Late into the night, beneath the moon and among the flowers, Yu Gong Zhao Ye was pinned down by Wei Fu and made to spar with swords in the courtyard for what felt like half the night. By the end of it, a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across his body and the alcohol had mostly worn off, so he planned to wash up and go to sleep. But Wei Fu, that clingy nuisance, had no intention of letting go, as though afraid Yu Gong Zhao Ye might run away. He insisted on carrying him into the bathhouse under the noble pretext of helping him bathe. Yet while bathing, he once again completely abandoned any notion of hospitality and insisted on competing in a second round.
During the time away from Bihan City, Wei Fu no longer had to worry over countless matters every day. Beside Yu Gong Zhao Ye, he had received more than enough care and security. The haggard weakness left behind by the poisoning had vanished completely. Even the “dowry wine” had added a touch of color to his complexion. Amid the hazy steam and drifting warmth, he kissed Yu Gong Zhao Ye without warning, causing the latter’s already not particularly steadfast resolve to collapse even faster.
By the time they finished their sword match, the bathwater had nearly gone cold. Only then did the two of them finally finish that absurd bath. Like thieves, they crept lightly and quietly back to the bedroom and fell asleep wrapped in warm bedding scented faintly with dragon gall incense, their necks intertwined.
They had not gone all the way that night, but to be honest, simply facing each other naked was already tantamount to setting fire to Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s bottom line. In his ingrained understanding, “love” had never been a particularly good thing. It was one of the moments when ordinary people were least guarded. After all, anyone involved in assassination work had surely taken action while others were occupied with such matters more than once.
He had seen many scenes involving men and women together—indeed, the words “men” and “women” could be arranged in any combination imaginable. Most of the time, Yu Gong Zhao Ye stood outside the door. He neither peeped nor rushed. He would simply wait for the commotion to end before entering to do what needed to be done.
This seemingly considerate habit was not born from compassion toward the soon-to-be-dead, nor from any particular refinement on his part. It was purely because, in his youth, his experience had been limited and he did not yet understand how low human beings could sink when they behaved like beasts. While infiltrating Luoling in Yanyuan, he had once secretly followed a member of the Ten Aspects Sect into Dukuan Temple during one of their gatherings in order to investigate the sect.
That day, the temple was conducting the “True Spirit Guidance” ritual. The great hall was vast and empty. Crouched upon the roof beam, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had a perfect view of the unobstructed “Lotus Platform” below. Upon it were placed two “True Spirits”—one blind, one deaf and mute. Their faces were pale with terror. Their naked bodies were pitifully thin, marked by injuries that had not yet faded. Judging from their appearance and stature, they were about his own age.
The sect members, varying in height, build, and appearance, shed their outer disguises and surged forward in a pack like hyenas fighting over carrion. Within the grand and solemn temple hall, obscene sounds rang out without end.
It was the first time Yu Gong Zhao Ye truly realized that even if a person was blind, deaf, mute, and unable to move, suffering would still reveal itself faithfully in every twisted expression and every convulsing muscle. Yet because they could not scream and their struggles were so slight, almost no one noticed that pain.
To ignore something was to pretend it did not exist. Thus those people conversed, moved, celebrated, and reveled without guilt. Some of them had genuinely bought into the teachings. Even while moving, they murmured scriptures under their breath, praying to some unknown deity in the void, begging to temper their souls, transcend all worldly suffering, and attain eternal bliss.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye could not act rashly and alert the enemy. Nor could he leave. He could not deceive himself by closing his eyes and pretending not to see. So he remained silent, standing shoulder to shoulder with whatever gods might or might not exist in the void, gazing down upon that infernal dance of demons until it finally ended.
The horrific sights of that night left a shadow that lingered around him to this day. Ever since then, scenes of that nature always made him uncomfortable.
It was precisely because the impression had been so profound that, years later at the headquarters of the Ten Aspects Sect, when Yu Gong Zhao Ye saw the “True Spirit” lying upon the Lotus Platform, he had not killed him outright to eliminate future trouble. Even when the “True Spirit” himself had practically accepted death, Yu Gong Zhao Ye still risked exposing himself to give him a path to survive.
What he had not expected was that the boy’s path to survival would be so twisted and difficult that even he himself had nearly lost his life. Nor had he expected that this same person would become the first one, many years later, to part the dark clouds and sweep away the gloom—and that he himself would end up completely ensnared as well.
Old memories were drowned beneath the fragrance of flowers and the warm breeze of the moonlit night. Amid scattered whispers and laughter, they slowly sank to the bottom of the sea. Boundless affection lifted him gently like warm water. As the dream drifted toward its peaceful conclusion, Yu Gong Zhao Ye opened his eyes within a warm embrace.
The past had not been a pleasant dream, yet his heart was unusually peaceful. After such deep and solid sleep, the exhaustion accumulated from prolonged travel had vanished entirely. His whole body felt immersed in a lazy, slightly aching softness that seemed to seep out from between his bones.
Steady, delicate breaths brushed softly against his temples. Wei Fu’s face was close enough to touch, faintly visible in the dim light of dawn.
When asleep, he did not look as gentle and approachable as he usually did, the sort of person anyone could casually strike up a conversation with. Perhaps because those peach blossom eyes that seemed affectionate even when looking at a dog were closed, the softened lines of his face finally revealed their true shape. His lips were pressed into a straight line, and his nose stood sharp and solitary like a mountain peak, lending him a rare air of coldness.
His arms were still wrapped tightly around Yu Gong Zhao Ye, his back instinctively curved as though hiding him within his embrace.
Reincarnation. Karmic destiny. Fate. A whole procession of grandiose descriptions marched through Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s mind before coming to rest upon Wei Fu’s picturesque features. In the end, only a single thought remained.
This person is mine.
He no longer had to return what he had found, nor search fruitlessly for what he had lost, nor meet someone without recognizing them. The blade lost beneath the water would never follow the boat, but the little stork he had personally saved would fly back to his side.
Because he likes me.
Those words were louder than any judgment fate could ever deliver. Like a thousand-jun hammer crashing from the heavens, they struck down with overwhelming force, only to contract into a single pounding heartbeat at the instant of impact, sending ripple after ripple through this small, dim, quiet world.
He likely did not realize how intense his gaze had become. Wei Fu had already awakened beneath it. Before long, both the corner of his mouth and one eyelid twitched.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “…”
Whenever Wei Fu was awake, the graceful curve of his lips naturally lifted. He had not even opened his eyes yet, but that faint smile had already filled the bed curtains with peach blossoms.
“Peeking at me first thing in the morning?” Lowering his head, he moved closer to Yu Gong Zhao Ye, his cool nose affectionately brushing against the other man’s cheek. “Can my humble beauty still catch Your Highness’s eye?”
The warm breath tickled Yu Gong Zhao Ye. Knowing that if he merely answered “yes,” he probably would not be getting out of bed today, he leaned back and bit back instead. “You were awake and still pretending to sleep. What kind of mischief were you plotting?”
“I was waiting for you to notice,” Wei Fu replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“But it seems Your Highness got distracted looking at me, didn’t you?” Mischievous light sparkled in his eyes. As he spoke, he kissed Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s cheek and laughed softly. “It’s fine. You can look openly. Look as much as you want. It’s free.”
Last night he had not called him “Your Highness” at all. Every word had been “A’Ying,” intimate and affectionate, enough to make one think they had never been separated since the age of fifteen.
Now, after a single night’s sleep, who knew what crooked idea he was plotting again? Yet he wore the appearance of a pitiful fox spirit. Yu Gong Zhao Ye raised a brow. “Wasn’t I always allowed to look?”
There he lay upon the pillow, handsome and elegant without the slightest self-awareness, seducing people with expressions that ought not exist. Wei Fu’s smile deepened. Beneath the blanket, he caught Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s hand and pressed it against his chest through the thin fabric of his undergarment. “Then would Your Highness like to look somewhere else?”
That smile clearly implied something far beyond merely “looking”—the sort of activities the authorities definitely did not permit people to see. Yu Gong Zhao Ye immediately withdrew his hand and sat up, preparing to escape a trap that could hardly be bothered to disguise itself. “No thank you. I’m not that casual of a person…!”
Wei Fu reached out and dragged him back into his arms. Turning over, he used his shoulders and the wall to form an airtight fortress, carefully yet stubbornly trapping Yu Gong Zhao Ye inside.
At such close range, even their heartbeats seemed shared. Wei Fu narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. Invisible fox tails wagged behind him while he asked in a voice trembling on the edge of tears, “Why not? Was I not attentive enough last night?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye thought, Do you seriously not know how attentive you were? At a certain point it stops being attentiveness and starts being harassment.
Still, teasing was one thing. He felt that if he failed to say something flattering now, this crybaby surnamed Wei might very well wash his face with tears. Besides, if he truly had not liked it, he would have kicked Wei Fu off in the courtyard last night and hung him from the osmanthus tree to sober up.
Wei Fu continued playing the innocent victim. “Why isn’t Your Highness saying anything? You clearly liked it.”
This bastard’s face was the only thing capable of deception. In reality, he was tall enough to completely envelop Yu Gong Zhao Ye, imposing in a way that could hardly be ignored. Yet Wei Fu himself lacked even a shred of awareness. He pouted and acted spoiled as naturally as breathing, eating, or sleeping, without the slightest psychological burden.
Anyone else would have been thrown out long ago, but this was the one he had chosen himself, so he could only endure it. “When both parties are willing, that can’t really be called attentiveness, can it?”
He wrapped an arm around Wei Fu’s waist. Then, with sudden force, he twisted and swiftly reversed their positions.
Wei Fu: “…”
Supporting himself on one arm, Yu Gong Zhao Ye looked down at him from above. His lean, powerful body resembled a hunting leopard. Long hair cascaded downward like flowing water. The tiny mole at the hollow of his neck and the faint red mark beside it appeared and disappeared beneath the strands, like the shadow of a golden fish drifting beneath silver-rippled water.
Wei Fu’s throat bobbed involuntarily. His scalp suddenly felt hot. Embarrassed, he shifted his gaze away, only to be flicked lightly beneath the chin by Yu Gong Zhao Ye.
“Oh? So you do know how to be embarrassed.” He snorted. “A weasel gnawing on chicken bones isn’t as thorough as you. Were you using me to sharpen your teeth?”
That slender, resilient waist rested perfectly within his grasp. With every breath it brushed against his burning palm. The satisfaction of holding Yu Gong Zhao Ye entirely in his arms still lingered in his body, becoming almost a kind of muscular memory. Unable to help himself, Wei Fu wrapped an arm around his back and pressed gently at his waist, drawing Yu Gong Zhao Ye into his embrace. Lowering his head, he kissed the soft, cool strands of his hair.
There was little romance in that embrace. It felt more like two small animals huddling together for warmth.
This might have been the weakest moment of Wei Fu’s life. If possible, he wanted to remain hidden forever with Yu Gong Zhao Ye in the dim light before sunrise, or within some cave deep in the forest where no one could ever find them, like a little bird forever unable to fly high among the reeds, depending on one another for the rest of their lives.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye may not have fully sensed the changes in his mood, but he accepted the embrace gently, following Wei Fu’s strength. Just as he was about to stroke his head and comfort him, he heard Wei Fu sigh emotionally:
“Because I like you even more than a weasel likes chickens.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “…”
Grabbing Wei Fu by the ear, he roared with laughter and exasperation, “Can you even tell the difference between liking something and wanting to eat it?!”
Futile Devices Scans 
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