Chapter 3: Affection Do Not Fall for the Emperor

Chapter 3: Affection – No Longer Loving His Majesty

Today’s cream puffs tasted bitter.

Every single one of them.

Xiao Cuan sat upright at his desk, composed and serene. With his right hand, he wielded a vermilion brush, its strokes flowing like dragons and snakes as he penned his imperial comments on the memorials. Meanwhile, his left hand reached beneath the desk, pressing down on Yan Zhi’s head.

Yan Zhi knelt before him, body bowed, cheeks flushed, eyes rimmed with red.

A quarter of an hour had not yet passed, and His Majesty was not yet finished.

Xiao Cuan pressed down the final stroke firmly on the memorial, then tossed the brush aside. He seized Yan Zhi’s shoulders, pulling him out from under the desk.

“Time’s up.”

“Your Majesty…” Yan Zhi covered his face with his sleeve, coughing softly. “Not yet.”

“If I say it’s up, then it’s up.”

Xiao Cuan pushed aside Yan Zhi’s hand, pressing his thumb against Yan Zhi’s bruised, reddened lips. “You didn’t do what I asked, and I didn’t finish. What now?”

“Your servant…”

Yan Zhi hesitated, then tentatively reached out, wrapping his arms around His Majesty’s neck.

This time, His Majesty didn’t call him an “idiot.”

Yan Zhi timidly leaned closer to His Majesty.

Yan Zhi wore the thin under-robe of a palace attendant, while Xiao Cuan was still clad in armor.

Their eyes met, breaths mingled, and a mix of warmth and chill passed between them.

Only then did Yan Zhi belatedly understand.

His Majesty had deliberately called him a puppy, deliberately used harsh words to scare him, and deliberately offered to teach him how to win favor—all for this.

Just for this.

His Majesty never admitted to his own desires.

Yan Zhi slowly drew nearer, finally touching His Majesty’s lips with his warm ones, light as a dragonfly skimming water.

He whispered, “Did Your Majesty want your servant to do this?”

Xiao Cuan’s breath hitched. He gripped the back of Yan Zhi’s head, pulling him even closer.

“You’re not entirely stupid after all.”

“Mmm…”

Yan Zhi straddled His Majesty’s lap, his head held firmly in place, with no escape. He could only tilt his head back and yield.

His Majesty kissed him as if waging war on a battlefield—fiercely and brutally.

As Yan Zhi gasped for breath, a thought suddenly popped into his mind—

Did His Majesty truly hate him?

Was he trying to kiss him to death?

Just as Yan Zhi’s mind began to wander, Xiao Cuan suddenly lifted him.

He was completely airborne.

“Ah…”

Panicked, Yan Zhi instinctively clung to His Majesty’s neck.

By the time he realized what was happening, His Majesty had already placed him on the imperial desk.

The memorials His Majesty had just finished reviewing were now beneath him, their still-wet vermilion ink staining his clothes.

“Your Majesty…”

Realizing this, Yan Zhi clung tightly to Xiao Cuan’s neck, struggling to avoid sitting down fully.

“Afraid? It’s not a frying pan.” Xiao Cuan slowly pulled his hands away, making him sit. “Did it burn you?”

“No… it’s the memorials…” Yan Zhi still tried to resist. “The officials’ memorials…”

“Ah, yes. How dare you sit on the memorials submitted by the ministers?” Xiao Cuan tapped his cheek, feigning sternness. “Yan Zhi, how dare you try to seduce me in a place like this?”

“Your servant didn’t—”

“Naughty little dog.”

Not allowing him to protest, Xiao Cuan untied his sash, reached in, and pinched him.

He delivered a final threat: “Don’t move. If you dirty the memorials, I’ll have you castrated.”

“—Just like neutering a puppy.”

Yan Zhi went limp, unable to resist. With a whimper, he clung to His Majesty.

He didn’t want to be castrated.

Xiao Cuan chuckled softly, then deliberately spread his arms, no longer holding him.

Yan Zhi had no choice but to cling tighter, burying himself in His Majesty’s embrace, hanging onto him.

“Don’t… Your Majesty, please don’t castrate me…”

“That depends on your behavior.”

*

Two hours later.

Yan Zhi, having skipped lunch and been thoroughly exhausted by His Majesty, lay limp in his arms, eyes closed, utterly drained.

Yet His Majesty refused to let him rest, holding him, pinching his cheeks, and shaking him vigorously to force his eyes open.

“Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Dazed, Yan Zhi slowly lifted his head to survey his surroundings.

The main hall was in utter chaos.

The inkstone that had been on the desk had somehow been kicked off by him, smashing into pieces on the floor.

The once perfectly fine vermilion brush had been crushed beneath him, leaving streaks on his clothes, its bristles now mangled.

Even the memorials from the court officials, which he valued most, were now in disarray.

“What should we do?” Xiao Cuan deliberately asked him. “It’s all ruined like this. What do you think should be done?”

Yan Zhi felt utterly humiliated, but he was too exhausted to think of a solution.

So he lowered his eyes and whispered, “Your servant knows he was wrong. Your Majesty can punish your servant with ten strokes of the rod—just please don’t castrate your servant…”

Before he could finish, his head drooped, and he collapsed into the emperor’s arms, silent and motionless.

Like a broken jar beyond repair.

“Ten strokes of the rod?” Xiao Cuan looked down at his docile, motionless form and chuckled softly. “You said it yourself. Next time, it’ll be ten army canes.”

With one arm around Yan Zhi, Xiao Cuan grabbed a piece of scrap paper from the desk, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it aside.

Indeed, all the papers on the desk were just scraps—deliberately placed there to scare Yan Zhi.

The properly reviewed memorials had long been set aside elsewhere.

This idiot Yan Zhi had been trembling in fear all this time and still hadn’t noticed.

After discarding the scrap paper, Xiao Cuan picked up Yan Zhi and strode toward the rear hall, in buoyant spirits.

Nestled in his arms, Yan Zhi clutched tightly at his robes, eyes closed, his small face knitted as if struggling to stay awake.

Xiao Cuan glanced at him and deliberately shook him, his voice cold as he teased, “Wake up. Don’t sleep. I’m sending you to the eunuch’s quarters right now.”

“No…” Yan Zhi jolted awake and shook his head. “Your Majesty promised me… I wouldn’t be castrated… I’ve been good…”

“Times change. That was a promise from years ago—do you even remember?”

“Ten years ago… Your Majesty promised me ten years ago,” Yan Zhi murmured. “Your Majesty’s word is law. You can’t go back on it…”

Xiao Cuan laughed. “I’ve already ‘devoured’ you—why can’t I go back on my word?”

As he spoke, Xiao Cuan kicked open the rear hall doors.

Behind the Taiji Hall was a hot spring pool, fed by mountain springs that steamed year-round.

No palace attendants were in sight, but everything was prepared—hot water, towels, fresh clothes, and even warm meat porridge and milk to fill their stomachs.

Xiao Cuan carried Yan Zhi into the water.

Leaning against the edge of the pool, Xiao Cuan held Yan Zhi against his chest.

With one hand, he took a large sip of the meat porridge, while the other dipped into the water to clean Yan Zhi.

Second nature to him, handled with ease.

The water rippled, mist swirling around them.

Before long, Xiao Cuan finished the porridge just as he finished washing Yan Zhi.

He picked up the warm milk and held it to Yan Zhi’s lips.

“Wake up. Drink this knockout potion. I’ll castrate you soon—it won’t hurt.”

Startled, Yan Zhi turned his head away in a daze, clearly refusing.

Xiao Cuan “tsk”-ed, freed a hand to grip his chin, forced his mouth open, and poured the milk in.

“Drink.”

Unable to resist, Yan Zhi could only swallow mouthful after mouthful.

Xiao Cuan poured too quickly, leaving Yan Zhi spluttering. Some of the milk spilled from the corners of his lips into the hot spring.

Xiao Cuan scoffed. “Thanks to you, I get to enjoy bathing in milk.”

He tossed the bowl aside, grabbed a dry towel, and gave a few rough pats over Yan Zhi’s head.

Fifteen minutes later, Xiao Cuan, draped in a thin robe, carried the dripping-wet Yan Zhi back to the royal quarters.

The main hall was still devoid of attendants, but the previously messy desk had been tidied.

Fragrant incense filled the room, clean and orderly.

Xiao Cuan tossed Yan Zhi onto the bed. The moment Yan Zhi touched the sheets, he curled up and tumbled all the way to the far side.

Frowning in displeasure, Xiao Cuan grumbled, “I carried you back and forth, washed you, even fed you milk. And this is how you repay me? Turning away the moment you’re free?”

“—Heartless pup.”

With a loud thump, Xiao Cuan threw himself onto the bed, grabbed Yan Zhi’s collar, and yanked him back.

“Turn around! Hold me!”

“Mm-hmm…”

Yan Zhi mumbled in response, sensing the emperor’s body heat, and instinctively pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Xiao Cuan’s solid arm.

“Tighter. Or I’ll send you to the castration chamber.”

Yan Zhi paused, as if understanding, then stretched his arms further around Xiao Cuan’s waist, clinging to him entirely, burying his face in the emperor’s chest.

Just as Xiao Cuan began to feel satisfied, he heard Yan Zhi mumble drowsily—

“Your Majesty… if you castrate me… then I won’t like you anymore…”

Xiao Cuan’s gaze darkened. He looked down at him. “What did you say? Say that again.”

Yan Zhi’s eyes remained closed, clearly already asleep. He didn’t answer, only letting out two soft snores like a kitten.

Xiao Cuan shook his head and pinched his cheek. “Idiot. Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Yan Zhi was dead asleep now, impossible to rouse. Xiao Cuan had no choice but to relent for the moment.

He seized Yan Zhi by the nape, like holding an unconscious critter, and forced his head up.

Narrowing his eyes, Xiao Cuan swept a cold gaze over him, as if seeing something, then snorted dismissively, smugly assured.

“You dare dislike me? Your fondness is spilling over, and you dare say you don’t like me?”

“That’s crazy talk, total nonsense. I’ll settle this with you when you wake up.”

He released his grip, and Yan Zhi lowered his head, his forehead thudding against his chest.

Yan Zhi let out a couple whimpers, wriggled slightly to adjust into a comfortable position, and fell quietly asleep.

Xiao Cuan turned his head and called out to the attendants outside, ordering them to bring in the unprocessed memorials.

The servants outside acknowledged the command, then pushed open the palace doors and carried in the memorials.

Xiao Cuan raised his hand and drew the curtain by the bed, blocking the view of the bed.

The attendants kept their eyes downcast, not daring to glance around, and left after setting down the documents.

Xiao Cuan leaned back on the couch, absentmindedly picking up a memorial and preparing to open it.

Suddenly, his peripheral vision caught something unusual. He instinctively straightened up, his brow furrowing as he fixed his gaze on Yan Zhi’s face.

Yan Zhi was asleep, but not peacefully.

His brows were slightly knitted, as if tangled in a turbulent dream.

—If His Majesty castrates me, then I won’t like His Majesty anymore.

—No, His Majesty is just teasing me. I should still like His Majesty.

—If His Majesty calls me “puppy” again, then I won’t like His Majesty anymore.

—No, His Majesty is just tough on the outside but soft inside. I should still like His Majesty.

—But His Majesty keeps scaring me and bullying me. I refuse to like His Majesty anymore.

—No, His Majesty saved my life and gave me pastries. I should still like His Majesty.

—His Majesty is about to hold the Imperial Selection. Soon, he’ll have an empress and consorts. I must stop loving His Majesty…

—No… no…

“Is the feelings gauge broken?”

Xiao Cuan was silent for a moment before finally lightly slapping Yan Zhi’s cheek.

“Idiot, or have you lost your mind?”