Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That winter, the general raised his banners and led his army back in triumph. The city gates were thrown open, and the roads were lined with crowds.

Fang Zhihe sat restlessly in the grand hall. He had wanted to join the officials of the third rank and above to greet him at the city gate, but he had caught a chill the previous night and come down with a cold.

Qi Guan forbade him from leaving the palace, so he had to force himself to sit in the court and wait for that man to come riding back.

The hall was empty except for the two of them. Qi Guan wrung out a cloth to wipe his forehead, while he stared eagerly out the door. Qi Guan sighed, “Your Majesty, are you sure you want to be seen like this by General Lu?”

Fang Zhihe stiffened, looked up, and blinked dejectedly.

“…Oh.” He let Qi Guan clean his hands, his eyes lowered and submissive, completely unlike his usual cold, aloof court demeanor.

A pang of melancholy rose in Qi Guan's heart, but he could no longer comfort him as he used to, so he let it go. It was pointless anyway—this man never valued his comfort.

Lu Wuyou dismissed the army, gave orders for the soldiers to be settled, then turned and headed back to his own residence.

*

Fang Zhihe waited until midday before he saw the welcoming procession enter the palace. Everyone was there except that one man. He thought maybe his cold was getting worse and silently counted the people again.

One person was missing—just Lu Wuyou alone.

Chen Yu, leading the group, saw his displeased expression and immediately knelt to report, “Your Majesty, General Lu had some family matters…” He didn't know how to continue and glanced up at the man on the throne.

Normally, when the army returns, the commander should first come to pay respects to the emperor… But ah, well.

Fang Zhihe's hands clenched into fists inside his sleeves. He had always known Lu Yuntai couldn't stand him, even now that he was emperor.

Fortunately, he had long prepared himself for this.

Aside from the heartache, there was nothing much.

After a long pause, Fang Zhihe forced a smile. “It’s fine. Minister Chen, please rise.” He remained seated, unmoving, and spoke softly, “This frontier campaign was a long one. To have driven out the Tatars completely in five years is all thanks to the bravery of our soldiers. You have protected our territory and ensured the people’s peace. To have such soldiers is truly a blessing to our Fang Dynasty.”

His cold made him dizzy and sluggish, his words weak, but he forced himself to say a few more words of encouragement.

After announcing the rewards briefly, Fang Zhihe said in a deep voice, “Qi Guan, at tonight’s banquet in the palace, make sure General Lu Wuyou does us the honor of attending.”

As soon as he spoke, everyone in the hall bowed in trepidation.

Fang Zhihe scanned them coldly, a dark frustration lodged in his throat, and he coughed twice.

“Court is adjourned.”

After court, Qi Guan helped him back to his chambers. On the way, he suddenly shook off Qi Guan’s hand and stood with his back to the others.

Qi Guan raised his hand to dismiss the attending servants, standing behind his brooding emperor, watching him tremble. His nose stung slightly.

“Huaishu…” he called softly.

Fang Zhihe took a deep breath and said slowly, “How dare he humiliate me like this?”

“He’s just presuming on your indulgence,” Qi Guan said.

Fang Zhihe let out a strange laugh. “Indulgence?”

Qi Guan reached out to straighten his robe. “Don’t you indulge him?”

Fang Zhihe lowered his eyes. “If not for Lu Yuan’s sake, I would have had him beaten today.”

“…”

Qi Guan was speechless.

Even the old yellow mutt at the palace gate wouldn't buy that.

The palace banquet was held in the imperial garden. Lu Yuan’s lessons hadn’t ended yet, so Fang Zhihe sent someone to bring him some pastries, then hurriedly changed into a light, simple, purple-trimmed robe. The jade pendant hanging at his waist was one he had stolen from Lu Wuyou five years ago.

*

He wore it so that the man would notice it at once.

Sure enough, the man standing under the long pavilion, who had been chatting and laughing with Chen Yu, frowned the moment he saw him.

The ministers all bowed to Fang Zhihe. He nodded slightly and walked straight toward Lu Wuyou.

Seeing this, Chen Yu quickly slipped out of the pavilion, brushing past Fang Zhihe and calling out, “Your Majesty.” Fang Zhihe shot him a cold look. He had a grudge against this man, entirely because he had joined Lu Wuyou in mocking him.

But the real culprit was the man in front of him.

Five years apart, and he still looked much the same, only more spirited, with clear eyebrows and eyes bright as the moon.

The black robe with gold trim and an embroidered python made him look tall and broad-shouldered, standing straight and imposing.

Fang Zhihe softened his expression and forced calm into his voice. “You’ve lost some weight.”

Lu Wuyou raised an eyebrow and sneered, “Naturally, I’m not as carefree as you, Your Majesty.”

Fang Zhihe ignored the remark, reached out to brush invisible dust off his shoulder, and said softly, “Yuntai, I missed you.”

On the stone table in the pavilion were a few plates of pastries and two flasks of wine. Lu Wuyou looked down at the pastries—clear and translucent, with the words “Osmanthus Wine” stamped on them.

Seeing that Lu Wuyou didn’t answer, Fang Zhihe stepped closer and said lightly, “Why didn’t you write to me for five years?” A hint of sulkiness crept into his tone.

Lu Wuyou turned his head to examine him, catching sight of the jade pendant at his waist—a pear blossom shape with the characters “Wuyou” in the middle, a gift from Fang Zhiyuan years ago.

“I did write,” Lu Wuyou said, his eyes dark, his expression displeased. “You stole that pendant,” he stated firmly.

Fang Zhihe looked at him. “Why didn’t you mention me even once?”

Lu Wuyou snorted. “Fang Zhihe, to me, the emperor is just someone not worth a moment of my thought. I hated you when you weren’t emperor, and I hate you now that you are. When you weren’t emperor, I had nothing to say to you; now that you are, I still have nothing to say.”

The evening wind was cold and biting. Fang Zhihe let it blow over him, his whole body shivering. To appear elegant and refined, he had worn thin clothes, specifically changing into a fitted, thin robe before leaving. Now, fittingly, he was shaking like a leaf.

“…Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands, curled inside his sleeves, wanted to reach out but had no strength. He could only step back and sit on a stone stool, forcing a couple of weak laughs.

Lu Wuyou watched him coldly. He found this man as irritating as he had been five years ago. Imperial power, to him, was just a whetstone for the useless—the more it grinds, the thinner they become, easily shattered, ultimately worthless.

He couldn't stand to look at him any longer, and said in a deep, commanding voice, “Return the pendant to me.”

Fang Zhihe looked up, his eyes red, his face pale. A gust of wind made him cough twice.

Lu Wuyou simply reached out to snatch it, but Fang Zhihe bit his hand fiercely. He bit into his flesh until Lu Wuyou kicked him, making him let go.

Fang Zhihe sneered. “I am the emperor. What I want, that’s mine.”

Lu Wuyou’s face darkened. “Bastard.”

Fang Zhihe took off the jade pendant from his waist, not bothering to care about Lu Wuyou’s insults. Suddenly, he raised his eyebrows and smiled, then hurled the pendant into the lake.

"Lu Yuntai, you remember this—even if Fang Zhiyuan cared about you, I wouldn't let him come back, let alone that he doesn't give a damn about you! Who do you think you are? Even when my Fang family were commoners in the previous dynasty, you were never in our league, and now I am the sovereign and you are the subject!" Fang Zhihe said sharply, his hands trembling uncontrollably in his sleeves, his eyes fixed on Lu Wuyou's expression, his heart tightening.

Lu Wuyou reached out and grabbed Fang Zhihe by the collar, squinting as he studied his face, then suddenly smiled. "Your Majesty, my good Majesty, the way you talk makes me want to fuck you senseless."

"..." Fang Zhihe's face went pale.

Lu Wuyou released his grip expressionlessly, brushing past him with only one remark, "You'd better find that jade pendant and bring it back to me."

Fang Zhihe slumped back abruptly, breaking out in a cold sweat despite the chilly wind, the sticky sensation in his palm stinging faintly.

He opened his hand and looked down. Blood was spreading across his palm. Only then did he realize it wasn't weakness he'd felt earlier—he had been gripping so hard he hadn't felt a thing.

He lifted his eyes to watch the retreating figure, his thigh throbbing dully where Lu Wuyou had kicked him. He rubbed it himself and sighed in annoyance.

Fortunately, the one he had thrown away wasn't the real jade pendant.