Chapter 7: Getting Closer
As the sun began to rise, rays of light filtered into the bedchamber.
Wen Ning’an opened his eyes and saw that Feng Qi was not yet awake, lying quietly beside him. His upturned phoenix eyes were now tightly closed, and the malicious smile that usually lurked at the corners of his lips was gone. His arrogant and domineering demeanor had also vanished. At this moment, Feng Qi was no different from an ordinary person.
Wen Ning’an smiled and couldn’t resist reaching out to caress Feng Qi’s well-defined features, only to see Feng Qi’s lips slowly curve upwards.
“Good morning, Yixin.”
Wen Ning’an was a little embarrassed and abruptly withdrew his hand, looking away.
Feng Qi chuckled, took Wen Ning’an’s hand, and placed it back on his own leg. “We agreed today, we’re going to the capital to eat delicious food.”
“It’s not all about eating.”
Wen Ning’an turned his head away awkwardly. He wasn’t that gluttonous, to have to make a special trip to the capital just to eat his way through the streets and alleys.
Feng Qi laughed softly and pulled Wen Ning’an up to get dressed.
“Look, I had the embroidery workshop make this especially for you.” Feng Qi gestured for a maid to bring over a tray, on which lay a neatly folded white robe. Since they were going out of the palace today, the robe Feng Qi had prepared for Wen Ning’an, though made from the finest fabric and silk—a white satin brocade with a subtle pattern—was merely handsome, not eye-catching. After all, there were many sons of wealthy families on the streets.
“I know you like white. I’ve never seen you wear any other color, so I specifically instructed the embroidery workshop to use white silk.” Feng Qi picked up the clothes and made a gesture as if to dress Wen Ning’an.
Wen Ning’an instinctively dodged.
Feng Qi’s face fell. He said in a low voice, “Yixin, are you afraid of me?”
“No.”
An oppressive silence fell again, and the atmosphere grew stiff.
After a long while, Feng Qi took a deep breath and smiled. “Yixin, don’t be afraid. I’m not a scoundrel; I won’t take the opportunity to take advantage of you.”
It was a rather stiff joke.
Wen Ning’an was stunned. Seeing Feng Qi’s somewhat anxious expression, he lowered his head and slowly untied his own belt.
“Thank you.”
Feng Qi reached out and removed Wen Ning’an’s outer robe. Wen Ning’an, now wearing only a thin inner garment, looked a little flustered and didn’t dare to meet Feng Qi’s gaze. Thus, he didn’t notice the darkening of Feng Qi’s eyes.
The white inner robe was loose. Feng Qi was taller than Wen Ning’an, and by looking down, he could see a glimpse of the spring scenery on Wen Ning’an’s chest. Having spent years on the battlefield, Wen Ning’an’s skin was not as fair as a woman’s or a scholar’s, but a healthy, light wheat color. Looking further down, Wen Ning’an’s figure was tall and lean, with perfect lines, especially his waist—firm and powerful…
Seeing Feng Qi standing before him without moving, Wen Ning’an looked up in confusion.
Wen Ning’an’s features were gentle and refined. His eyelashes were as long as fans, and a crimson tear mole beneath his eye added a touch of allure and brilliance to his placid, lake-like face.
Feng Qi was not a man with a strong libido. His harem was filled with charming and seductive women, as well as dignified and elegant ladies from noble families, but he had no interest in any of them. Perhaps it was because ever since he had first been with Wen Ning’an on the night of his coronation, no matter which woman he was with afterwards, Wen Ning’an’s every move and his face would echo in his mind like a curse before they even began. He would even uncontrollably recall the vague sensations of that night, so he had simply stopped having sexual relations altogether.
But now, looking at Wen Ning’an’s clueless expression, Feng Qi suddenly wanted to see those indifferent eyes stained with lust, wanted Wen Ning’an to cast aside his aloofness and elegance, to go wild and cry beneath him, to offer himself completely to him…
“Your Majesty!” Wen Ning’an abruptly slapped Feng Qi’s hand away.
Feng Qi came back to his senses, only then realizing that his hand had just involuntarily caressed Wen Ning’an’s chest.
“Your Majesty, forgive me. I… I’ll do it myself.” Wen Ning’an took the clothes and quickly left the bedchamber, leaving Feng Qi standing alone by the bed, staring at his own hand in silence.
Perhaps it’s time…
To go look at some male-male erotic art.
In the morning, Kailuo Street on the east side of the capital was deserted, but the list Qin Zhaohuang had given Feng Qi said this was the place.
“There it is.”
Feng Qi pointed to a small stall in a corner of Kailuo Street. It was a wonton stall. An old couple was busy; the man was arranging tables and chairs, while the woman was boiling wontons. The surroundings were quiet, but the old couple had smiles on their faces, each busy with their own tasks, waiting for customers.
Feng Qi pulled Wen Ning’an to sit at one of the wooden tables.
“Two bowls of wontons!”
The old man smiled at his wife. “Alright! Old dear, these two young masters are the first to have our wontons today. Give them a few extra!”
“Of course!”
The steaming hot wontons were served quickly. Feng Qi took a bite and exclaimed, “This is excellent.”
Seeing Feng Qi looking as if he had discovered a new continent, Wen Ning’an said, “Is this Your Majesty’s first time eating longchaoshou?”
[Translator’s Notes: Longchaoshou : A famous Sichuan-style wonton dish. “Chaoshou” , which literally means “folded arms,” is the Sichuan dialect name for wontons. The “Long” (dragon) part comes from the name of the teahouse where it was first popularized.]
The surroundings were simple, with a thin layer of dust on the benches, and the bowls and chopsticks were not the imperial kind. All of this seemed out of place with Feng Qi, yet here he was, sitting here, eating with Wen Ning’an. Wen Ning’an felt a warmth spread through his heart.
He had specially brought him out of the palace to a place of the common people to eat something he loved. He understood Feng Qi’s intentions.
But he wouldn’t point it out.
“Your Majesty?” On the other end, Feng Qi heard this grating title and couldn’t help but curve his lips.
“…”
“Huaitian,” Feng Qi said. “Call me that.”
[Translator’s Notes: Huaitian (怀天): Feng Qi’s courtesy name (zì). It literally means “to embrace Heaven/the world.”]
Huaitian was Feng Qi’s courtesy name, bestowed upon him by the late Emperor when he came of age. The ministers thought it was taken from the phrase “to have the world in one’s heart,” but in reality, it meant “to embrace the world.” The late Emperor had never taught Feng Qi to be considerate of the people; he had only taught him how to make the people obey, to conquer them, to conquer the world.
Wen Ning’an was silent.
He would not dare to casually call the Son of Heaven by his personal name.
Feng Qi originally wanted to darken his face and command Wen Ning’an to obey him as usual, but he immediately suppressed the urge. Instead, he put on a relaxed smile and said, “Yixin, ‘Husband’ or ‘Huaitian,’ pick one.”
Wen Ning’an’s eyes widened.
“Not talking? Then I’ll take it that you’ve chosen ‘Husband.’ Since you’ll be calling me Husband, then I’ll call you Wife. What do you say, Wife?”
“Huaitian, don’t—don’t joke around!”
Feng Qi smiled faintly.
“I’m not joking, I’m not. The wontons are getting cold. Hurry up and eat.”
After the two of them had a bowl of wontons to warm their stomachs, Feng Qi walked side by side with Wen Ning’an along the increasingly lively street. Following the list, Feng Qi took Wen Ning’an to buy special candied hawthorns, grilled skewers, cold skin rolls, and chili oil snails, and they also went to eat stewed noodles.
They walked and stopped, browsing some shops, and in the blink of an eye, it was noon, and the sun began to grow harsh.
The sound of a gong came from not far away. Wen Ning’an listened for a moment and said, “Someone has hired an opera troupe to perform up ahead.”
The two followed the sound and saw that the one who had hired the troupe was Ruifu Tower. The actors were singing on a temporary stage set up in front of the building. Judging by the banner, it seemed to be a birthday performance for the owner’s old mother.
A crowd gradually gathered around the stage, with children pushing to get a better view. Ruifu Tower’s business was better than ever. Feng Qi and Wen Ning’an paid some silver and went to a private room on the second floor of Ruifu Tower to watch the excitement through the window.
After the birthday performance, the opera troupe began to sing songs requested by the crowd. The next one was “The Qin Fairy.”
After listening for a short while, Feng Qi let out a “pfft” of laughter.
“Yixin, this song actually has a real story behind it.”
“Oh?”
Feng Qi said, “It is said that when the National Preceptor, Qin Zhaohuang, was traveling in Nanxiang, he took a painted boat to tour a lake. A scholar on the opposite shore was so stunned by the sight that he wrote this song. It’s said that the scholar even fell lovesick because of it. The poor man didn’t find out until much later that the beauty he longed for was a man.”
Wen Ning’an raised an eyebrow.
Qin Zhaohuang?
“Yixin should have met him. The one you saved in the dark alley that day was Qin Zhaohuang. He even told your fortune. You should have an impression.”
Wen Ning’an frowned and asked, “How… how did Huaitian know that I had met Qin Zhaohuang before?”
Feng Qi froze, then fell silent.
Feng Qi had no defenses against Wen Ning’an and was rather impulsive, so the consequence of speaking without thinking was… he had let it slip.
“You had someone follow me?”
…
Wen Ning’an sighed.
The waiter began to serve the dishes. Wen Ning’an didn’t seem to plan on pursuing the matter of why Feng Qi had sent someone to follow him. He just changed the subject. “Are you very familiar with Qin Zhaohuang? Is your relationship very good?”
Qin Zhaohuang is so handsome, loved by all who see him. Feng Qi must like him too…
“That face of his is indeed devilishly beautiful,” Feng Qi said, placing a piece of thigh meat into Wen Ning’an’s bowl. “But I prefer Yixin’s comforting kind of looks.”
Wen Ning’an lowered his head and smiled faintly.
Watching the actors below, a sudden idea struck Feng Qi.
“Yixin, I have an idea.”
Wen Ning’an looked up at Feng Qi, waiting for him to continue.
“Why don’t you open an opera house? There are many opera troupes in the capital, but opera houses… I read Lord Li’s inspection report before, and I don’t recall there being many. Even if there are, they are already in decline. Why don’t you give it a try?”
An opera house?
Wen Ning’an said, “The men under my command are all rough men who have fought on the battlefield. They know nothing about managing an opera house. Opening an opera house seems to require a lot of attention and management, and there are many rules to know. I don’t really understand them either…”
“Qin Zhaohuang. National Preceptor is just an empty title. It’s said to be for praying for the Emperor and the world, but I don’t think he has much to do.”
Wen Ning’an was taken aback. “That would be too much trouble for the National Preceptor…”
“No trouble,” Feng Qi said without any hesitation. “Just have him come over and lend you a hand. He’s very free anyway.”
Wen Ning’an thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded.
On the other side, Qin Zhaohuang, who was making a star chart in the Fengtian Temple, suddenly sneezed.
“National Preceptor Qin, what’s wrong?” a colleague from the temple beside him asked, looking at the bright sun outside in surprise.
“It’s nothing,” Qin Zhaohuang waved his hand. “Someone is probably talking behind my back.”
