Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Fu Ye noticed that the favor he had been receiving recently had reached new heights.

After the Blossom Festival passed, the weather grew warmer day by day, and flowers bloomed in abundance. To his surprise, Fu Huang now ordered different fresh flowers to be picked and delivered by the cartload into the palace every single day.

Every flower that bloomed within the capital was gathered, for him to choose freely.

Such lavish displays of wealth.

But Fu Ye still felt it wasn’t enough.

He realized that this vast imperial palace, apart from the imperial gardens and the Empress Dowager’s quarters, had no flowers anywhere else!

So he instructed Shuang Fu to plant a row of roses along the wall of the eastern courtyard of Qingyuan Palace, then stood with arms crossed in the neighboring courtyard, examining the scene.

"Barren and devoid of vitality," he muttered.

He firmly believed that an environment filled with birdsong and floral fragrance was beneficial to both physical and mental health. Fu Huang, in his opinion, lived far too plainly.

Eunuch Qin nearly commented that His Majesty had never cared much for flowers and plants, but then he recalled how Fu Huang now ordered all sorts of blossoms delivered daily to the eastern side hall. Perhaps His Majesty had had a change of heart.

So he reported to Fu Huang, saying, "His Highness wishes to plant some plants in our courtyard as well."

Naturally, Fu Huang did not refuse.

At this point, if Prince Huan asked for the moon, His Majesty would build a tower to fetch it.

Thus, within two days, rows of peonies in large pots were planted in the main courtyard of Qingyuan Palace.

Since it was nearly the season for peonies to bloom, Fu Ye selected those already in bud. He had a knack for hastening their bloom—within two days of planting, some had already opened. Eunuch Qin stood beneath the corridor, arms tucked into his sleeves, eyeing the vibrant crimson blooms in the courtyard with a twinge of regret for having relayed Fu Ye’s wishes to Fu Huang.

They clashed with the palace’s dignified atmosphere.

Fu Huang was not a man who loved flowers—he simply wanted to please the prince. He passed by the peonies daily without sparing them a second glance.

The sight of bright red peonies in Qingyuan Palace, however, took Chancellor Xie and the other ministers aback when they arrived for political discussions.

They had already heard that His Majesty had recently been remarkably compliant with his treatments, taking medicine more diligently than before and even showing an improved appetite. He never skipped his daily acupuncture, and his headaches had lessened significantly, occurring only once every four or five days. Moreover, with Prince Huan attending to him, whenever His Majesty experienced a headache, the prince would stay by his side all night.

His Majesty no longer seemed as gloomy as before. Sometimes during political discussions, he would even walk to the Impartial Hall, permitting the ministers short respites there.

They were even served refreshments!

But today was even more unusual. While conducting state affairs in the Impartial Hall, His Majesty actually summoned Prince Huan to join them.

Chancellor Xie and the others assumed His Majesty had something to say to the prince, so they paused, intending to resume after Prince Huan left. But His Majesty said, "Carry on."

Prince Huan, ever the picture of deference, said, "Then I’ll excuse myself."

"Stay and listen," His Majesty said, glancing at Chancellor Xie and the others. "Carry on."

Exchanging a look with Minister of Personnel Liu, Chancellor Xie continued discussing the Spring official appointments.

After the meeting, as they left the hall, Minister Liu asked, "Is His Majesty... intending to grant Prince Huan political authority?"

The ever-shrewd Chancellor Xie replied, "His Majesty’s thoughts are the hardest to guess. Haven’t you grasped that by now?"

With that, he glanced back and saw Fu Huang standing by the window of the Impartial Hall, observing Fu Ye’s studies.

It's so strange—it's like His Majesty is a completely different person!

After staying at the Lihua Summer Palace for half a month, the Empress Dowager returned to the palace and was equally shocked to see rows upon rows of flower carts lining the palace corridors.

The court ladies who had remained in the palace eagerly informed her: "Prince Huan adores spring blossoms, so His Majesty has ordered carts of flowers to be delivered to the palace every day!"

"At Prince Huan’s residence, the attendants now rush back and forth three times a day, and multiple treasure vaults have been unlocked—every day, they pick out treasures to gift to Prince Huan!"

"Now, the Emperor personally teaches Prince Huan horseback riding and even coaches him personally in archery!"

Hitting the target isn’t the hard part—what’s difficult is mustering enough strength.

Fu Huang could easily draw the bow to full draw, and with a single "whoosh," his arrow would punch straight through the target.

Fu Ye, though, just couldn’t pull it off.

"Drop your shoulders, raise your elbows." Fu Huang stood close behind him, his toned chest pressed flush against Fu Ye’s back. Looming over him, his arms wrapped around Fu Ye entirely, his palms covering Fu Ye’s slender, pale fingers. "Don’t focus on the arrow—first, lock your posture."

Fu Ye’s arm shook as he drew the bow.

He figured: nobody’s perfect. He knew medicine, had studied traditional painting for ten years, played the flute for three years, and even picked up taekwondo. Educated at a university level and now well-versed in classical texts, he already knew plenty. Born with a weak constitution, becoming a master archer and horseman in this life was out of the question.

Just as he was about to let go, he felt Fu Huang’s hands suddenly exert force. With a gentle pull, the bowstring arched into a perfect crescent, the tendons in his wrist and hand standing out sharply. Then, with a swift release, the feathered arrow shot through the air and—"thud!"—punched straight through the target.

!!!

He was utterly awestruck.

The Emperor wasn’t just teaching him archery—he might as well have been piercing his heart with pure charm.

He was turning into a total fanboy!

Having exhausted all words of praise, he could only clap lightly and turn to look at Fu Huang, his eyes shining.

Fu Huang stayed stern: "Again."

The weather was warming, but since her recovery, the Empress Dowager had grown especially frail against the cold. Cloaked against the chill, she stood under the crimson-lacquered walkway, supported by Palace Matron Sun, watching the Emperor and the Prince at the archery pavilion from afar.

Even as a teenager, Fu Huang had never shown this much patience.

In truth, during their time in Lady Zhaoyang’s palace, Fu Huang’s relationship with the six-year-younger sixth prince, Fu Ye, had been far less close than with the third prince, Fu Hui. Partly due to the age gap, and partly because Lady Zhaoyang doted on her youngest—by the time Fu Ye was four or five, he was so mischievous that he’d even throw mud at Fu Huang when he visited.

Over a decade had passed, and they had both changed.

The troublemaking child had become a virtuous prince, his beauty unmatched in the court, while the once-radiant Fu Huang had become the solemn, imposing Emperor draped in black.

It was as if, after meandering for over a decade, they had finally returned to how things should have been.

Around the archery pavilion, court ladies and Inner Officials gathered, stealing glances at the Emperor and the Prince practicing archery. Whenever Prince Huan missed, even Eunuch Qin by the Emperor’s side would chuckle. Fu Ye’s dejected expression would make the onlookers cover their mouths to stifle laughter.

In the past, this would have been unthinkable.

Because the Emperor preferred to discuss governance outside the Qingyuan Palace, people would scatter whenever he took a stroll, making the palace grounds eerily quiet unless absolutely necessary.

But now, the Emperor embodied the patience of an elder brother, tirelessly guiding Prince Huan in archery. The wind whipped his black robe, embroidered with twelve imperial emblems, its hues blending with Fu Ye’s crimson python robe—making the Emperor seem far less intimidating.

"Your Majesty, the wind is strong here—let us return to the palace," Palace Matron Sun said gently.

The Empress Dowager coughed twice, then wrapped her cloak tighter and departed, taking in the vibrant spring blooms along the way.

After the Empress Dowager and her entourage had walked far away, Eunuch Qin finally turned to glance back.

His Majesty must’ve noticed too but acted oblivious.

Our Emperor’s got backbone now!

He couldn’t care less about others.

His Majesty doesn’t need their pity—he’s got the Prince doting on him!

As Fu Ye continued drawing the bow, his arm trembled more and more, yet Fu Huang seemed to take great pleasure in watching him "suffer." He looked more and more entertained, the corners of his usually stern lips lifting, and he became even more patient in his teaching.

Typical guy—always showing off.

Being a man himself, he understood this mentality.

"I can’t do this anymore," he said. "Have mercy, Brother."

He figured begging would amuse Fu Huang further.

He wanted to see him smile.

Though the Emperor wasn’t as striking as at sixteen, he believed his smile would reveal an entirely different side of him.

Yet, upon hearing this, Fu Huang’s lips pressed into a firmer line, his eyes raking over his face.

After a moment, he actually grew stricter, quitting guiding him directly and stepping back to watch him shoot from afar.

His usual deadpan look, with just a hint of sternness, gave him dad vibes.

Eunuch Qin figured His Majesty, too used to solitude, cherished the Prince deeply in his heart—but his way of showing it was all wrong.

He only knew how to be harsh—gentleness wasn’t in his playbook.

Since the Flower Festival had passed, Eunuch Qin now worried over Fu Ye just like he did Fu Huang, feeling deeply for him.

So Eunuch Qin dared to suggest, "Your Majesty’s still young and strong. Even if you wish to nurture the Prince, there’s no need to rush."

"If I don’t ride him hard, see how he’ll slack off?" Fu Huang replied.

Eunuch Qin cautiously added, "The Prince didn’t grow up in the palace—his temperament is already set. A leopard can’t change its spots. If you discipline him too harshly, this old man worries it’ll drive a wedge between Your Majesty and the Prince."

Fu Huang turned to look at him.

His face went stone-cold.

Then, the very next day, Fu Huang issued an edict: Fu Ye no longer had to rise at three or four in the morning to study.

Six or seven’s plenty.

Had he been asked to rise at six or seven from the start, Fu Ye would’ve still griped. But compared to three or four, he was utterly grateful, bowled over by the Emperor’s mercy!

Fu Huang even promised him a reward for every goal achieved.

Name his prize!

Finally, he dropped the dad act—now he actually seemed like a big brother.

Turns out, Fu Ye already knew exactly what he wanted.

He had brought back a few chapbooks from the imperial retreat earlier, which were quite entertaining. Classics and historical texts were commonplace, but storybooks read by court ladies were a rare sight.

Shuang Fu mentioned that when he served in the Palace of Compassionate Grace, he had seen the Inner Official above him reading similar chapbooks, along with small picture books.

"There should be many in the Repository," Shuang Fu said.

"The Repository?"

"That attic behind the Longqing Palace."

It turned out that Emperor Wuzong was fond of women, and with numerous concubines in the palace, life in the inner palace was dull and lonely. The attendants had few pastimes to pass the time. Dowager Concubine Fang, who hailed from a small foreign kingdom and was of royal birth, was well-versed in literature and adored writing. She penned *Palace Chronicles*, recounting secret gossip from her native court, which became famous in the palace for a time—even Emperor Wuzong enjoyed visiting her to listen to stories. Later, to compete for the emperor's favor, many concubines recruited literate court ladies and collected numerous chapbooks from the commoners. Gradually, this evolved from a means of winning favor into a trend, with court ladies using these books to ease their loneliness.

After Emperor Wuzong’s death and Fu Huang’s accession, this trend faded.

Fu Huang himself was completely humorless, and many books and curios from the inner palace were locked away in an abandoned palace, which the staff came to call the Repository.

But to enter the Repository, he needed Fu Huang’s permission.

Fu Huang likely didn’t understand the appeal of pocket-sized storybooks and asked, "Aren’t the books in the Zhizhong Hall (the imperial study hall) enough for you?"

"It’s different," Fu Ye said. "I heard the Repository has many chapbooks, and I want to read them."

He eagerly helped Fu Huang organize the memorials: "I won’t neglect my studies. If Your Majesty doesn’t believe me, you can check my progress daily."

Whether it was because Fu Huang had been unusually indulgent toward him lately, almost doting, or because he took great interest in checking his daily progress, he immediately ordered Eunuch Qin to arrange it.

"Happy now?"

Fu Ye nodded eagerly, piling on the flattery: "Your Majesty is so kind to me!"

Fu Huang found him utterly endearing. If not for his own incurable illness, he wouldn’t have forced Fu Ye to study at all.

But for the long term, Fu Ye still had to study.

Fu Ye would either remain a prince under his rule or become emperor himself.

If a new emperor took the throne, Fu Huang feared he might be bullied.

It was fine to bully others, but unacceptable to be bullied—otherwise, he’d claw his way out of hell.

If he were to become emperor, he shouldn’t be like Fu Huang. He should be a wise ruler of a prosperous era, revered and praised by all.

That evening, Eunuch Qin handed the key to the Repository to Qing Xi.

The next day, Fu Ye went to the Repository and was astonished to find far more books than he had imagined.

There were printed books, handwritten copies, and illustrated chapbooks of varying quality. These chapbooks included Buddhist Jataka tales (stories about the Buddha's previous lives), palace mysteries, folk legends, and even accounts of unsolved mysteries and court scandals.

The books were meticulously categorized, with some manuscripts by palace attendants stored separately in cabinets.

Fu Ye didn’t even know where to start!

This was a veritable treasure trove—even in modern society, it would be rare to find such well-preserved inner palace literature!

He considered them valuable historical artifacts. So he recruited Shuang Fu and others to help sort and catalog the Repository’s contents within a month, aiming to establish a royal library.

Overwhelmed with excitement, he skipped dinner and devoured the books until dawn, while Shuang Fu, exhausted, fell asleep at the desk.

Qing Xi, however, was like a machine that never quit.

His literacy also came in handy.

Fu Ye scrambled up from the floor and was about to go back to rest when he suddenly spotted a large album in a camphorwood cabinet.

He took out the scattered poetry manuscripts from the cabinet and picked up the album, only to find that there was more than one inside.

A hefty stack—two of them were woodcut prints, no less.

The artwork was masterfully done, and the covers alone were stunning. He absentmindedly flipped one open, and his eyes felt as if they had been scorched by fire. He snapped it shut.

The gold-leaf title, *Tales of the Golden Snow Temple at Night*, had worn away, and the scent of camphorwood mixed with dust wafted toward him.

Qing Xi glanced back at him.

Fu Ye’s heart hammered, and the poetry manuscripts in his arms scattered to the floor.

Because the moment he opened it, he saw two men entwined together by a bonfire in a dilapidated ancient temple.

It was… an erotic album.

And it was men—with men!