There lived inside him a sadistic beast, lurking in the dark, that would tear and howl from time to time, needing cries of pain and suffering soaked in blood to be fed.
The Embroidered Guards, the Northern Surveillance Bureau, the Imperial Prison—they had all suited him well, giving him proper justification to cloak that bloody scent with “duty” and “orders.”
But after meeting Su Yan, everything changed.
He had to be careful all the time—not to let that beast’s claws and fangs ever touch Su Yan, not even let Su Yan see it. He had to cautiously hide the black karmic flames that burned in his soul.
He had to restrain himself more than he had in ten years under Feng Qu’e. Even in bed, he didn’t dare relax. Every bite mark he left on Su Yan’s body was backed by repeated self-checks, warnings, and punishments.
And now, because of Jinghong Zhui’s words, he felt himself torn in two—
One half dark, restless, frenzied, destructive. Tempted to let everything burn, to make that dream a reality.
Another half of him remained rational, his spirit unextinguished. The lingering sweetness of linden honey still clung to his soul, echoing with repeated calls of “Qilang.”
One half sought death, the other clung to life.
Jinghong Zhui remained half-squatting in front of him, studying him with a scrutinizing gaze. He said coldly, “You reek of blood.”
No sh*t! Shen Qi flung off his wrist and wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s got nothing to do with your injury,” Jinghong Zhui continued. “It’s the smell of you—I can tell. You wear an official’s skin, but deep down, you’re a man with nothing to lose.”
Like h*ll I’m the same kind of trash as you!
Coughing up that clotted blood had lessened the twisting pain in his chest somewhat. The torrent of emotion was slowly cooling. Shen Qi straightened up against the carriage wall, now regarding this wild outlaw before him from a different perspective.
The man’s greatest virtue, Shen Qi thought, was probably his loyalty to Qinghe—though that loyalty no doubt stemmed from a toad’s gratitude for having eaten swan meat. But in several moments of true crisis, he had proven willing to die for Qinghe.
While Shen Qi was recovering from injury, Qinghe’s safety could be at risk. No matter how dutiful the palace guards or Embroidered Uniform Guard were, they acted on orders, not out of personal concern. Even if they cared, they might not have the strength to protect him. Case in point: despite the many guards last night, Qinghe had still been abducted.
At least for now, Jinghong Zhui was usable. Especially when surrounded by high-ranking predators, his lack of background and “barefoot fears nothing” attitude made him a suitable ally—
—certainly more so than Yu Wang.
Shen Qi recalled how Yu Wang had once tried to recruit him, with clear intent to join forces against the Emperor. He had sneered inwardly:
You never drive a wedge between family. However much resentment Yu Wang held, he was still the Emperor’s full brother.
More importantly, how had Yu Wang treated Qinghe? Shen Qi could hardly wait to cut him down—how could he possibly cooperate with him?
The Emperor held the power of life and death. Yu Wang was devious, and the Crown Prince was like a young tiger sharpening his claws. Shen Qi was fighting alone under pressure from all sides. Even if he navigated every trap, no matter how clever, could he truly keep Qinghe safe?
Since Jinghong Zhui had taken the initiative to propose an alliance, given the circumstances, better to make use of him—for now. Reckoning could come later. Shen Qi gathered his thoughts and said evenly, “Two desperados—how do we stand against three royalty of the same blood?”
Jinghong Zhui stood and returned to his seat, hugging his sword again. “A man’s life, no matter how noble, is still just one life. In the end, it depends on what the master wants.”
“He’s soft-hearted, you know that,” Shen Qi said.
Jinghong Zhui thought for a moment. “We’ll see. If things really come down to life and death, he’ll have his considerations, and we’ll have our methods.”
Shen Qi said no more, closing his eyes as if to rest. Inwardly, he wondered: if faced with a choice where only one side could live—what would Qinghe choose?
—
Su Yan got off the carriage and saw a eunuch waiting by the roadside. The eunuch stepped forward and said, “You’ve had a hard journey, sir. Is it an edict or a verbal summons?”
The eunuch bowed. “A verbal summons. This way, Lord Su, don’t keep His Majesty waiting.”
Su Yan looked down at himself—his cloak was stained with mud, and he was still wearing night-clothes underneath. Embarrassed, he said, “I’m in no state to appear before the Emperor. Might I freshen up first?”
The eunuch glanced toward the street corner and smiled. “There’s a carriage prepared with a kettle, towels, and clean clothes. If Lord Su would follow me, you may change inside.”
Su Yan saw a grand four-horse carriage parked far off—twice the size of an ordinary one. The interior must be spacious. He nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
He followed the eunuch to the carriage, climbed the steps, and entered.
As expected, it was as spacious as a meditation chamber. A floor-to-ceiling screen divided the sitting area from the sleeping quarters. In front were tables and chairs; behind the screen, faintly visible through the carved latticework, was a low couch covered with satin quilts.
This was practically a small apartment. Truly the palace spared no expense. Su Yan silently marveled, then removed his cloak and hung it on a wall hook, looking around for a water jug.
The water seemed freshly poured—still warm. He used a cloth to wash his hands and face, stripped off the night-clothes and rolled them into a bundle. Finding nowhere to dispose of them, he wrapped them in his cloak and stashed the bundle in a corner.
Five long claw marks lay across his shoulder, dried blood crusted at the edges. They looked nasty but weren’t deep. Su Yan paid them little mind and, bare-chested, rummaged through a stack of new robes in the cabinet for an inner garment.
He had planned to return Shen Qi home, summon Master Yingxu to treat Shen Qi’s injuries, and get his own cleaned up while he was at it. But the Emperor’s summons had come mid-journey, so he’d have to wait.
Just then, a soft gasp broke the silence in the carriage, like someone in pain.
Su Yan turned toward the screen. “Who’s there?”
He first saw a glimpse of pale blue robes, finely embroidered. The person stepped out from behind the screen—it was the Emperor, in plain clothes.
“Your Majesty?” Su Yan was startled. Realizing he was half-dressed and disrespectful, he hastily grabbed a robe and threw it over himself, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He didn’t dare meet the Emperor’s eyes as he fumbled with the sash.
The Emperor approached and grasped his hand, voice low: “Don’t move.” He opened the robe, pulled down one sleeve, and examined Su Yan’s shoulder.
“A flying claw did this?” The Emperor frowned.
Su Yan flushed and nodded. “It’s not deep. I’ll apply medicine later—it’ll be fine.”
The Emperor seated him, poured a new basin of warm water, and personally cleaned the wound. He then retrieved golden wound powder from the cabinet and applied it, before wrapping the injury in gauze with great care.
Su Yan, watching the Emperor silently tend to him, grew increasingly uneasy. Memories of last night’s chaos flashed in his mind. He glanced down at himself anxiously—thankfully, Ah Zhui had only licked, not bitten. No teeth marks, only a few bruises—easy enough to pass off as bumps or falls.
A brazier warmed the carriage, warding off the early spring chill. Being shirtless for a while wouldn’t hurt. After tying off the gauze, the Emperor even rubbed medicinal wine onto the bruises.
Su Yan was stimulated by the sharp scent of the medicinal wine and let out a sneeze. After a brief hesitation, he asked in a low voice, “Your Majesty doesn’t want to ask what happened to me after I was abducted by the assassins last night, or how I made it back this morning?”
While rubbing the medicine in, the emperor countered calmly, “If I don’t ask, would you not say anything on your own?”
Su Yan replied sheepishly, “I saw it was time for morning court and didn’t expect Your Majesty to be in the carriage. I was caught off guard and forgot to report in time.”
The emperor said mildly, “Morning court has already ended.”
Ended? It was only just the hour of Si, not even halfway through the usual time.
The emperor looked at him, seemingly seeing through the doubt in his heart. “Last night, I received an urgent report that you were attacked and abducted in Dashiyong Lane. What do you think I felt at that moment?”
Su Yan looked ashamed. “It was my carelessness that caused Your Majesty worry.”
The emperor paused his hands for a moment, then continued massaging in the medicine. “I immediately dispatched the imperial guards and Embroidered Uniform Guard to search the city, and waited in Yangxin Hall for their return. I waited from the second watch to the third, from the third to the fourth, and even when dawn broke, still there was no word from you.”
“Your Majesty…” Su Yan lowered his head, not daring to meet his gaze.
“For fifteen years I’ve sat the throne, never once have I missed morning court due to illness, and today could not be an exception. So I went to Fengtian Gate to listen to court proceedings, but no matter how I tried, the officials below just buzzed like bees. I couldn’t make out a single thing they were saying—it only gave me a headache. Fortunately, at that moment, news arrived saying you were safe and had returned to the outer city. I announced the court’s dismissal and came out in plain clothes to meet you.”
Su Yan grasped the emperor’s hand, his chest tightening with emotion. “Your Majesty…”
The emperor picked up a cloth and wiped the medicine off both their hands, letting out a deep sigh. “Qinghe, I’m getting old. I can’t handle this kind of turmoil anymore. If you ever use your own safety to scare me again, I’ll take back the authority I’ve granted you and make you stay quietly in the state bureau.”
Su Yan felt even worse. His nose tingled, and a mist gathered in his eyes. “This is all my fault. I never meant to frighten Your Majesty… You’re not old at all… I still want to continue investigating this case…”
The emperor said, “I know you’re devoted to public duty. And now you’re saying all this soft talk in front of me just to keep pursuing the case.”
Su Yan shook his head vigorously, but couldn’t find words to refute him. He gritted his teeth, put on his undershirt, and, with trembling fingers, tied the sash. Then he knelt on the ground and said, “This heart of mine… can’t be completely selfless. May Your Majesty judge me clearly.”
“Don’t lift your shoulders. That wound was just bandaged!” The emperor raised his voice without realizing, then softened again with a sigh. “With other officials, I wish all of them would be loyal and selfless. But with you, Su Qinghe, I actually hope you’d be a little more selfish. Think more about yourself… What a contradiction, eh.”
The emperor bent down to help Su Yan up, and in the same motion, pulled him into an embrace, kissing his forehead. “You’ve done very well. It’s me who’s become obsessed.”
Su Yan choked up. “This subject… has let Your Majesty down.”
He was deeply grateful for all the emperor had given him, yet he couldn’t reciprocate with equal measure. It felt like he was standing at the edge of a forbidden boundary—one step beyond, and the world would turn upside down with no way back. As the Son of Heaven, how could the emperor allow others to touch what was his alone? Even if Shen Qi and Jinghong Zhui held their peace, the emperor would not forgive them.
It was a deadlocked situation. The only viable choice was not to cross the line and to retreat while he still could.
But could the emperor tolerate being rejected again and again?
Even if he could, how could Su Yan bear to see him disappointed time after time?
Qinghe, hurry up. Don’t make me wait too long.
Every word was a needle to the heart, a spell to stir it.
The emperor gently patted his back. “Alright, don’t cry. You always end up in tears before me, as if I bully you with my power.”
Su Yan shamefully wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling that private matters were so much harder to deal with than public ones. If he could rewind time to the moment he transmigrated, he’d focus solely on his career and avoid emotional entanglements altogether. If someone tried to force or seduce him again… maybe he’d report them, press charges? Give them a good beating? Murder seemed a bit too much…
Sigh, still a dead loop. Every one of them was a d*mned entanglement.
For now, he could only take things one step at a time. First deal with the pressing issues of the Seven Kill Camp and the Void Sect. Everything else could wait.
Su Yan selectively explained the events of last night. Since he’d kept the emperor in the dark about Ah Zhui’s origins, he couldn’t mention the blood-red eyes or the drugging—so he simply said his guards had arrived in time, rescued him from the assassins of the Seven Kill Camp, and brought him safely back to the capital.
The emperor mused for a moment and asked, “Which guard was it? The martial artist you recruited from the jianghu? The one who got into a jealous brawl at Plum Immortal Spring?”
Su Yan steeled himself. No matter what, he was determined to protect the lives of those two scoundrels. He replied, “The guard was simply fulfilling his duty. Your Majesty’s status is too exalted to speak of ‘jealous quarrels’ like common folk—such words are… unbecoming.”
The emperor was in the middle of draping an outer robe over him. At this, he slapped Su Yan on the butt. “Insolence! If I weren’t being proper, I’d be undressing you right now, not dressing you.”
The wound on Su Yan’s rear was jostled, and he winced in pain, quickly tying his sash and laughing nervously. “Yes, yes, I misspoke. Your Majesty is very proper—and considerate.”
The emperor rubbed his lower back over the robe, his breath growing heavier. “Besides your shoulder, where else are you hurt?”
Su Yan wouldn’t admit it even under threat of death. He shook his head repeatedly. “No other injuries. I’m fine.”
“You’ve only had medicine on your upper body. Let me check your lower half as well?”
If he checks, someone’s head might roll! Su Yan clutched his waistband tightly. “I’m terrified! I’m ashamed! I beg Your Majesty to spare me and rescind the order!”
“Is it shyness, or fear?”
“Both—both!”
“Fine, I won’t force you.” The emperor gently lifted his chin with a finger. “Did your tongue get injured? Let me see.”
What a knowingly fake question. How could he have talked so much with an injured tongue? Su Yan understood the emperor’s intention, and helplessly opened his mouth, sticking out the tip of his tongue.
It was pale pink, small and delicate, glistening with moisture. The emperor, satisfied, took it into his mouth.
After a long while, Su Yan was breathless and clung unsteadily to the emperor’s robe. The emperor wrapped an arm around his waist and another around the back of his head, asking again, “Are you hungry? I have food here.”
Su Yan remembered the last time he received the Emperor’s “grace” and felt his knees go weak, reasonably suspecting there was a hidden meaning in the Emperor’s words. He hurriedly said, “Your Majesty, I’m not hungry. Thank you for your kindness. I… I feel a bit dizzy, perhaps due to blood loss from the earlier wound…”
The Emperor smiled tolerantly. “Then we’ll leave the meal for next time. I’ll take you back to your residence to rest.”
———
