Zhong Yi was reserved by nature. He always did more than he said, and what he showed outwardly was often only a tenth or two of what he truly thought. Yet if he kept silent, then so be it; the moment he opened his mouth, he was bound either to pour oil onto the fire or say something earth-shattering.
Those words were like chisels carving open stone, each character engraved into Mu Heng’s heart one by one. With a crash, shattered rock scattered, and amid the swirling dust, the true golden form that towered between heaven and earth was revealed.
With the body of a mortal, he was favored by the mandate of heaven. He ruled over the four directions, and life, death, rise, and ruin all turned upon a single thought of his. He sat cold and majestic in the lonely heights of the ninth heaven, and yet that heart was still warm to the touch.
Before it could harden into stubborn stone, it had first been clumsily and gently embraced by a pair of wings tempered by wind and frost.
“Am I really that unreliable in your eyes? Anyone can come say a few words and trick me away?”
Zhong Yi: “…That’s not exactly what I meant.”
Although an emperor had no need to explain himself to a subject, Zhong Yi had thought Mu Heng would at least argue the rights and wrongs, the gains and losses, with him a little longer. Yet Mu Heng only gave a soft scoff.
“Since you were sincere, I’ll let it go.”
Zhong Yi: “?”
Even Mu Heng himself had not expected that after hearing Zhong Yi speak from the heart, his first reaction would actually be gratification.
If someone asked what expectations Mu Heng still had of Zhong Yi, His Majesty would certainly fall silent. No matter how one looked at it, Zhong Yi had already done nearly everything to the standard of a model example, and asking for anything more would seem like deliberately finding fault. Yet Mu Heng would not decisively answer “none,” either, because he could sense that something was still missing. Somewhere deep down, he had always carried a subtle premonition: if they continued like this forever, they might very well fail to make it to the end. At some point, everything between them would suddenly collapse and fall apart.
Only now, looking at Zhong Yi kneeling ramrod straight before him, appearing almost stubbornly blockheaded, did Mu Heng finally understand what he had been waiting for.
The Egret Guard was the Son of Heaven’s sharp blade. It obeyed only imperial orders and had to be prepared at any moment to die for the emperor’s will. But Mu Heng had never wanted Zhong Yi to become nothing more than a guard who knew only how to obey.
If Zhong Yi always followed Mu Heng’s wishes, obeyed his decisions, accepted his arrangements, and forever pressed his true desires to the very bottom—never arguing, never resisting, digesting every pain alone—then one day they would discover that both of them had become completely unrecognizable. They would no longer understand one another, and in the end, they would inevitably part ways.
Yet now Zhong Yi was kneeling there, willing to defy orders for the sake of his own principles, putting his brilliant future and even the emperor’s favor entirely out of consideration. Because that was his true self, the foundation upon which he stood in this world: the most precious thing within him, something that would not change for anyone and could not be shaken by anything external.
He was no longer suited to the Egret Guard.
But Mu Heng could let him go farther—to where the sky was high and the clouds vast, beyond layer upon layer of mountains and passes, until the years carved their names into stone and the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder forever upon a page of history.
Favored minister, loyal minister, renowned minister…
But what Mu Heng wanted was not limited to any of those.
“Is that all?”
His Majesty’s unhurried voice came from behind the imperial desk, each word rolling across the empty floor. Perhaps because his attitude was too calm, at first it carried the cool, crisp ring of jade striking gold.
Zhong Yi was like a puppy that had just thrown a rare fit of temper and smashed one jar, trembling as he waited for Mu Heng’s judgment, only for His Majesty to inform him that he had smashed an even bigger one. Questioned until he was at a loss, his shoulders and back tensed. He stared blankly at Mu Heng and let out a confused, “Huh?”
That sound was especially like a puppy whining, and Mu Heng very nearly lost his composure. He forced himself not to laugh, struggling to maintain a cold and handsome expression as he continued coaxing the confession out of him.
“You suddenly did something like this. Aside from worrying that I might take the wrong path, there was no other reason?”
Zhong Yi hesitated. “There wasn’t… was there?”
“There was.” Mu Heng’s tone was calm and beyond dispute. “Think again.”
Zhong Yi: “…”
Now he was beginning to miss Wei Fu too. At a time like this, it would have been nice to have someone beside him giving hints.
“…I really am slow-witted,” Zhong Yi asked carefully. “Could Your Majesty give me a clearer hint?”
Layers of fabric brushed against one another as Mu Heng moved, producing the faintest rustle. That tiny sound only made the hall seem quieter. Their breathing and heartbeats became extraordinarily clear, thudding like an accompaniment to Mu Heng’s steadily approaching footsteps, until together they sounded almost like drums summoning someone to his execution.
“I told you. Stop ‘this subject’-ing me.”
Mu Heng stopped one palm’s breadth before Zhong Yi’s knees and looked down at him. “Do you truly not know, or are you trying to play dumb and muddle your way through like usual?”
Leaving aside the slanderous accusation that he habitually played dumb, Zhong Yi thought, Isn’t this just forcing me to admit I’m stupid?
Yet the emperor’s heart was difficult to fathom. Zhong Yi truly could not understand why Mu Heng had casually brushed aside what had just happened, only to turn around and fuss over some nonexistent other reason. He could only plead sincerely, “Then… could Your Majesty give me just a little hint?”
Mu Heng tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, studying him for a moment. Finally, he sighed almost imperceptibly and extended one hand as though granting a pardon.
Zhong Yi: “?”
The good thing about so many years of companionship was precisely this. Although Zhong Yi had no idea what was happening, instinct made him cooperate. He hesitantly raised a hand and placed it into Mu Heng’s palm.
Mu Heng: “…”
The two stared at each other, frozen in that position.
A moment later, Mu Heng seemed to finally confirm that Zhong Yi really was simply a fool. He closed his fingers around those dry, strong knuckles, enclosing them within his palm, then habitually kneaded the softer flesh of his hand. Holding hands in this oddly neither-proper-nor-improper fashion, Mu Heng lifted their joined hands before Zhong Yi’s eyes and gave them a small shake.
“When I had just ascended the throne, I sent you to lead the Egret Guard in clearing out the former crown prince’s remaining faction. You pleaded for mercy on behalf of one of the rebels… If I remember correctly, he was your master’s nephew?”
From the moment he had entered and knelt, Zhong Yi’s heart had hung uneasily in midair. That tiny point of contact finally allowed it to settle. For a moment, countless feelings and old stinging aches surged through him. Hearing Mu Heng bring up the past, he absentmindedly gave a soft, “Mhm.”
“That man was one of the crown prince’s staunchest confidants, so I refused. I even told you to distinguish between your own side and outsiders…” Mu Heng said lightly. “It seems that after that, you never argued with me over official matters again.”
“Gradually, even our bickering became rare. Whatever I said, you listened. Even when I was wrong, you would obey on the surface and secretly find some way to make things right behind my back. You never firmly opposed me the way you did today.”
To “treat one another with the respect due honored guests” sounded so beautiful. Zhong Yi was a trusted confidant Mu Heng had personally cultivated and naturally stood on his side. Moreover, although Mu Heng was decisive by nature, he was not a stubborn, self-important ruler who refused to listen. Great matter or small, he asked Zhong Yi’s opinion and discussed things with him. It was already a degree of intimacy countless siblings, spouses, rulers, and subjects would never touch in their lifetimes. By rights, there should have been nothing to criticize.
But estrangement was like sand. No matter how fine the grain, once it got against the skin, it still chafed. In the years since Mu Heng ascended the throne, he had felt its presence more and more clearly. Mu Heng kept trying to find the grain and brush it away, while Zhong Yi chose avoidance and endurance.
“You learned to distinguish insiders from outsiders very clearly. Very cleverly, you placed yourself in the ‘correct position.’”
There had only ever been subjects accommodating an emperor’s wishes. How could there be any principle requiring His Majesty to accommodate him? Zhong Yi opened his mouth to explain.
“I—”
Mu Heng squeezed the back of his hand and did not let him continue.
“I know. Standing where you do, even if I never demanded it, there would be countless people fighting to teach you how a proper subject should behave. Anyone would try to protect himself wisely. I’m not blaming you.”
They had met too early and spent too long together, their identities bound too tightly. As Zhong Yi grew up, countless visible and invisible “shoulds” had pruned away his branches and leaves until he was shaped into the person he was now.
To Zhong Yi, Mu Heng was not entirely something good, harmless, and happy that could be accepted without reservation. On the contrary, Mu Heng also came with hardship, restraint, pain, and even fear. The saying that accompanying a ruler was like accompanying a tiger was no lie. Zhong Yi would spend his entire life cautiously seeking survival between fangs and claws.
“Directly interfering with the Crow Guard’s operation like this doesn’t resemble your usual way of doing things. Why?”
Zhong Yi’s fingers curled instinctively, startled, only for him to realize that his hand had long since been enclosed within Mu Heng’s.
Mu Heng was too perceptive. His insight into people could be frightening. Even if he had not been emperor, a personality like his would still have been exhausting to live with, because he was the kind of person who could tolerate not even a grain of sand in his eye.
“Because, uh… I acted on impulse?” Like a child being held by the teacher and prepared to have his palm struck, Zhong Yi guiltily watched Mu Heng’s expression and stammered tentatively, “That’s not right? Then it was because… um… Why was it?”
Mu Heng: “…”
So this idiot handled affairs entirely by charging forward with an iron skull while remaining utterly clueless about what was happening inside his own head. Mu Heng had patiently guided him and poured out half his heart for absolutely nothing.
He should have simply bundled Zhong Yi up and thrown him onto the bed. Once the deed was done, nobody would have to ask why anymore.
Mu Heng suddenly bent down, slipped his arms beneath Zhong Yi’s armpits, wrapped them around his back, and lifted him from the floor. How could Zhong Yi dare let His Majesty exert himself? He hurriedly followed the motion and bent his knees to stand.
But Zhong Yi rarely knelt ordinarily, and this time had been enough to make him suffer. His knees hurt and his calves were numb. His first step faltered, his body pitched forward, and he naturally went headfirst into Mu Heng’s arms.
“Mm… Your Majesty?”
“With your flashes of insight coming and going like this, who knows how long it’ll take before you finally understand? I can’t wait that long.” Thoroughly defeated by him, Mu Heng patted him along the spine and simply laid everything out. “That impulse of yours—charging out as though dogs were chasing you—was it because you saw those two bastards Wei Shuchen and Yugong Zhaoye finally get together and parade around showing off in front of everyone, and somewhere inside, you felt just a little envious?”
Zhong Yi buried his head against the warmth of Mu Heng’s neck and smelled a trace of lychee sweetness threaded through the fragrant agarwood incense. Mu Heng’s words struck his mind like lightning, bringing a sudden flash of clarity. Yet after that realization, he sank into even greater bewilderment.
“I… was thinking that?”
“You were.” Mu Heng held him a little tighter, his low voice caught somewhere between love and exasperation. “You’ve been like this since you were little. Whatever you want, you never say it. You just circle around me with those eager eyes, waiting for me to notice.”
“But I’m mortal too. There will always be times when I’m slow, when I overlook something, when I simply can’t look after you properly. You have to say it aloud. What you did this time was good. Only when you say it can I know what you want.”
These were words that could only ever be spoken between the two of them. If the Crow Guard commander heard them, he would immediately hang himself. If the remonstrating officials heard them, they could impeach Zhong Yi until neither he nor his dogs could leave the house.
Within that vast, splendid palace, the two embraced as though seeking warmth. Burning body heat passed through layers of robes and wrapped softly around them. Heaven and earth quietly collapsed into a space only a few inches wide. The world fell silent and ceased to exist; only each other’s breathing remained to prove it was still there.
In every possible sense, Zhong Yi was the person closest to Mu Heng.
And a person ought to know contentment. He should not greedily seek what did not belong to him, should not imagine himself to be the special exception, and should know when to stop. Only then could he withdraw intact and protect his heart from being crushed beneath fate.
Zhong Yi remained silent for a long time before murmuring against Mu Heng’s shoulder, “Your Majesty.”
“Mhm.”
“I want Your Majesty.”
“…”
He did not want to withdraw intact. He did not want to protect himself wisely. He did not want to be a safe and clever favored minister.
He wanted Mu Heng.
His Majesty seemed stunned by him. Only after a long while did he laugh softly.
“Haven’t I been yours all along?”
Joy as warm as water swelled to fill Zhong Yi’s chest, but it was not the kind of blazing ecstasy that made one want to shout and laugh aloud. It felt as though things should always have been this way—as though they had been meant to be this way. The drifting clouds finally dispersed. Heaven and earth filled with clear sunlight, while a spring wind blew ten thousand flowers open inside his heart, soft, fragrant, and overflowing until they filled the entire imperial city.
Satisfied, Zhong Yi wrapped his arms around Mu Heng’s waist and waited for the soreness, numbness, and pain in his legs to subside. He wanted to say something but could find no suitable opening, and he certainly was not yet prepared to become affectionate with His Majesty, so he suddenly returned to official business.
“Your Majesty may be lenient, but overstepping my authority was still wrong. Even if only to reassure the Crow Guards, Your Majesty should punish me.”
Mu Heng: “…How diligent of you, Commander Zhong. You haven’t even managed to stand properly yet and you’re already saying things like this to me.”
Embarrassed, Zhong Yi fumbled his way out of Mu Heng’s embrace, but Mu Heng did not let him escape completely. Still holding his hand, he led him back toward the imperial desk.
“They came back empty-handed after being played for fools. What exactly do they have to be unhappy about? The two of you can go find a restaurant tonight and each punish yourselves with three cups of wine. Pay more attention next time.”
Zhong Yi: “…”
Mu Heng could not be bothered mediating relations between colleagues for him. He slapped a memorial into Zhong Yi’s arms.
“Look at this. Intelligence sent back from Longsha this morning. Your shining example, Wei Shuchen, was poisoned earlier, and the Longsha court finally found out who did it. They say it was someone from Qiyun.”
“Have the Qiyun people gone mad?” Zhong Yi stared at him in astonishment. “Why would they poison Shuchen?”
“Exactly.” Mu Heng scoffed. “Yugong Zhaoye just made a huge gamble with us and won. Lucky at the gambling table, but in love…”
He gave a faint, malicious smile.
“I’d like to see how he gets out of this one.”
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