The moment the thought of being exposed crossed his mind, Yan Zhiyu panicked.
He knew his personality wasn’t particularly pleasant, so ever since he got together with Ling Lie, he had never once revealed his true self.
That accidental first meeting had allowed him to leave a positive impression in Ling Lie’s mind through a stroke of coincidence. Therefore, whenever they met afterward, he always put on a bit of a front, not wanting to shatter that good image. When he later decided to marry Ling Lie, he began learning how to act like a gentle, virtuous, and demure ge’er.
As the youngest son of the Yan family, who had never lifted a finger to do heavy labor since childhood, he had spent his early years studying the Four Books and Five Classics, mastering the arts of zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. However, in almost every other practical aspect, he could be said to be completely clueless.
Take cooking, for instance, a skill most ge’ers mastered effortlessly. He was utterly in the dark. The very first time he stepped into the kitchen in his teens, he nearly burned the place down. Yet, through endless practice, his culinary skills eventually grew to rival those of the imperial chefs.
Or take embroidery, an art form practiced by most ge’ers to some degree. He couldn’t even thread a needle at first, and the first time he tried to embroider a handkerchief, he poked his fingertips so many times he lost count. Through sheer persistence, he practiced until he could hand-sew an entire set of robes, and his embroidery pieces became treasures worth thousands of gold in the capital.
The effort he poured into learning these skills far exceeded what he spent on his books. He did it all simply to project the image of a flawless ge’er in front of Ling Lie and, consequently, become his perfect Crown Prince Consort.
Whenever he was with Ling Lie, not a single trace of his spoiled, willful temper remained. In daily life, he was completely submissive and obedient to him, even paying careful attention to the volume of his voice just to avoid ruining his image.
Yet, after all these years of painstaking cultivation, was it all going to collapse over such an absurd reason?
Most importantly, the person Ling Lie loved was that gentle mask of his. Now that the man knew his true nature, would he still love him?
If Ling Dong really was Ling Lie, then he must undoubtedly know that he had been deceived all along. Why on earth could he still sit here smiling?
Was it because of their son? Or for some other reason?
At this thought, Yan Zhiyu felt his heart clench and twitch with anxiety.
He wasn’t afraid of Ling Lie being angry with him. What he feared was Ling Lie’s heart changing, feared that Ling Lie would no longer like him.
Perhaps because his expression looked truly dreadful, Ling Lie couldn’t help asking, “What is wrong?”
“Nothing.” Yan Zhiyu pressed his lips together, shifting his gaze away awkwardly, and forced himself back to the desk to sit down, though his footsteps felt somewhat unsteady.
He had no idea what kind of facade he should put on anymore.
Naturally, Ling Lie sensed this subtle change in him and called out once more, “Empress Dowager?”
“Hmm?” Yan Zhiyu responded instinctively, his tone lifting at the end, making it sound almost like an interrogation, overbearing to the extreme.
Ling Lie was momentarily stunned. He could clearly feel that the Empress’s attitude toward him had shown signs of thawing like ice melting in spring, so how did trying to coax his son suddenly plunge them back into the dead of winter?
Seeing Ling Lie’s expression, Yan Zhiyu regretted it immediately.
Was he trying to make sure Ling Lie didn’t dislike him enough?
Unwilling to make that mistake again, Yan Zhiyu simply lowered his head to read the memorials. When Ling Lie tried to strike up a conversation along the way, he only replied with a brief “Mhm” or “Okay,” with the longest response being “I know,” so cold and distant it was chilling.
He didn’t want to act this way, but he had no other choice.
Sitting opposite him, Ling Lie held a brush and stared at him, yet he felt not a shred of annoyance. Instead, a very faint, tender smile surfaced as memories stirred in his mind.
Yan Zhiyu had always been like this, sparing with words, yet possessing a heart burning with warmth.
The little master held in the palm of the Yan family’s hands was a ge’er, a fact well known throughout the capital. The coming-of-age banquet was meant to scout for a suitable husband for this prized pearl, which the guests knew as well.
As founding heroes and a generational military lineage deeply trusted by the imperial family, the Yan family commanded immense respect, and no shortage of people wished to curry favor with them. Consequently, most of the unmarried young talents of the capital had attended that day. To demonstrate closeness and importance, his imperial father had naturally attended as well, bringing along his imperial princes.
Amidst several older brothers who were already married or betrothed, he, an imperial prince of similar age and unbetrothed, was brought along.
When the young master appeared at the banquet alongside his family, almost everyone was captivated, and Ling Lie was no exception.
Growing up in the deep palace, he had seen thousands of beauties, yet none matched the striking allure of the young master.
Delicate yet striking, his facial features carried the pristine, translucent purity unique to youth. A pair of clear, limpid peach-blossom eyes looked gentle yet serene, complemented by a simple pea-green gauze robe. Despite the utter simplicity of his attire, it made him look like an immortal who had drifted down into the mortal realm. The slight tilt of his chin carried an air of haughtiness without being arrogant, resembling nothing less than a noble, gorgeous cat, making one want to place him on a soft-cushioned dais and offer him the finest treasures of this world.
Yet the young master disliked noisy crowds and stayed with his family only briefly before leaving, abandoning a sea of infatuated onlookers to secretly scheme about how to approach the family for a marriage proposal.
Ling Lie had been left with an unbearable itch in his heart from that brief appearance, and unable to restrain himself, he had followed behind.
Unfortunately, the Yan family gardens were designed with exquisite complexity, winding and interconnecting like a mini labyrinth. Not daring to tail him too overtly, Ling Lie lost track of the youth within moments. Left wandering in circles and searching blindly in every direction, he finally found him, only to discover the beautiful young master squatting on the ground, crying.
Watching from afar, Ling Lie’s heart ached. How could anyone bear to make such a breathtaking person weep? But knowing neither the person nor the context, he had no idea what to say if he rushed over blindly. After pacing back and forth and scratching his head in agitation for a long while, he finally summoned the courage to walk up and greet him.
From that day onward, the young master took up permanent residence in his heart. The moment he returned to the palace, he begged his imperial father to grant him Yan Zhiyu’s hand in marriage.
At that time, his imperial father’s gaze resembled that of someone looking at a pig about to raid a cabbage patch.
After all, having spent over a decade idling away as a notorious playboy in the capital, he suddenly demanded to marry the apple of the Yan family’s eye. Even if his father were lenient, the Yan family would never agree.
If they wouldn’t agree, that was fine too.
If the Yan family refused, he would simply work harder, competing against his older brothers. After all, the eldest brother was foolish enough that his father had considered deposing the Crown Prince on multiple occasions, meaning he still stood a chance.
If the young master refused, he would work harder still, seizing every possible opportunity to linger in front of him, curry favor, and sooner or later win the beauty over.
Later events proved that his thick-skinned persistence paid off. On the Lantern Festival when the young master turned sixteen, he asked him out to view the lanterns, and the young master agreed.
To make a good impression on that day, he had risen at the crack of dawn, rummaging through every single outfit he owned, picking and trying them on one by one. His imperial concubine mother offered advice from the sidelines, hoping he would secure the Yan family’s backing to help his third brother contend for the position of Crown Prince, while his third brother tossed out snide remarks, practically etching his jealousy over Ling Lie’s prospect of marrying the Yan family’s precious youngest son right across his face.
At the time, he thought to himself that jealousy was entirely justified, for that truly was the finest person in the entire world.
Later, dressed in his meticulously chosen attire, he arrived at the appointed stone bridge. From afar, he spotted the young master standing beneath a tree in brocade robes. Seeing him approach, the youth immediately flashed a shy, blooming smile. Light and shadow intertwined across his face, while the colors shifting in the depths of his eyes resembled a pair of flickering candlelight wicks, so stunningly lovely that for a split second, he envisioned the bridal chamber and a lifetime of growing old together over the next hundred years. By the time he snapped back to his senses, he had already walked over and taken the young master’s hand.
Soft, carrying a faint chill, and remarkably easy to hold.
He must have looked utterly foolish back then, though fortunately he was allowed to be a little foolish, otherwise he might never have mustered the courage to hold the youth’s hand. After all, the sight of the young master lowering his head in shyness was far too adorable; had he tried any bolder advances, he really would have looked like a crude scoundrel.
Later, they walked hand in hand through the bustling crowds. The young master was sparing with his words, leaving him to chatter away endlessly. Whenever an interesting remark caught his attention, the young master would lower his head and smile softly, the corners of his eyes and brows stained with an exceptionally vibrant glow from his amusement, so breathtaking that he would invariably freeze in his tracks, fumble awkwardly to change the subject, and end up looking even more foolish.
As night deepened, he escorted the young master back to his estate. Reluctant to part with him in a thousand different ways, he had half-fantasized about hoisting the youth over his shoulder and carrying him back to the palace. Fearing the guards stationed at the Yan gates might rush forward to beat him up, however, he ultimately settled for asking a lingering, hesitant question: “Can we go out together again next time?”
Hearing his words, the young master had pressed his lips together in a smile, his brows curving into a graceful arc. Without answering a single word, he simply handed over the rabbit lantern he was holding and turned to re-enter the estate, leaving behind a faint, lingering trace of plum blossom fragrance in the air.
Only later did he learn that the young master had also spent a long time selecting his outfit that day, even having it carefully scented with incense before coming to see him.
Yet, dazzled entirely by the sight of the person himself, he had long forgotten what he was wearing at the time, leaving only that subtle, elusive fragrance to linger in his dreams for a long time thereafter.
After their marriage, Yan Zhiyu stopped using it, and the incense burned in their bedchamber was always the blend he habitually used, so he never smelled that plum fragrance again. Fortunately, while that fragrance was precious, it wasn’t completely unobtainable.
“I have prepared a gift to present to the Empress Dowager,” Ling Lie said.
Yan Zhiyu’s hand paused, his raised gaze carrying a complex look. “What is it?”
“A small trinket. I hope the Empress Dowager will not disdain it,” Ling Lie said, pulling a small box from his embrace and handing it to Yan Zhiyu. “Do not be unhappy.”
Yan Zhiyu froze for a moment. Pressing his lips together, he took the box and opened it, revealing several fragrant pills inside.
He looked at Ling Lie with a puzzled expression, hesitated, leaned forward, and sniffed them.
A delicate, elegant fragrance of plum blossoms wafted over. It was the exact scent he had adored before marrying Ling Lie. Later on, because Ling Lie always teased him shamelessly with it, he stopped using it altogether. What on earth was this supposed to imply?
At this thought, Yan Zhiyu’s ears instantly turned crimson.