When Qin Xuanxiao walked into the inner chamber, he saw Qin Duoye sitting on the couch with a furrowed brow. Beneath the couch sat a beast-shaped brazier burning with premium silver frost charcoal.
With slightly unfamiliar movements, Qin Duoye used a clean silk cloth to wipe the tips of his damp hair, turning his head toward the fire to dry the remaining moisture.
Hearing Qin Xuanxiao’s approaching footsteps, Qin Duoye raised his head to look. Seeing that the man’s loose hair did not even reach his waist, he felt a twinge of envy. He lowered his gaze to his own head of frustratingly long hair and clicked his tongue softly.
Why on earth does Wen Qinghe insist on keeping his hair this long?!
In his past life, Qin Duoye’s hair had been short. Back in his childhood days in the northern frontier, the wind was dry; after bathing, a quick ride across the horse track would leave his hair almost completely dry.
The feng shui of the capital was gentle and humid, but as emperor, he naturally had attendants to dry his hair for him after a bath.
Whenever state affairs became too overwhelming, he would simply pick an auspicious day to slash his long hair down to a manageable length that could be easily tied up, saving the time spent drying it.
Unlike now, despite his best efforts to carefully dry it for so long, his hair was still damp.
“Do you have shears?” Qin Duoye let out a silent sigh, lifting his dripping long hair with a melancholic expression as he leaned back against the couch.
“What for?” Qin Xuanxiao drew closer.
Qin Duoye shook his heavy strands slightly. “To cut it off. It is too much of a nuisance.”
Qin Xuanxiao raised an eyebrow, reached out to pick up a pair of shears, and handed them over. “Do you aristocrats not always say that one’s hair is the emblem of propriety, righteousness, and character?”
“Propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame should be examined through deep self-reflection. What can possibly be told from the length of someone’s hair?” Qin Duoye took the shears, flicked his wrist upward, and without a moment’s hesitation or even a blink, cut his long hair right down the middle.
The ink-black strands, heavy with moisture, fell straight down to the floor.
“Can it tell whether someone has been pampered and spoiled all their life?” Qin Duoye shook his head, feeling lighter all over, and added the remark at the end.
This sight made Qin Xuanxiao’s heart flutter, and he was caught off guard as his gaze collided with those deep, ink-black eyes. Qin Duoye was not looking at him; instead, he lowered his gaze to inspect his shortened hair, looking quite satisfied.
His fringe fell forward, casting his brow in shadow. Without the timid compliance forced upon him by officials in the grand hall earlier, his bearing now exuded an air of calm confidence and ease.
A dragon’s grace and a phoenix’s bearing.
The phrase flashed into Qin Xuanxiao’s mind, refusing to be dislodged.
The memories of the Wuji Hall slowly faded, but those dark eyes suddenly grew sharp and clear once more, as if their true first meeting had been that day in the Changzhang Hall.
Qin Xuanxiao stepped closer, sat down beside him, and took the silk cloth to dry his damp locks.
The inner chamber grew quiet. The two of them silently waited for their hair to dry, leaving only the faint, crisp crackle of the silver frost charcoal burning in the brazier.
Before long, their hair was completely dry.
Qin Duoye put on his robes layer by layer and prepared to leave.
“Minister Wen,” Qin Xuanxiao suddenly spoke up.
“What is it?” Qin Duoye looked back.
The young emperor was still sitting on the couch, his hair loose, his inner robe draped loosely around his shoulders to reveal his chest.
Yet his expression was exceptionally solemn and earnest. Qin Duoye looked at him and took two steps closer. “What is it, Your Majesty?”
Suddenly, Qin Xuanxiao reached out, firmly grabbed Qin Duoye’s wrist, and pulled him to a stop right in front of him.
What is wrong with this child?
Qin Duoye met Qin Xuanxiao’s phoenix eyes inquisitively, suddenly sensing a deep, surging emotion brewing within them.
He patiently waited for the young man’s next move.
After a long silence, Qin Xuanxiao spoke slowly, his voice deep: “Minister Wen, I can offer you my trust.”
Qin Duoye stood quietly, softening his gaze as he stared at the young emperor before him. Intense, struggling emotions seemed to churn within those phoenix eyes before finally settling on a resolve he had never shown before.
“I will trust you. Even though I know your words and actions carry many anomalies, I will choose to trust you.”
It was a repeated assertion, yet heavier with conviction this time, as if he were trying to convince either Qin Duoye or himself.
Qin Duoye let his wrist be tightly held, nodding gently under the gaze of those phoenix eyes.
“Since you said you would be my person, you must never betray me.”
Qin Xuanxiao’s voice grew softer as he finished, but the prominent veins on the back of his hand betrayed the inner turmoil he felt.
Taking it all in, Qin Duoye lowered his gaze and sighed silently. He then looked back up and took another step closer to Qin Xuanxiao.
The emperor looked quite young, barely twenty years of age. Looking at that youthful face, Qin Duoye felt a soft ache in his heart.
Ascending the throne before reaching adulthood meant bearing a lonely, cold destiny of walking this path entirely alone.
Qin Duoye himself had been dragged onto the throne at seventeen. Ever since that day, his life had been filled with plots and counter-plots, bloodshed, and calculations, never once enjoying a sound night’s sleep.
Just as he finally clawed his way out of the suffocating web of eunuch dominance, countless eyes across the realm had turned toward him.
Countless pairs of hopeful, helpless, and yearning eyes watched him. He had racked his brains day and night, finding no peace.
Everyone spoke of the supreme majesty of the emperor and the finest treasures of the world used to pamper him, assuming everyone coveted the dragon chair. Yet no one understood the bitterness behind it.
Qin Duoye understood, and looking at this younger counterpart of his own lineage, he felt a profound wave of pity.
Only he truly knew what burdens one had to shoulder to firmly secure this seat at such a tender age.
Good boy, you have worked hard.
He raised his hand gently, resting his palm upon the young emperor’s head, and stroked it softly from front to back.
The moment his head was ruffled, Qin Xuanxiao’s eyes widened in shock. His phoenix eyes dilated, pupils trembling as he stared at Qin Duoye in utter disbelief, completely forgetting to stop him.
“You! Audacious…” He stammered, entirely thrown off balance.
Qin Duoye bent down, bringing his line of sight level with Qin Xuanxiao’s, and gave his soft hair another affectionate ruffle.
He really is just a kid.
An emperor’s trust, how precious it was. This was a decision the boy had reached with great difficulty.
“Do not worry, Your Majesty. I will never betray you.”
After all, you are a child of the Qin family. Since I have traversed a hundred years of time to reach this future, I will certainly take good care of my descendant.
Did I not wear myself to the bone in my past life precisely to ensure the Great Wei dynasty would endure for thousands of generations?
If the imperial seat is cold, then I will accompany you, making your journey smoother, warmer, and happier.
To govern with diligence and become a wise ruler beloved by his country and people.
Suddenly, Qin Duoye felt a tightness around his waist. He was pulled forward by his waist, forcing him to react in haste by bracing his hand against the couch beside Qin Xuanxiao to prop himself up.
In an instant, the two of them were extremely close, near enough to hear each other’s breathing and heartbeats.
“Your Majesty?”
Qin Duoye asked inquiringly.
Suddenly, the head that had just been ruffled leaned in close. Before Qin Duoye could process it, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder.
Damn it! He is biting me again! What a lunatic!
Qin Duoye’s sympathy vanished instantly, replaced by sheer irritation.
A kid this big is such a pain in the neck!
Wait, why did I just include myself in that insult? Ahhhhh!
Struggling with a burst of strength, he broke free from the grip on his wrist, counter-grabbed Qin Xuanxiao’s hand, and shoved him hard, pinning him down onto the couch.
Furious and itching with annoyance as he pinned the emperor down, Qin Duoye hissed, “Qin Xuanxiao, are you part dog?”
Instead of being angry, Qin Xuanxiao simply let Qin Duoye hold him down against the bed and burst into hearty laughter.
“You are still laughing!” Qin Duoye fumed. He pulled back his collar to reveal the bite marks on his shoulder and neck, pointing at them accusatorily while raising a fist in threat. “One, two, three, the marks have not even faded yet! Bite me again and I will beat you.”
Qin Xuanxiao’s gaze followed Qin Duoye’s finger as it lingered over the three uneven bite marks, finally rising to lock back into those dark, ink-like eyes. He spoke softly,
“Beloved minister, do not deceive me.”
Qin Duoye paused, lowered his fist, pulled the emperor back up, and locked eyes with him to reply solemnly, “I will not betray you, Your Majesty.”
Because I, too, carry the surname Qin.
As night fell, the candles inside the Changzhang Hall burned silently.
The Changzhang Hall was where Qin Xuanxiao customarily handled state affairs.
It was located very close to the late Emperor Chengli’s administrative quarters, the Qinzheng Hall, yet he preferred to avoid the place where Emperor Chengli had breathed his last.
“Come here and grind the ink for me.”
Qin Duoye paid no mind to the remark at first, until the quiet persisted and he looked up to see Qin Xuanxiao staring straight at him. He blinked in surprise. “Me?”
“Mhm.”
“Huh? Is that not usually Gou Hongyang’s job?”
“He is busy.” Qin Xuanxiao flicked his finger. Gou Hongyang, who had been waiting nearby, immediately backed out of the hall.
Qin Duoye watched Qin Xuanxiao’s petty maneuver with his own eyes. “…Your Majesty, I am not blind.”
“Come here and grind the ink. I will not say it a third time.” Qin Xuanxiao’s tone deepened.
Ah, the possessive control freak of an emperor.
Qin Duoye walked over, stood beside the dragon writing desk, picked up the vermillion ink stick, and began to grind it finely in the inkstone.
“Someone, fetch a stool for Minister Wen.”
Gou Hongyang slipped back inside from the doorway. Seeing Qin Duoye staring at him, he looked inexplicably guilty, quickly placed the stool down, lowered his head, and hurried back out.
Qin Duoye did not stand on ceremony. Without waiting for Qin Xuanxiao to speak, he gracefully seated himself on the stool and resumed grinding the ink.
Qin Xuanxiao read through memorials with the exact same expression he wore when looking at everyone else like they owed him money: furrowed brow, fixed glare upon the documents, followed by a cold scoff before flipping through a stack of memorials to select five or six and flicking them down toward the hall floor. With a rustle, the documents scattered everywhere.
Qin Xuanxiao’s voice was icy. “None of you know when to give up, do you? Someone, strip these lords who are so concerned for the realm of their official robes and throw them into the Ministry of Punishments.”
“Is that another batch urging you to select consorts and establish an empress?” Qin Duoye finally spoke up.
Qin Xuanxiao raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the seemingly bored man beside him. “Minister Wen understands me well.”
Qin Duoye met his gaze with unruffled calm.
“You are not going to lecture me about how this move is improper, are you?” Qin Xuanxiao narrowed his eyes in caution.
“No,” Qin Duoye shook his head. If it were the old him, he probably would have argued against it. But after his trip outside the palace, especially following his conversation with Liu Xuanhai, he understood that the clamor behind selecting consorts and establishing an empress had nothing to do with what the courtiers claimed as considerations for the stability of the state.
He knew that anyone bold enough to openly submit such memorials after the emperor had made his fury so clear was simply challenging imperial authority.
“Killing a chicken to frighten the monkeys is necessary,” Qin Duoye said.
Qin Xuanxiao suddenly found the person beside him delightfully agreeable.
Just as he was about to say more, Gou Hongyang hurried in to report, “Your Majesty, the Director of the Astronomical Bureau requests an audience.”