In the autumn of the fourth year of the Qingyuan era, cold rain tapped against the carriage windows, falling in an endless, unbroken drizzle.
The wheels rolled over the wet blue gray flagstones, producing a monotonous creaking sound.
Although the interior of the carriage had been lined with thick brocade cushions, they were still unable to keep out the chill that seeped into his bones, one thread at a time.
Li Ti leaned weakly against the carriage window, his pale hand digging deep into his lower abdomen, which was tightening in violent spasms.
It felt as though a hand were viciously churning the inside of his abdominal cavity. Cold sweat had long since soaked through his underclothes, leaving the fabric icy and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. Gradually, the pain became so unbearable that he doubled over, burying his face in the soft pillow beside him and biting down hard on the brocade.
A muffled groan was crushed in his throat, escaping only in faint fragments before being swallowed by the relentless sound of the rain outside.
…
The journey to the capital, Shangjing, had already lasted more than a month, and the tormenting pain had followed him like a shadow throughout the entire journey, leaving him increasingly gaunt and emaciated.
“Your Highness, it’s time to take your medicine.”
Li Ti kept his eyes closed and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His throat felt painfully tight, and he no longer even had the strength to speak.
In his hazy, half conscious state, he drifted into a brief dream.
It was late spring in the Southern Border.
The wild peach grove on the back mountain of the prince’s residence was in full bloom, its blossoms spreading like clouds of rosy sunset across the hillside. Whenever the wind passed through the trees, petals fluttered down in a gentle shower, carpeting the ground in shades of rouge. He lay among the fallen blossoms, the sunlight filtering through the interwoven branches above and bathing him in such warmth that even his bones seemed to soften and melt.
A warm hand rested ever so lightly against his lower abdomen, moving in slow, gentle circles.
The palm pressed comfortably against him, its strength perfectly measured, as though it could truly knead away the twisting pain, gradually soothing it until not even a trace remained.
“Does it hurt again?” A low voice sounded right beside his ear. “Bear with it a little longer. It’ll be better soon.”
Back then, the poison in his body had not yet penetrated nearly as deeply as it would in the years that followed.
He only remembered that he had been too lazy even to open his eyes. The sweet fragrance of peach blossoms lingered beneath his nose, mingling with the faint scent of incense clinging to the other man’s robes. His abdominal pain had been relatively mild then, and after that person gently rubbed his abdomen a few times, the discomfort would truly begin to fade, little by little, until it disappeared.
“Jingzhao.”
That was the name the man used to address him by.
He opened his eyes and found himself gazing directly into a pair of smiling, peach blossom eyes. The light of late spring slipped through the gaps between the blossoms, settling in those eyes and stirring ripples of intoxicating amber. They were so gentle that, for a moment, he could scarcely believe what he was seeing.
“Li Jingzhao, if we’re together, we’ll surely be able to stay together for a long, long time…”
Every word of that honey sweet vow was steeped in the fragrance of peach blossoms. It had been so easy to believe, so effortless to trust,
To believe that the person he loved could cross mountains and seas for him. To believe that the days they spent together would never come to an end.
Suddenly, the carriage wheels rolled violently over a deep rut in the road, causing the entire carriage to lurch violently.
Li Ti slid off the soft cushions, his forehead striking the window frame with a heavy thud. His lower abdomen was pressed directly against the very spot where the pain was most unbearable.
A chaotic burst of light exploded before his eyes, and his vision blurred almost immediately as moisture gathered in them.
He lay bent over on the cold floor, his fingers digging desperately into the intricate patterns woven into the brocade cushions until his knuckles turned deathly white. A short, breathy sound rose from his throat, sounding almost like a laugh, yet resembling even more the mournful cry of someone whose throat had been mercilessly strangled.
He was laughing at himself for having actually believed those words back then.
He had believed in the warmth of those hands. He had believed in the promise that they would remain together for a long, long time. He had believed in those eyes beneath the peach blossoms of late spring, eyes filled with such tenderness that he had never once suspected the lies concealed within them!
Li Ti clenched his teeth tightly and buried his face deep in the crook of his arm.
His shoulders trembled. At first, the shaking was slight, barely more than a faint shiver, but gradually it spread until he could no longer keep his entire back from convulsing. He did not cry aloud. He merely bit down hard on his lower lip, so fiercely that the metallic taste of blood began to spread throughout his mouth.
His breathing, suppressed to the very limit, broke apart into fragmented, intermittent sobs that escaped one after another.
It had all been… a lie.
The carriage was empty and silent. He was the only person inside.
That hand, that brilliant sea of peach blossoms, and even the warm sunlight of that day had all vanished.
Only this pain remained. With every convulsion, it cruelly tore the details he had desperately tried to bury from the depths of his memory, dragging them back into the light, scene by scene, whether he wanted to remember them or not.
At first, he had merely been fulfilling his duty as a host.
As the heir to Prince Jing of the Southern Border, he had courteously entertained the seventeenth prince, His Highness Jiang Yunnian, who had recently been exiled south by his imperial elder brother after falling out of favor.
He had never imagined that the seventeenth prince would share his own passions for music and chess.
During a discussion of music at a banquet, Jiang Yunnian had casually plucked the strings of an instrument and played The Cranes Cry in the Deep Marshes. The clear, soaring melody had risen toward the clouds, leaving Li Ti so astonished that he had been rendered speechless.
Their chess matches had been equally intense, with neither side willing to concede defeat. They had fought back and forth across the board until it was impossible to determine who held the advantage, leaving Li Ti with the rare and wonderful feeling that he had finally encountered someone he had known for a lifetime, despite having only just met him.
A true kindred spirit was difficult to find. Reluctant to let such a rare companion leave, Li Ti had warmly invited Jiang Yunnian to stay a little longer.
It did not take long for him to discover that although the seventeenth prince appeared carefree, dissolute, and unconstrained by convention, he was, in truth, perceptive, composed, and remarkably astute.
With nothing more than a casual glance through the mountain of case files Li Ti had been struggling to work through, Jiang Yunnian could identify the crucial points hidden among the smallest clues and expose the heart of an injustice with just a few sentences.
When he accompanied Li Ti on inspections of the countryside, he would stand beside the field ridges and chat casually with elderly farmers. He showed none of the aloofness or condescension one might expect from an imperial prince of noble birth. Instead, he asked about grain prices and tax burdens, demonstrating a genuine understanding of the people’s hardships and concerns.
Later, when Li Ti encountered bandits during an inspection, an arrow came flying through the air. It was Jiang Yunnian who threw himself forward and knocked Li Ti to the ground, shielding him from danger.
Blood soaked half of Jiang Yunnian’s sleeve, yet he still managed to smile at Li Ti and say, “As long as Your Highness is unharmed, that’s all that matters.”
During the days Jiang Yunnian spent recovering from his injuries, the two of them found themselves talking late into the night more often than ever before.
Beneath the wavering candlelight, Jiang Yunnian would sometimes lower his guard and speak openly about the bitterness and resentment he felt at being suspected and undermined by his elder brother, about his ambitions reduced to empty dreams, and about the unwillingness that gnawed at him when he thought of everything he had lost.
Li Ti had never held the man sitting on the imperial throne in high regard to begin with. Naturally, hearing Jiang Yunnian’s troubles only made him feel an even deeper sense of kinship with the other man. Their shared grievances and mutual understanding drew them closer, allowing them to recognize in one another a kindred spirit who understood the burdens they carried.
After that, the two of them continued to join hands and face one challenge after another.
Political decrees obstructed at every turn, rebellions among the border population, and countless other troubles…
Through every storm and every hardship, they stood side by side, advancing together and weathering every trial as partners who refused to abandon one another.
The feelings that had quietly taken root between them spread like spring grass, growing more luxuriant with every passing day until neither of them could suppress them any longer.
He still remembered the day they finally confessed their feelings to each other. The peach blossoms were in full bloom, and from that day onward, Jiang Yunnian’s tenderness and thoughtfulness became even more meticulous, permeating every aspect of their lives.
Often, all Li Ti had to do was cough once before a bowl of medicinal soup would already be warming on the table beside him. Even when he stayed up late into the night reviewing official documents, a suitable midnight snack would always be waiting quietly nearby. The ink sticks he habitually used, the books he liked to read, and even the chronic ailment that had left him unusually sensitive to the cold for so many years… Every little detail, no matter how insignificant it might have seemed to anyone else, was carefully remembered and attended to by that man.
How could he possibly have avoided falling in love?
And at the time, was he really the only one who had fallen?
The entire household had been deceived as well. By the time he finally summoned enough courage to kneel before his parents and confess his feelings, declaring that he would have no one but Jiang Yunnian, his father remained silent for a long time. His mother wiped the corners of her eyes before finally letting out a soft sigh.
“You’ve always been strong minded since childhood… Very well. A person is fortunate to encounter true love even once in this lifetime.”
Before long, his mother was already holding Jiang Yunnian’s hand affectionately, saying, “With you looking after Ti’er, I can finally put my mind at ease.”
His father, too, began treating Jiang Yunnian as though he were half a son of his own. Whenever military or political matters were discussed, he would casually remark, “He’s one of our own. There’s no harm in letting him listen.”
Even Li Ti’s younger brother would pester his “Seventeenth Brother” to teach him horseback riding and archery, while his younger sister secretly embroidered matching pairs of scented sachets for the two of them.
Gradually, throughout the entire Southern Border, everyone came to know that the man known as “Mr. Seventeen,” who was always by the heir’s side, had already been openly accepted by the family as his beloved. From the cities to the villages, people everywhere offered their blessings to this perfectly matched couple.
The peach blossoms bloomed and withered, only to bloom again.
And then?
Then came the leak of the Southern Border’s military supply routes. The border defense maps appeared in the hands of enemy spies. One impeachment after another flooded the capital, accusing Prince Jing’s household of “amassing troops and defying imperial authority” and “harboring treasonous ambitions.” Along with those accusations came wave after wave of filthy slander directed at Li Ti himself,
They claimed he had secretly colluded with the enemy. They accused him of cruelly abusing the people under his jurisdiction. Some even alleged that he had used evil sorcery and witchcraft to manipulate the minds of the people of the Southern Border.
And that was not even mentioning… the poison that had completely destroyed his health and dignity, ravaging his insides and leaving him a shadow of the person he had once been!
Everything he had spent half his life building, his ideals, his reputation, his health, his military authority, the trust of the people, and the support of his family, was like a towering mansion being dismantled piece by piece. Its beams tilted, its pillars collapsed, and every brick and tile came crashing down until the entire structure disintegrated in an instant.
Yet there he stood, surrounded by rising dust and the ruins of everything he had once possessed, still looking around in bewilderment, unable to understand where the disaster had begun.
Of course, he knew that someone had been scheming meticulously to destroy him.
He had suspected every single person around him, yet he had never once suspected the man who shared his pillow.
When the censorial official arrived carrying a confidential letter to verify the accusations, Li Ti had been given a chance to prove his innocence. All he needed to do was hand over the documents that Jiang Yunnian had handled, and the evidence would have been enough to clear his name.
Yet, like a fool, he had chosen to protect Jiang Yunnian instead.
He had personally thrown those very documents into the brazier, watching them burn to ashes with his own hands.
He had destroyed his final opportunity to prove his innocence himself…
The excruciating pain suddenly tightened around his abdomen again, twisting viciously as though an invisible hand were wrenching his insides apart.
Li Ti abruptly curled into himself, pressing his forehead hard against the cold carriage wall. Desperately, he tried to breathe the way he remembered doing back then: slowly and deeply, forcing each breath to descend into the very depths of the pain…
“Jingzhao, when it hurts, just breathe like this.”
It was he who had personally planted the gu poison in Li Ti’s body, yet he was also the one who had taught him how to breathe to relieve the pain!!!
How utterly absurd, and how utterly vicious!
A low laugh escaped Li Ti’s throat, hoarse and broken.
As he continued laughing, his vision was once again swallowed by a haze of crimson, as though a blood red mist had risen before his eyes.
The carriage continued to jolt along the road, its wheels crushing the rain soaked peach blossoms and fallen leaves scattered across the ground. In the distant haze of the autumn rain, the towering outline of the capital was slowly coming into view.
…
He had finally arrived in the capital.
By the time the carriage entered Vermilion Bird Avenue, dusk had settled heavily over the city.
In the fading light, the distant palace walls gleamed with a cold, blue gray hue, stretching across the horizon like an imposing barrier between heaven and earth.
Li Ti gritted his teeth and summoned every last ounce of strength to straighten his back, inch by painstaking inch. His fingertips dug deep into the brocade cushions, twisting the fabric into a mess of distorted, ugly creases. He held his breath, allowing the bone deep, twisting agony to rage unchecked within his abdomen,
No matter how much it hurt, he had to hold his head high and maintain the bearing befitting the heir to Prince Jing of the Southern Border.
This was his first time appearing before the emperor.
For decades, the Southern Border had lain thousands of miles away from the capital, separated from the imperial heartland by towering mountain passes and formidable barriers. The emperor’s authority had always seemed distant, as though the heavens themselves stood between him and the people of the south.
Moreover, the Li family had guarded the southern frontier for generations. Their roots ran deep, their troops were well trained and their granaries well stocked. They collected and managed taxes within their own territory, and their prestige among the local population was extraordinarily high.
For several generations, the members of the prince’s household had grown accustomed to the climate, customs, and daily rhythms of life in the Southern Border. As for the ruler seated within Zichen Hall, thousands of miles away, they had long since reduced their respect for him to little more than a matter of formal etiquette. In reality, no one from their household had traveled to the capital to report on their administration for decades.
The majesty of the imperial court had long since become a vague and distant concept to them.
And compared with Li Ti himself, who had once commanded thousands of miles of fertile land in the Southern Border, where the people under his governance knew the heir to Prince Jing but scarcely knew the emperor, the man sitting upon the Dragon Throne was…
Merely the Ninth Prince, who had fortuitously seized the throne four years ago after the brutal struggle for succession among the imperial princes had left nearly every contender battered and weakened.
His birth was humble, and his maternal family possessed no real influence. When he had hurriedly ascended the throne, the court had been filled with deeply entrenched old ministers and powerful imperial relatives who watched him with undisguised ambition. More often than not, his decrees sank into oblivion as soon as they left Zichen Hall, never to be implemented.
An emperor with such shallow foundations could hardly command the genuine respect of even the court’s most prominent ministers.
How could Li Ti possibly have taken him seriously?
Thus, when the emperor issued an edict to reform the tax system, intending to place the tax revenues of all the provinces under the centralized management of the Ministry of Revenue, Li Ti simply ignored it when the decree reached the Southern Border.
Likewise, when the imperial court sought to consolidate military authority by establishing military commissioners to oversee the armies throughout the empire, he merely set the proposal aside with an indifferent expression. He could not even be bothered to draft a perfunctory memorial offering some excuse for his noncompliance.
After being repeatedly defied by Li Ti, the emperor’s words had gradually changed. What had begun as gentle persuasion had turned into stern reprimands, until, eventually, he even wrote directly in an imperial letter:
“You command the Southern Border, with well trained troops, abundant provisions, and a population of ten thousand who know the heir to Prince Jing but not their emperor. Do you still acknowledge my existence at all?”
No.
Of course he didn’t.
Whenever the emperor questioned him, his answer was always something along the lines of, “The situation along the frontier is complicated. I beg Your Majesty to allow this subject time to investigate it thoroughly.”
Or, “The military affairs of the Southern Border are unique, and I fear they cannot be handled according to a single, uniform policy.”
And then he would continue enjoying his splendid life in the Southern Border, basking in the wholehearted support of the people.
On one particularly merry occasion, after drinking until he was pleasantly intoxicated, he had even picked up his brush and casually composed two lines of poetry,
“The imperial palace, ninefold deep, lies shrouded in cold mist;
It cannot rival the spring of a single corner of the Southern Border.”
Every word was wantonly arrogant. It was practically an act of throwing the emperor’s dignity and authority onto the ground and trampling them beneath his feet!
But at the time, Li Ti had indeed possessed the capital to be so haughty and insolent.
Under his administration, the Southern Border’s granaries were full, its streets and markets prosperous, and merchants and travelers passed along its roads in an endless stream. The people lived in peace and contentment, and the frontier had remained free of major wars for years. Everywhere one looked, there was wealth, tranquility, and prosperity.
Li Ti had taken power at a young age, and his abilities were exceptional. He enjoyed the deep affection of the people, so it was hardly surprising that he had become proud and arrogant.
In private, he had not infrequently entertained the reckless thought that the man sitting on the Dragon Throne was nothing more than a puppet with shallow foundations. As long as he could keep the Southern Border peaceful and refrain from rebelling against the emperor, he was already showing the man an extraordinary degree of respect.
And yet…
In a mere four years, everything had been turned upside down.
The new emperor had swept through the imperial court with the force of a thunderstorm, elevating men of humble origins while suppressing the powerful aristocratic clans. Before long, he had firmly gathered the scattered strands of imperial authority into his own hands.
Meanwhile, Li Ti, who had once enjoyed boundless glory, now watched as his military power was gradually eroded and divided, his reputation as a virtuous and capable ruler dragged through the mud, and his own body reduced to a sickly shell ravaged by poison.
Now, after traveling thousands of miles to the capital, he had come to bow his head before the emperor, pleading for a single thread of hope that might save his crumbling family.
Ever since his own reputation had been utterly ruined, the entire Prince Jing household had been dragged down with him, its power collapsing like an avalanche.
Thanks to the Li family’s century of service guarding the frontier, they had been spared the revocation of their princely title and had retained the outward trappings of noble dignity. In reality, however, their gates had grown cold and deserted, their influence had dwindled dramatically, and the splendor they once possessed had been reduced to an empty title.
As if that were not enough, two months ago, disaster struck again.
His second and third younger brothers had accompanied their father on official business outside the city when they became embroiled in a confrontation with an imperial inspector dispatched by the court.
In truth, the inspector had deliberately provoked them. During their exchange, he repeatedly brought up Li Ti’s past “crimes” and mocked the Prince Jing household for now doing nothing more than “clinging desperately to the remnants of its former glory.” His words had been exceptionally vile and insulting.
Li Ti’s third younger brother was young and hot tempered. Unable to endure the insults any longer, he stepped forward to argue with the inspector. During the ensuing pushing and shoving, the inspector accidentally slipped, struck the back of his head heavily against a stone marker beside the street, and succumbed to his injuries that very night.
What should have been an unfortunate accident was deliberately exaggerated by those with ulterior motives into a heinous crime: “The Li family of the Southern Border, relying on their military power, have dared to murder an imperial official!”
His father and both younger brothers were immediately seized and placed under arrest, then escorted to the capital.
Li Ti had submitted one memorial of apology after another, each written with the utmost sincerity. Yet now, it was the emperor who ignored him.
He had no choice but to travel to the capital himself and plead his case before the throne.
Naturally, he understood better than anyone what awaited him when he went before the emperor to beg for mercy. Given the new emperor’s hatred of him, what sort of mockery, humiliation, and perhaps even more degrading treatment would he have to endure?
But he had accepted it.
If willingly lowering himself, crawling at the emperor’s feet in submission, and allowing the sovereign to trample upon his dignity could alleviate even a little of the hatred the emperor had harbored for him over the years, then he would do it.
After all, this body of his, hollowed out by poison and eaten away by regret, probably would not last more than a few years anyway.
For the sake of his family, he was willing to humble himself and bow his head.
He was willing to do anything.
Author’s Note
One more warning!!! The author’s personal values are not necessarily reflected in the values portrayed in this novel, and the plot does not represent the author’s personal values either. It reflects nothing more than my personal tastes + a rather bizarre version of them.
And one more warning!!! The novel description already makes it clear that you need to strike a wooden fish while reading to keep your head straight before you can enjoy the pairing. Enter at your own risk! This is niche, indulgent content meant to deliver the twisted pleasure of enjoying something deeply immoral and distorted. In short, proceed with caution! Anyone who is particular about moral values, character purity, or strict control over certain themes should stay far away. =.=!
The story is primarily told from the gong’s perspective. Only Chapter One is narrated from the shou’s perspective. I’m a complete amateur.
And, as is traditional, I’ll be randomly giving out little red envelopes to readers who leave comments. Don’t forget to leave a heart!