After many years, Liu Yuanxun stepped once more into the Crown Prince’s Sleeping Palace.
The Crown Prince Hall had been renovated since then, and he had visited a few times afterward. But the memory of his last visit here was hardly a pleasant one, and with more than two years having passed without setting foot inside, it now struck him as profoundly unfamiliar.
The hall was chillingly cold. They had only hurriedly lit the underfloor heating upon hearing of his arrival, which had raised the temperature considerably from what it had been.
The Emperor had evidently given prior instructions. Just as Liu Yuanxun was about to kneel, Hong Fu hurried over to support him and began removing the cumbersome ornaments one by one. While attending to him, Hong Fu whispered softly, “Seventh Lord, the Emperor has been ill for several days now. Please take pity on him—don’t be angry anymore.”
Hong Fu cast a furtive glance toward the inner hall, lowering his voice even further. “The Emperor wasn’t feeling well and had said he wouldn’t eat. But when he heard you were coming, he changed his mind and insisted on having dinner. You’ve been ill these past days, and so has his appetite been poor. You finally have some time today—please keep him company and encourage him to eat more.”
Liu Yuanxun didn’t glance at him. He merely said flatly, “I understand.”
It was not that he curried favor only with Eunuch Feng. Hong Fu was simply too insincere—turning even three parts truth into seven parts falsehood in his mouth, with scarcely a word to be trusted. Over time, Liu Yuanxun had grown too weary to bother sifting truth from lies and simply brushed off his words as empty pleasantries.
Shed of his elaborate robes, Liu Yuanxun walked slowly forward. Rounding the screen, he saw a round table—and seated beside it, Liu Yuanze in a bright yellow single-layered garment.
So many years had passed, yet the room’s layout still faintly echoed the old Crown Prince Hall. Liu Yuanxun could almost see his childhood self lingering there endlessly, tugging at Liu Yuanze’s clothes and insisting on staying the night.
He had loved it here.
Here was the Crown Prince brother who held him close as he slept, and all manner of novel, captivating storybooks. He would read them while peppering questions, for in the eyes of a small child, the whole world brimmed with wonders.
Liu Yuanze never grew impatient. He was always gentle and patient. A flicker of stern authority might appear in his brows from time to time, only to dissolve into helpless fondness the next moment beneath his tearful gaze.
This old dwelling concealed countless cherished memories. Amid their sudden rush, Liu Yuanxun felt a sudden twinge in his nose.
…
They ate this meal in heavy silence.
Liu Yuanze said nothing, and neither did he. The young eunuchs who had served the dishes had withdrawn early, leaving just the two of them in the entire sleeping palace.
The food was tasteless. As Liu Yuanxun chewed mechanically, his thoughts were entirely consumed by Gu Lianzhao.
A few moments later, Liu Yuanze abruptly picked up a pair of chopsticks’ worth of silverfish and placed it in Liu Yuanxun’s dish. His voice was cold. “A grown man, thin as a rail—what kind of sight is that? Is there no food at the prince’s mansion?”
Liu Yuanxun froze for an instant, then lowered his head and ate it in silence.
He had no desire to see the Emperor—not out of loathing, but out of utter powerlessness.
Ever since he had stumbled upon certain secrets, Liu Yuanze had laid every matter bare before him.
The instant the facade of harmony shattered had brought a fleeting thrill of release. Yet as long as one still drew breath, the wreckage left in its wake demanded confrontation.
Their shared past might not have been untainted, but over a decade of daily companionship and standing by each other through mortal perils—how could no genuine bond have formed?
And yet an uncrossable gulf of blood feud lay between them. That sliver of true affection had become a thorn embedded deep in his heart: the more sincere the feeling, the more excruciating the wound. To continue as they were would only multiply the suffering.
There was no point in dragging out this meal any longer.
Liu Yuanxun set down his chopsticks and looked earnestly at Liu Yuanze. “Your Majesty, if I consummate my marriage with Gu Lianzhao, will you promote him to the position of Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander?”
Though their bond had changed, the way Liu Yuanxun spoke to Liu Yuanze never had. From childhood onward, whenever he wanted something from Liu Yuanze, he had always asked for it directly, without any circumlocution.
And in most cases, Liu Yuanze granted it.
But not this time. Liu Yuanze offered no immediate assent. Without even looking at Liu Yuanxun, he set down his chopsticks, took a sip of tea, and replied evenly, “This request—which is it? Something he asked of you, or something you’re presuming to demand on his behalf?”
Of course it was what Gu Lianzhao wanted.
But he could not say as much to the Emperor. “I’m deciding for him,” Liu Yuanxun replied.
Liu Yuanze let out a scornful chuckle. “After all these years, you still can’t lie. You might lavish him with gold and jewels, but beg an official post on his behalf? Isn’t peddling offices the very thing you despise most? He wants to climb the ranks, which means the current commander, Liu Xun, gets demoted. What? Has Liu Xun gotten in your way?”
Liu Yuanxun did not even know Liu Xun, nor did he intend to strip another man of his post for personal gain. Deep down, he knew Gu Lianzhao was still young and inexperienced. Even if he were elevated to commander, rivals would surely drag him down soon enough. All he wanted was to secure a safeguard for Gu Lianzhao—and to pave a path forward.
“I’m not asking for him to take the commander’s post right now. I just want you to make it happen: have Eunuch Feng become his godfather.”
With Eunuch Feng’s backing, it would not matter when Liu Xun stepped down, or whether Gu Lianzhao ever claimed the commander’s seat. No one would be able to shake his standing within the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
Among the eunuchs, taking godfathers was a common practice. Childless themselves, they sought those to handle their affairs after death. The current Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander, Liu Xun, was none other than the godson of the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Hong Fu.
In its founding, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had answered solely to the Emperor. But its members had roots in the world outside, with families and heirs of their own. Inevitably, they began to scheme for their own futures.
To impose oversight later on, the Guard was divided into Northern and Southern Pacification Divisions: the Northern handled cases, while the Southern supervised. Yet being one and the same, self-oversight inevitably obscured the truth from the Emperor’s eyes. Thus, the Eastern Depot was established to wield true regulatory authority.
Yet the Guard’s power extended outward, while the eunuchs’ stronghold lay in the inner palace. Far from clashing, the Eastern Depot eunuchs often enlisted the Guard’s aid for errands beyond the walls, making the two factions effectively kin. With oversight came power over appointments, so the Guard’s commanders were almost always godsons of the Eastern Depot Commander.
Eunuchs remained eunuchs, though. Folk outside the palace might fawn with cries of “Grandfather,” but they scorned them behind their backs.
That was why Liu Yuanxun had not originally planned for Gu Lianzhao to take a godfather. He had merely intended to seek a simple decree from the Emperor.
But Gu Mingyuan’s words had changed his mind.
True or false, they revealed one undeniable fact: weighed against the humiliation of disdain, Gu Lianzhao plainly prized tangible gains above all. He was the sort to stake everything and attach himself to every available power if it meant reaching higher.
Thus, in Gu Lianzhao’s eyes, a mere verbal promise—one hinging on the Emperor’s future fulfillment—likely paled beside an immediate patron and concrete advantages.
Once Liu Yuanxun was dead, Gu Lianzhao would be a ger without a single protector. Was he truly to send the man before the throne himself, demanding the Emperor honor a bargain?
But recognizing a godfather changed everything. Feng Huai’an was the preeminent eunuch—not quite tilting the court with his sway, but the foremost servant before the Emperor, and Hong Fu’s direct superior to boot. With his protection, even Hong Fu, overseer of the Imperial Prison, would have to show Gu Lianzhao some favor.
With Gu Lianzhao’s own talents, and such patronage to smooth the way ahead, he would inevitably rise to commander in time.
Liu Yuanxun had reasoned it all out clearly. But Liu Yuanze’s face darkened, and he nearly crushed the porcelain cup in his grip. He snarled, “He is your concubine! If he takes Feng Huai’an as godfather, what does that make Feng Huai’an to you? And to me?”
Liu Yuanxun blinked in surprise. “You said yourself he’s just a concubine. His ties to Eunuch Feng would concern me at most, and they certainly wouldn’t…”
“He is the son of a second-rank official—and his father still lives. You would have him come into the palace to recognize a godfather? Where does that leave Gu Mingyuan’s face?”
“If he has no care for his own face, why should I preserve it? Besides, Feng Huai’an has long served at Imperial Father’s side. Even Gu Mingyuan has to bow to him upon meeting. How could he not be worthy?”
“You’re just quibbling!”
“You’re the tyrannical one!”
As the voices inside rose sharply, Hong Fu came scurrying in and hastily poured tea for them. “Your Majesty, have some tea to soothe your throat. Seventh Lord, please calm yourself…”
His timing could not have been better. Liu Yuanze sneered and rounded on him. “Your Eastern Depot certainly knows how to play the game. You were tasked with supervising the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and instead you’ve forged a web of godfathers and godsons. What—Tianyong officialdom is some family reunion parlor for you lot?”
Hong Fu trembled in fright and immediately dropped to his knees, kowtowing furiously and crying his innocence. “This slave dares not! This slave dares not, Your Majesty!”
The Emperor was well aware of the ties between the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot, of course. But he paid them no mind.
If an emperor wished to wield a keen blade, the Guard could not be dismantled. Yet supervision paled beside the elegance of checks and balances. By propping up both the Eastern Depot and the Guard, one could equally elevate the Western Depot and the Internal Proctors Depot.
The true mechanism of oversight lay not in the Eastern Depot’s watch over the Guard, but among the three depots themselves: Eastern, Western, and Internal Proctors.
The Eastern and Western Depots had long vied for dominance over the Guard, while the Internal Proctors Depot monitored the officials with methods bloodier than the Guard’s own—and with authority surpassing both. With that shadow looming over their heads, the Emperor cared nothing for whatever links bound the Eastern Depot Commander and the Guard’s commander.
Being singled out for rebuke today was simply rotten luck—running afoul of the Emperor’s temper.
Liu Yuanxun might despise Hong Fu, but he had no wish to watch an old man smash his head bloody on the floor. As blood began to show on Hong Fu’s forehead, he reached out and steadied him. “Stop kowtowing!”
Liu Yuanze let out a cold laugh, his anger flaring. “Are you the Emperor, or am I? You presume to decide whether he kowtows?”
“Imperial Brother!” Liu Yuanxun finally relented. He gazed at Liu Yuanze with weary exhaustion and murmured, “What is it you truly want? What on earth are you thinking…?”
That long-forbidden form of address—”Imperial Brother”—stunned Liu Yuanze into stillness. He lifted his eyes to Liu Yuanxun, his throat bobbing twice. In the end, he said nothing, merely gesturing silently for Hong Fu to withdraw.
Since the question was out, Liu Yuanxun dropped all pretense. He sank slowly into his seat and rested his forehead in his hand. In a low voice, he said, “Imperial Brother, what exactly are you trying to do?”
What was he trying to do…?
Liu Yuanze had no answer.
His mother had been killed by Noble Consort Ling, and he was duty-bound to settle that score. Yet Liu Yuanxun’s kneeling had bought his life—and their more than a decade of brotherhood had not been feigned. Thus, when Liu Yuanxun offered his own life to atone for his mother’s death, he had permitted it and bestowed the incurable gu poison with his own hand.
But as the deadline drew inexorably near, he found he could not bear it. He had procured Gu Lianzhao and forced their consummation, all in a bid to preserve Liu Yuanxun’s life.
He did not want him to die.
Yet if Liu Yuanxun lived, Noble Consort Ling must die.
And if he executed her, Liu Yuanxun would never accept it.
That was the mother who had raised him bit by bit from his swaddling clothes. That was the mother who had boiled medicine with her own body and fed him with her blood-milk until he was three years old. Liu Yuanze bore the debt of kindness from the Late Empress who had given birth to and raised him—how could Liu Yuanxun be any different?
What did he want to do…?
He had countless times wished for Noble Consort Ling to “drop dead” in Shou Kang Palace, wished to return to being close brothers with Liu Yuanxun once more. But Liu Yuanxun was no fool. From the day he learned the truth, Noble Consort Ling had placed herself in an unassailable position.
She would not only refuse to die; she would trample over her own son’s life, carry her hands stained with endless blood, and die peacefully of old age in Shou Kang Palace.
This tangle of favor and debt was inseparable, impossible to untangle.
It was no wonder Liu Yuanxun always avoided it.
For even facing it head-on offered no answers.
Not even the Emperor could shoulder the sin of his birth mother’s unjust death. In the face of such an absolute dead end, to shrink from it was, in truth, another kind of cruelty.
Liu Yuanze couldn’t help a bitter laugh.
Liu Yuanxun might seem innocent and naive, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was far clearer-headed than Liu Yuanze himself. He had made his choice early on, and never once regretted it or clung to what-ifs. He simply accepted his fate in silence, enduring it from afar.
It was Liu Yuanze who, in a moment of unbearable reluctance, had let his emotions run free—and all it had done was create needless turmoil.
Liu Yuanze let out a long sigh, exhaustion heavy in his voice. “You’ve said all this just to plead for a reward for Gu Lianzhao, haven’t you? Zhen grants it. Zhen will have Hong Fu keep an eye on him. When he proves capable of serving as Commanding Officer, Zhen will summon him personally.”
“Consider it… Zhen’s final birthday gift to you.”
