Chapter 3: The So-called Bitter Fruit

Chapter 3: The So-called Bitter Fruit

Xiao Han felt as though he had been in a long dream, and upon waking, he was still unsure which was the dream and which was reality.

Only after staring at the bright yellow embroidered golden dragon canopy above the bed for a long time did he suddenly sit up, looking around. He saw a celadon incense table, a gold-lacquered screen, and a pair of embroidered golden dragon boots on the footrest by the bed. A few steps away, a hollowed-out warming stove emitted a wisp of smoke—all exquisitely crafted and luxuriously antique.

It seemed his movements had alerted someone, as a young man immediately entered the room with quick, respectful steps. He stopped in front of the screen and asked in a soft, ingratiating voice, "Has Your Majesty awoken? The top scholar has been waiting in the East Warm Pavilion for some time now."

This Xian Fu was the chief eunuch serving Emperor Qing, having attended him since childhood. Emperor Qing was shrewd and unpredictable, and Xian Fu could grasp a third of his intentions, making him one of his most trusted confidants. Seeing the Emperor sitting silently on the dragon bed, Xian Fu sighed to himself, thinking that the top scholar's nightly favor with the Emperor was likely nearing its end. Everyone knew the Emperor was cold-hearted, and his affections came and went quickly. It was a pity the top scholar's deep devotion to the Emperor was destined to be in vain. At that moment, the scholar was still waiting in the East Warm Pavilion, eagerly hoping for the Emperor's summons.

Xian Fu stood hunched over, waiting silently, until finally, some movement came from behind the sandalwood screen on the dragon bed.

"Let him... keep waiting," Emperor Qing spoke slowly, his voice sounding huskier and deeper than usual. To Xian Fu, it sounded even colder, with a hint of anger.

The chief eunuch's heart skipped a beat, and his face tightened instantly. The Emperor's anger was one thing, but not knowing its source was another.

"Fetch... me a cup of water."

Xian Fu, already on edge, immediately complied, pouring the tea and respectfully presenting it. Although the Emperor's words sounded a bit off, with a noticeable pause when referring to himself, Xian Fu didn't dwell on it, given the Emperor's imposing presence.

Emperor Qing disliked attendants being too close to him, so after delivering the tea, Xian Fu respectfully retreated behind the screen.

It was winter, and the tea was warm but not too hot. The tea leaves were Lotus Snow Needles, a tribute from a small southwestern country, with a fresh aroma. Emperor Qing took a sip, but the warm tea couldn't melt the frost on his face.

He sipped the tea for a long time, and Xian Fu grew increasingly uncertain of the Emperor's thoughts. He couldn't help but glance up slightly, only to suddenly meet the Emperor's dark, heavy gaze. Xian Fu's heart pounded, and his knees nearly gave way.

"Xian Fu," Emperor Qing set the teacup aside, which quickly turned cold, much like his tone. "Let him come in and serve."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Xian Fu bowed and retreated, only breathing a sigh of relief after closing the door and walking several steps away. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and hurried into the East Warm Pavilion.

Perhaps because he had been eagerly waiting for so long, the top scholar's steps were light and cheerful, and the sound of his feet crunching on the snow seemed almost melodious.

As he approached the Evergreen Hall where Emperor Qing resided, he quietly tugged at Xian Fu's sleeve and cautiously whispered, "Eunuch Xian, how is His Majesty's mood tonight?"

Xian Fu's mouth felt a bit bitter, and he replied helplessly, "Sir, His Majesty has never liked his servants speculating about his intentions. You're putting me in a difficult position. You are in His Majesty's favor, so there's no need to worry, but... please be careful in your service."

The top scholar was taken aback and quickly thanked the eunuch for the advice.

Whether it was by Emperor Qing's specific order or not, the Evergreen Hall was dimly lit that night, creating a somewhat gloomy atmosphere.

The warming stove in the bedchamber was burning fiercely, and when the door opened, a gust of cold air slipped in but was quickly dispersed by the warmth. The top scholar removed his heavy fur cloak, revealing the dark purple official robe underneath, which made his figure appear even more slender and frail.

He walked with his head bowed to the screen in front of the dragon bed, knelt down, and paid his respects with full etiquette, exuding the shy and delicate demeanor of a scholar.

Emperor Qing reclined on the bed, eyes closed, and had not acknowledged the man since he entered the hall. Only now did he open his eyes and glance at the person kneeling before him.

"Look up," the voice was calm but carried a heavy authority.

The moment the man raised his head and stood up, he couldn't help but glance at the dragon bed. The bed was draped with light gauze, but he could still vaguely make out the Emperor's face—broad forehead, straight nose, sharp eyebrows, and thin lips, with a cold, stern profile like frost. It was the same face he had seen when Emperor Qing had gone on a royal tour, sitting high on the grand dragon carriage, receiving the worship of his subjects, exuding unparalleled nobility and majesty.

He had been in the crowded crowd that day, catching a distant glimpse of Emperor Qing, and since then, he had been haunted by the memory, as if under a spell.

The faint light from the warming stove cast a subtle blush on his face.

The moment Emperor Qing saw his face clearly, his pupils contracted sharply—the top scholar bore the unmistakable face of Zhuo Fan! Although his demeanor was different from his past life, his appearance was instantly recognizable.

Emperor Qing, the ruler of the Qing Kingdom, bore the royal surname Xiao. The late Emperor had bestowed the name "Han" upon his eldest son, which was Emperor Qing's given name—Xiao Han.

And the top scholar kneeling before him was none other than Zhuo Fan, the top candidate in the imperial examination, whom Emperor Qing had singled out at the Golden Hall.

Zhuo Fan was strikingly handsome and had a scholarly air. Emperor Qing, who had a preference for male beauty, was accustomed to the flattering and fawning courtesans in the harem. However, Zhuo Fan's delicate demeanor and the subtle admiration in his eyes caught the Emperor's attention.

It was like craving something exotic after a diet of luxury. Emperor Qing effortlessly brought the new top scholar to his bed, granting nightly attention. Zhuo Fan, who already admired the Emperor, became completely infatuated due to his manipulations, lost in the dream of love with his beloved, completely forgetting the true nature of Emperor Qing—a capricious and unfaithful ruler.

Unknown to him, everyone favored by Emperor Qing in the harem had once thought they were special, different from others, foolishly believing the Emperor would change for them, transforming from a philandering sovereign into a devoted lover.

Could anything be more predictable?

Growing long hair and believing you're a maiden? These days, princess syndrome is everywhere!

Xiao Han's face was as dark as Arctic ice. He had believed that defying the script would only lead to death, but he never imagined something worse than death—eternal bondage!

Though he had changed identities and plots, that cursed trope of the scumbag and the fool always loomed ahead, waiting for him to step into it.

Was the price of defying the script an endless entanglement with this guy? At this thought, Xiao Han's ashen face slowly paled.

"Your Majesty?" Zhuo Fan stayed kneeling, sensing something odd in Emperor Qing's gaze through the curtain. He felt slightly uneasy. Earlier, Eunuch Xian had warned him to be cautious, probably knowing the Emperor was in a bad mood.

"...You, rise." Emperor Qing's voice was cold and emotionless.

Zhuo Fan, however, appeared used to it. He slowly stood up. The recent attention had made him bold, and Emperor Qing had tolerated his occasional oversteps. So, the command seemed like a subtle hint. Zhuo Fan stepped forward, leaning in slightly. Seeing no reaction, he felt encouraged and cautiously approached the bed, lifting the veil.

Emperor Qing was flawlessly dressed in a dark golden robe, his outer garment perfectly arranged. He sat by the bedhead, looking up at Zhuo Fan with sharp, knife-like eyes.

Zhuo Fan instinctively looked away, bowing his head. "Your Majesty, may this humble servant undress you?"

Emperor Qing stayed silent, neither agreeing nor refusing. To Zhuo Fan, this was tacit approval.

Summoning courage, Zhuo Fan climbed onto the bed, placing his hands on the Emperor's chest. Just as he was about to undo the robe, his wrist was seized. Looking up, he saw Emperor Qing with closed eyes, not looking at him, and commanded, "Undress yourself." Then, he quickly released his hand.

Somewhat puzzled, Zhuo Fan nodded slightly and began unbuttoning his official robe. He didn't stop even when down to his undergarments, blushing as he removed the last piece of clothing, kneeling naked beside Emperor Qing.

Despite the nightly intimacies, Zhuo Fan was still shy. Previously, Emperor Qing had been the one to initiate and caress. Now, with no sign of initiative from the Emperor, Zhuo Fan felt at a loss, unsure where to place his hands.

After a moment of hesitation, Xiao Han still showed no reaction. Zhuo Fan gritted his teeth, leaned in, and kissed the Emperor's lips.

However, Xiao Han frowned and instinctively turned his head, so the kiss landed on his cheek. Zhuo Fan looked hurt, kneeling there innocently, no longer attempting to kiss but instead moving his head lower, gently kissing through the robe.

Thinking of the script's nonsense, Xiao Han felt no joy but knew he couldn't escape tonight unless he changed the plot again. But he had already seen the dire consequences of that. Nothing was more frustrating than this!

—At least until he figured out how to deal with the script, he would follow it for now.

Though he felt no love for Zhuo Fan, his body still responded under such ministrations. Xiao Han closed his eyes, avoiding the sight of the face below. Soon, he felt his robe lifted, his undergarments undone, and his erect member springing out.

Zhuo Fan carefully held it, his face flushed. Before lowering his head, he glanced up at Emperor Qing, who still had his eyes closed, not looking at him. Zhuo Fan felt both disappointed and relieved.

Xiao Han maintained his expressionless demeanor until he was about to release into Zhuo Fan's mouth, his breathing becoming heavier. He frowned and opened his eyes, startling Zhuo Fan, who was about to sit down.

His gaze fell on the slightly raised object exposed before him. Xiao Han's frown deepened. He didn't want to see it, so he grabbed Zhuo Fan's arm and pulled him onto the bed, making him lie face down on the white sheets.

"Your Majesty?" Zhuo Fan moved uneasily. Though the room was warm, being naked in winter made his hands and feet cold.

Xiao Han pressed his waist, coldly saying, "Don't move. Don't look back."

Zhuo Fan grew more anxious but obediently lay still, enduring Emperor Qing's fingers lubricating and stretching him.

Xiao Han was too annoyed to play games. He firmly held Zhuo Fan's waist and thrust in. The tight, hot passage instantly made him feel feverish, driving him deeper, beginning a vigorous conquest.

"Ah... Your Majesty... ah..." Zhuo Fan's body swayed with Xiao Han's movements, his intermittent moans lost in the sea of passion. He wanted to turn and see the Emperor's face, but his body was firmly held, only hearing the heavy, indifferent breaths of the man above him.

In stark contrast to Zhuo Fan's complete nudity, Xiao Han remained relatively well-dressed, with only his undergarments slightly pulled down. The imperial bed's sheets were in disarray, clutched by Zhuo Fan, and the small space was filled with the sounds of a man's unrestrained moans and the wet, sloshing sounds.

Yet, the more his body burned with heat, the colder his heart grew, as if another person was borrowing his eyes to coldly observe the absurdity of it all...

At the final moment, Zhuo Fan let out a loud cry, his thighs shaking uncontrollably, his gaze unfocused. Xiao Han lay on Zhuo Fan's pale back, breathing heavily, and after a long pause, he slowly rose, slipping out from the warm, moist interior.

His dark eyes watched as the milky fluid dripped from between Zhuo Fan's legs, staining the sheets, showing no intention of touching the man again, his expression utterly indifferent.

The stickiness on his body made him feel quite uncomfortable. Xiao Han frowned as he cleaned himself up, then stepped off the bed without a backward glance at the man on the bed, whose face was on the verge of tears. The grand hall was left with only Zhuo Fan's unceasing gasps and the cold, echoing footsteps, leaving the hall eerily silent.

—Since the script demanded he play the role of a scoundrel, then he would go all in, no holds barred!