Though many had anticipated that Prince Qin would not escape this calamity, none expected him to take his own life before the imperial decree was even issued. The Crown Prince, kneeling before the Palace of Heavenly Purity in a daze, collapsed in a dead faint upon hearing the news. The Emperor had only just managed to sit up when he fell back onto his couch. The testimonies intended to incriminate Prince Qin were temporarily shelved. Consequently, Zhang Taiyan was released from prison, but due to his advanced age, he fell bedridden with illness the moment he returned home.
A shroud of mourning hung over the capital, and the snow fell even more heavily than in days past.
The snow continued for several days. On his sickbed, the Emperor seemed to age decades in an instant. His gaze was fixed, drifting aimlessly toward the ceiling as if searching for something, yet finding nothing at all. Kang Fu knelt by his side, tears streaming down his old face, not daring to make a sound.
After a long silence, the Emperor finally spoke. "Call the Crown Prince in."
Kang Fu wiped his tears and moved to obey, but the Emperor hesitated for a long time before adding, "No, not the Crown Prince. Call Xin... Xin Yi." He murmured the name as if speaking to himself. "Xin Yi, good Xin Yi, Zhengsheng’s child. Bring him here. I wish to see him."
Kang Fu, who was already backing out of the room, froze. He bowed deeply and replied, "Understood." He exited the hall, closed the doors, and instructed the young eunuchs to keep a tight watch. He then hurried forward to where Bai Jiu stood in the snow, admiring the plum blossoms. "Your Lordship, His Majesty wishes to see the Young Prince."
Xin Yi was transcribing case files. He had idly written a few strokes, then crossed out the name "Prince Qin." To others, he appeared focused and upright, but in truth, he was lost in thought with his brush in hand.
A commotion arose outside; it seemed a decree had arrived from the palace. While Xin Yi was still immersed in his reflections, a pair of boots stopped before his desk. He looked up to see Zuo Kaizhi.
"There is a summons from the palace," Zuo Kaizhi said. "You should go."
In that moment, Xin Yi felt as though he had foreseen this, yet also as if he hadn't.
The palace paths were slippery, and Xin Yi walked slowly, step by step. The leading eunuch had likely received instructions and did not dare to rush him. It took nearly half an hour to reach the Palace of Heavenly Purity.
The Crown Prince had already been sent back to the Eastern Palace. The Palace of Heavenly Purity was so quiet it felt deserted. This was Xin Yi’s first time here. Standing before the vermilion pillars, he tucked his cold-nipped hands into his sleeves. He showed no fear of the Son of Heaven’s residence, following the guide inside without so much as a furrowed brow.
The interior was sweltering with heat. Layers upon layers of hanging curtains shrouded the bed, concealing it completely. Kang Fu lifted the veils, whispering to Xin Yi, "Young Prince, mind your step," while softly announcing to the interior, "Your Majesty, the Young Prince has arrived."
"Mm." The voice from the bed was heavy. As the final layer was pulled back, Xin Yi saw the Emperor’s aged and haggard form. He was leaning against the headboard with drooping eyelids, looking as though he were about to drift off. Only upon seeing Xin Yi did a spark of life return to him. "Come closer. Let me look at you."
Xin Yi stepped forward. The Emperor gazed at him with a mix of reminiscence and sorrow. Xin Yi lowered his eyes, submissively allowing the Emperor to scrutinize him. The hall fell into a profound silence until Kang Fu softly called out to the Emperor, who seemed to startle awake.
"You truly do look like Old Six." The Emperor’s withered palm reached out, resting on the crown of Xin Yi’s head and patting it gently. "Just like Old Six."
Xin Yi remained as still as a statue. To the Emperor, such a quiet, non-speaking child was a comfort. Only in silence were there no heart-piercing words, no acts of rebellion—only submissive obedience in every gesture.
"Being in the capital, you aren't much like Old Six at all," the Emperor rambled, as if talking to himself. "Old Six loved to cause a stir. Old Seven had a silver tongue. The two of them were inseparable, always getting along. The Crown Prince was already studying back then; he stayed by his tutor’s side and never made trouble. Old Four followed him everywhere; even if he couldn't understand the books, he insisted on tagging along. Only Old Five liked to compose sour poetry. His brothers wouldn't play with him, so he’d write poems cursing them one by one. He had ink in his belly, but he had malice too."
The Emperor suddenly stared at Xin Yi, his voice turning cold. "But Old Six... he had such audacity. So many people, yet he dared to take them all in. He kept them in Beiyang as his soldiers, making them fight for him. The Crown Prince tried to advise him, but he wouldn't listen, running wild with Old Seven." His expression suddenly shifted to one of grief, his voice cracking. "He was so young when he was left on the battlefield. That savage land of Dayuan... let him run wild there, for he can never come back." He leaned forward, his dry hands gripping Xin Yi’s shoulders, his eyes dark and predatory. "Old Seven was a good child; he raised you for him. But you must not learn from them, especially not from your father. Do you understand? Do you understand?"
The Emperor’s grip on his shoulders was painful. Xin Yi looked up, his features a mask of lowliness and obedience. Yet the hands hidden in his sleeves were clenched even tighter. For every ounce of loathing and resistance churning in his chest, he allowed an equal measure of trepidation and terror to show on his face. Seeing his fear, the madness in the Emperor’s eyes gradually receded, replaced by a flicker of gratification and a faint smile.
"Kang Fu." The Emperor leaned back wearily. "Take the Young Prince out. It is cold; give him a mink cloak before he leaves." He added heavily, "Come back at this time tomorrow. I wish to speak with you again."
Kang Fu led Xin Yi out. He noticed that the moment the Young Prince turned to leave the hall, the terror on his face vanished without a trace. When those clear, bright eyes looked up again, they were filled with tranquility, possessing a truly refined, jade-like quality.
On the path, Kang Fu bowed to Xin Yi and guided him. "This way, Young Prince. His Lordship is waiting to return to the manor with you."
Xin Yi’s eyes lit up, and his pace quickened. Rounding a gate, he indeed saw Bai Jiu standing in the snow in a dark cloak, having waited for a long time. Xin Yi bypassed Kang Fu entirely and ran across the snow toward him.
"My Lord." He pursed his lips, showing a hint of childish grievance.
Bai Jiu, with one hand behind his back, smiled upon seeing him. "Like a puppy that smelled meat." Xin Yi’s face flushed. Bai Jiu glanced at Kang Fu, who immediately bowed and retreated to a distance. "Were you wronged?"
Xin Yi tugged at the mink cloak he was wearing. "This is uncomfortable to wear."
Bai Jiu reached out and took his hand. "Then we shall take it off once we leave the gates."
Noticing that Bai Jiu kept one hand behind his back, Xin Yi asked curiously, "What are you holding?"
Bai Jiu’s narrow eyes crinkled with a smile. "Guess."
"Most likely something from the palace." Before Xin Yi could finish, the hand swung around. Between his fingers was a delicate, budding plum branch, which he pressed into Xin Yi’s hand.
Xin Yi immediately looked left and right nervously. Bai Jiu tapped his forehead. "Acting like a thief."
Xin Yi held the plum branch, his face red. "Where did you pick this?"
Bai Jiu led him toward the exit. "Just picked it in passing."
In the distance, Kang Fu covered his eyes with his sleeve, thinking to himself, *Oh dear, this Young Prince is truly easy to coax.* There was no place in the palace where the plums bloomed better than in front of the Palace of Heavenly Purity. To casually pluck a plum tree planted by the Emperor himself just to amuse a child—it was enough to make one worry. But then he reconsidered; who could possibly control Lord Pingding?
Once they were in the carriage outside the palace gates, Xin Yi shed the mink cloak and changed back into his own. He held his plum branch the entire time, terrified of knocking off a single bud. Bai Jiu sat beside him, clutching a hand warmer and staring at him, which made Xin Yi feel self-conscious.
"People say one should put on weight for the winter, so why have you grown thinner?" Bai Jiu reached out to feel Xin Yi’s waist. "I'll have the kitchen stew some soup tonight."
"Winter clothes are thick," Xin Yi said, sitting beside him. "If I get any fatter, I'll turn into a ball. If I trip, I'll just roll to the bottom, and no one will even need to help me up."
Bai Jiu laughed and leaned in. "That would be convenient. You could roll around nicely on the bed too." Xin Yi immediately raised a fist to cover his nose, his earlobes turning bright red. Bai Jiu let out a laugh. "This shyness of yours is never going to get better." He pressed Xin Yi’s head down, letting him lean against his shoulder. "Since you have some free time today, go home and rest."
Leaning against his shoulder, Xin Yi murmured, "Going home."
The carriage wheels turned rapidly. Bai Jiu’s palm stroked his hair. "Were you afraid today?"
"No," Xin Yi replied.
Bai Jiu smiled again. "You've grown."
Xin Yi smiled back. The hand held by Bai Jiu was warm and comfortable, and it wasn't let go.
Prince Qin was not buried with the full rites of a Prince of the First Rank, but his end was not as hasty as Prince Ping’s. The Emperor still granted him a measure of dignity, whether to comfort himself or to mourn the father-son bond. His suspicion toward the Crown Prince also gradually faded under the blow of Prince Qin’s death. Before anyone could react, Xin Yi suddenly gained the Emperor’s favor, entering the palace daily to accompany him by his sickbed.
Zhang Taiyan was seriously ill, yet he managed to hold his ground in the imperial court. No one dared to openly oppose the sudden favor shown to the Heir of Prince Yan. The Leftist faction had suffered a blow to their vitality, and Bai Jiu naturally remained silent. For a time, Xin Yi was like a rising star in the capital. Under the sharpening of Zuo Kaizhi—that keen blade of the Court of Judicial Review—his cold brilliance became increasingly apparent. Yet, he grew more refined and elegant in manner, leaving no room for anyone to find fault.
The Crown Prince seemed immersed in grief over Prince Qin’s passing, voluntarily relinquishing control over a portion of the Capital Guard. However, seeing him look so haggard after only half a month, the Emperor was moved by their kinship and told him to keep his command, even entrusting him with many of the capital's administrative affairs.
In the blink of an eye, the year drew to a close, and the weather grew even colder. Only Xin Yi was still investigating the gunpowder case. Prince Tang’s words had planted seeds of doubt in him, making him increasingly wary of the Crown Prince. He instinctively felt that the cause of Prince Qin’s death was suspicious and that there was more to the case. Zuo Kaizhi shared these views; thus, while they had officially closed the files on the surface, they were still searching meticulously in secret. Bai Jiu knew what they were up to but let him be.
While things were going smoothly for Xin Yi, Xie Jingsheng had hit a brick wall. As the day of his departure from the capital drew near, he found himself unable to see He Anchang no matter what he did. He couldn't even corner the man. In his frustration, he used Xiao Jin for practice every day. The two of them held a snowman-building competition in the Pingding Manor, but because a snowball broke one of Bai Jiu’s windows, they were chased out by Chichi the whole way.
Xie Jingsheng shivered in the heavy snow, feeling increasingly pathetic. He finally decided to scale the walls of the He residence. This climb led him straight to He Anchang’s room, but the man was still nowhere to be found.
He Anchang’s room was orderly and cold. Xie Jingsheng rolled around on the bed, feeling as though the hardness of it was making his bones ache. He hugged the other man’s pillow and lingered on the bed, closing his eyes to indulge in his fantasies for a long while. Before he could even get comfortable, the door was pushed open. Clutching the pillow, Xie Jingsheng rolled under the bed.
He watched a pair of boots stop before the screen to change out of an outer robe, then move to the table to drink tea, and finally shift to the edge of the bed to sit down.
Xie Jingsheng held his breath, staring at those long, straight legs and swallowing hard. He listened for a long time, only to hear He Anchang let out a long sigh and collapse onto the bed. The bed was hard enough to knock someone unconscious; falling onto it like that made Xie Jingsheng’s own flesh ache in sympathy. However, He Anchang seemed off today; he hadn't even taken off his boots, lying sprawled on the bed without moving.
Under the bed, Xie Jingsheng’s waist was beginning to ache from the cramped position. Then he heard He Anchang’s cold voice. "Come out."
He poked his head out from the edge of the bed to see He Anchang lying on his back, motionless, turning his gaze toward him. Xie Jingsheng gave an eager smile and raised his hands. "I hadn't even done anything yet when you came back."
He Anchang didn't speak, only watched him.
Xie Jingsheng rubbed his nose and asked while sitting on the floor, "What’s wrong?"
He Anchang withdrew his gaze and rolled over to face away from him. "Nothing."
Xie Jingsheng had already sensed that something was indeed wrong today, so he wasn't about to be dismissed by the word "nothing." He cautiously scooted his backside onto the edge of the bed, leaning in slightly. "Want to talk?"
He Anchang’s profile was cold. He said, "Give me back my pillow."
Xie Jingsheng obediently held it up with both hands like an offering, nearly placing it under the man's head himself.
"My lord," Xie Jingsheng said with a smile. "Who bullied you to make you this unhappy?" No one answered him, but he didn't mind. "I've heard that bottling things up for too long causes internal injuries. You're so young, what could be so hard to say? Or what, did your little widow run off with someone else?"
The pillow was hurled straight at his face. Xie Jingsheng caught it squarely, hugged it to his chest, and took a deep sniff. He raised an eyebrow shamelessly at He Anchang. "Throwing yourself into my arms? I quite like this scent." He Anchang glared at him, and he immediately lost his bravado. He leaned over and whispered very tenderly, "Ruxu, Ruxu, talk to me."
"Are you trying to summon my soul?" He Anchang shot him a glance.
Xie Jingsheng repeated the name a few more times. Seeing that the other man’s expression had softened slightly, he said, "I'm calling for you."
He Anchang suddenly sat up and said to him, "Get up here."
Xie Jingsheng froze. "Huh?"
"Get up here." He Anchang’s cold face tilted up slightly, his eyes equally frigid.
Xie Jingsheng kicked off his boots and cautiously pressed closer to him, saying, "Is this some new way to—"
Cold hands unexpectedly wrapped around his shoulders. This snow-white man lunged forward, pinning him down onto the bed. Because the movement was clumsy and heavy, they nearly rolled off the bed together. Xie Jingsheng’s eyes and hands were quick; he caught the man and raised a leg to block the edge of the bed, though his face was still filled with shock and confusion.
"He Anchang." Xie Jingsheng suddenly lifted the hand that was resting on the man's waist, refraining from touching him. "If you have something to say, say it properly. Don't get physical." Before he could finish, he gritted his teeth, his Adam's apple bobbing. He managed to say in a strained, hoarse voice, "What are you doing?"
He Anchang was straddling his waist. Looking up from this angle, Xie Jingsheng found that his "lord" was even more damnably cold and alluring.
"What do *you* want to do?" He Anchang grabbed the pillow and muffled Xie Jingsheng’s face with it. "Don't move!"
Xie Jingsheng let out a muffled groan. He reached up to seize the man's waist and let out a few raspy laughs, sounding both pained and restrained. "You're the one who should stop moving first!"
He Anchang looked down at him and asked, "How did Prince Qin die?"
Xie Jingsheng closed his eyes, suppressing the sensation of the firm skin beneath his palms. "How... how should I know!"
He Anchang said coldly, "Open your eyes and say it."
Xie Jingsheng opened his eyes, staring at him with a hint of ferocity. "I—bah, how should I know!" Seeing He Anchang’s solemn gaze, a heat flared in his gut instead. He surged upward, suddenly pinning the man back against the edge of the bed. "Is this how you interrogate someone?"
The snowy-white neck was right before his eyes. Dazzled, Xie Jingsheng held back, then leaned down to give the side of the neck a fierce, light peck before quickly letting go and retreating to the side. He scrambled to put on his boots, muttering, "If you dare use this method on anyone else, you're dead! He Anchang! He Ruxu! I'm going to worry myself to death, ah!" He gritted his teeth as he yanked on his boots. "I really hate you!"
However, he heard a laugh from behind him. Xie Jingsheng’s words caught in his throat, and he whipped his head around. That fair-skinned, cold, heartless, and recklessly alluring He Ruxu was lying within arm's reach, laughing until his cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were shimmering. It was a heavy blow to Xie Jingsheng’s chest. He clutched his heart, desperately pulling at the reins of his sanity, thinking to himself:
*As expected of my heart's desire. He looks too good when he laughs.*
***
