Night fell. The warm glow of gilded palace lanterns filtered through the window paper of the Drunk Immortal Pavilion. If one sat in a boat on the Willow River and glanced over from afar, the pavilion looked as though it were draped in a hazy halo, easy to lose oneself in if gazed at for too long.
This was, after all, the most famous restaurant in Hancheng.
Standing four stories tall, the Drunk Immortal Pavilion featured flying eaves, dougong bracket sets, and intricately carved beams and painted pillars. Its interior decoration was exceedingly luxurious, with countless gold pieces and pearls embedded in the walls, dazzling to the eyes.
Incense burners were placed in the four corners of the hall. Wisps of blue smoke curled upward, releasing a fragrance striking just the right balance—neither overpowering nor bland—wrapping the entire room in a rich, languid atmosphere.
In the secluded suite on the top floor, the Prince of Hanmo leaned lazily against a soft couch. His dark brocade robe was loosely tied with a jade belt, leaving a large expanse of his clean chest bare—unmarred by the ravages of wind and sand. He wore a listless, drowsy expression.
Strangely enough, the space immediately around him was completely empty.
In contrast, the person sitting opposite him was a completely different story.
Though the man dressed in proper scholarly attire was not as casual as the prince, his demeanor was extraordinary. Curled up on either side of him were two dancing girls with silk veils covering their faces. One fed him grapes imported from the Western Regions, while the other used a silver spoon to scoop chilled dairy pudding from an agate cup, waiting quietly. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against the corner of his lips, wiping away the damp traces of grape juice.
“Tsk, what a hypocrite dressed in human clothing,” the Prince of Hanmo muttered, curling his lip, finding it utterly unbearable to watch.
Dressed so impeccably yet acting so dissolute—aside from Prince Li Yan of Hanmo, who in this room would even recognize Gongsun Lin, the son of the Minister of Punishments?
The Prince of Hanmo said indifferently, “You really know how to put on an act.”
Gongsun Lin did not care about his sarcasm at all. “Why don’t you go spend some time in Zhongzhou? Before your backside even touched the restaurant bench, Han Pei used a single memorial to strip you of your official robes from head to toe. Hah, it was utterly thrilling.”
The Prince of Hanmo had heard at least a little about the tense situation currently gripping Zhongzhou.
Ever since the General of Northern Pacification was assassinated and went missing, the imperial court in Zhongzhou had undergone a complete transformation.
Discarding his past obsequious and sycophantic demeanor as a petty villain, Han Pei spoke righteously to the emperor about his reform policies: massively cutting redundant officials and surplus staff to reduce the Ministry of Revenue’s expenditures and prepare financial resources for war; overturning the prosperous era of civil officials of the past to widely recruit elite soldiers across the realm and prepare military forces for war.
The Prince of Hanmo finished the fragrant aged wine in his crystal cup, his eyes sweeping across the table full of delicacies. He had long since lost interest in the food, so he turned instead to pick up a lychee and said, “Your Gongsun family has always remained neutral. What’s this? Are you now planning to side with Gong Qun’s faction?”
Gongsun Lin raised a hand to stop the dancing girl leaning against him, suddenly turning solemn. “I am not taking sides. Nor do I care for the ways of those old stubborn fools in Gong Qun’s faction. Each of them throws their official weight around, relying on the fact that they can recite a few volumes of sages’ teachings, turning their noses up at the sky.
“However, Han Pei’s reforms are far too radical. To fully implement them in a short period of time will inevitably shake the foundations of the Great Xuan Dynasty.”
The Prince of Hanmo pointed out with clinical precision, “Then what do you expect him to do? According to scouts’ reports, the nineteen northern tribes are stirring restlessly. Qi Jianfang’s campaign was bitterly fought, and the world assumed the nineteen tribes had been dealt a fatal blow with nothing left to overturn. Therefore, who could have guessed they kept a reserve force and didn’t throw their entire army into the fray? Now that the enemy is regrouping and Qi Jianfang’s fate remains unknown, once a war breaks out and the border is lost, more than five million miles of northern territory will inevitably be handed over on a silver platter.
“When that happens, whether my Hancheng can even be preserved will be a question!
“Otherwise, why do you think my cheap older brother values Han Pei so much? The new emperor has no other talent, but recognizing the situation clearly is his greatest specialty.”
Gongsun Lin was left speechless and remained silent.
Inside the room, the pipa continued to play, its notes shifting high and low, making the atmosphere even more desolate and bizarre.
“Stop playing,” Gongsun Lin said, a wave of annoyance washing over him as he frowned. “Everyone out.”
The musicians quietly retreated, and the dancing girls were all driven away by Gongsun Lin.
He had originally wanted to drink and relax, but he could only blame his own loose tongue for bringing up such an irritating topic.
The Prince of Hanmo shifted from a propped-up posture to sitting upright, waving a hand as he said, “Alright, stop looking so gloomy, you’re going to scare people. Anyone who didn’t know better would think Great Xuan was about to perish…”
Gongsun Lin shot a sharp glare at Li Yan.
“Uh…” The Prince of Hanmo patted his own mouth three times before Gongsun Lin finally withdrew his gaze.
Tsk. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
The Prince of Hanmo asked, “When do you plan to return to Zhongzhou?”
“Dragging it out a few more days. Until I find Qi Jianfang’s remains, I’ll be punished whether I return early or late, so I might as well hide out a bit longer.”
“Fine then,” Li Yan slowly stood up, brushed off nonexistent dust from his body, and lifted his collar to sniff it. “Drink by yourself. I need to go change my clothes and go appease my person.”
“Oh? No wonder you haven’t wanted beauties to accompany you when drinking lately. So you’ve hidden a beauty in a golden house,” Gongsun Lin narrowed his eyes with a mischievous smile. “I haven’t seen his face yet. Let me take a look tomorrow…”
“No,” Li Yan cast a cold glance at him. “Don’t even think about it. That precious person of mine suffered severe injuries and only managed to get his health back with great difficulty. I even have to ask permission in advance just to see him.”
Withdrawing his previous casual demeanor, Li Yan allowed a trace of imperial majesty to show, enough to frighten anyone. He pointed a slender, knobby finger at Gongsun Lin and said, “You can do whatever you like elsewhere in Hancheng, but you are not permitted to harbor any designs on this person.
“Don’t make things unpleasant for this king.”
Yun Zhensong sat down, panting heavily, with both hands on his hips, too exhausted to string a coherent sentence together.
Qi Jianfang had arrived early today, and when he pushed the door open to enter, he caught sight of this exact scene, giving him a mild shock.
“What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, you’re… you’ve come.” Yun Zhensong panted heavily. “I’m… I’m fine, just exercising.”
“Exercising?” Qi Jianfang closed the door tightly behind him and walked closer.
Only then did Yun Zhensong clearly see what Qi Jianfang was wearing today.
His dark everyday garments were sharply tailored, yet they could not conceal the tight fabric across his shoulders and back, which concealed immense power. He raised an arm to smooth down Yun Zhensong’s back, his sleeves outlining the firm lines of his biceps. As Qi Jianfang stepped close, Yun Zhensong could feel the lean and straight contours of his waist and abdomen beneath his belt.
It had been a long time since he last saw Heke dressed so handsomely.
The candlelight on the elm square table cast a golden halo around him, rendering his jawline clear and smooth. His slightly raised posture made the tendons in his neck faintly visible, and as he spoke, the Adam’s apple above his collar bobbed up and down, looking so sexy that Yun Zhensong swallowed hard.
Suddenly, Qi Jianfang bent down and thrust his face right in front of Yun Zhensong. That strikingly handsome face abruptly invaded Yun Zhensong’s vision: his browbones were like stone, his pupils like ice, and his thin lips were pressed into a stern, hard line. Decades of wind and sun had weathered his wheat-colored skin, leaving it no longer baby-smooth but marked by the traces of time.
His appearance was by no means conventionally handsome in a worldly sense; even when casually glancing at someone, he could unconsciously generate a biting chill.
Yet Yun Zhensong simply harbored an intense, irrepressible physiological attraction toward someone with such a disposition.
Seeing Qi Jianfang frown, he raised a hand and heavily cupped Yun Zhensong’s forehead. The calluses covering his thumbs and forefingers from long years of holding weapons tickled Yun Zhensong.
“Yun Zhensong?” Qi Jianfang spoke again. “Can you hear what I’m saying? Is your health alright? Why is your face getting hot?”
Yun Zhensong finally snapped back to reality. He hadn’t heard a single word of what Qi Jianfang had just said.
“Cough.” Yun Zhensong feigned composure. “It’s nothing. Just did a few sit-ups and planks, expended a bit of stamina.”
Qi Jianfang didn’t understand what he was talking about, but he didn’t press further.
“My body is too weak. If I don’t exercise anymore, I’ll really become useless.”
Qi Jianfang raised an eyebrow. “You want to exercise? I can teach you a few self-defense moves and swordsmanship.”
Yun Zhensong’s face lit up with joy. “Alright!” With a fitness coach with a body like that, would he ever have to worry about being lazy?
As Qi Jianfang spoke, he reached up to roll up his sleeves, startling Yun Zhensong into quickly grabbing his wrist in a panic. “Let’s-let’s skip it for today. I just finished working out, I have no energy left.”
“As you say.” Qi Jianfang cast an inadvertent downward glance at the hand Yun Zhensong had placed on his wrist, but made no move to pull away. “You lack a well-matched sword. I’ll forge one for you tomorrow.”
“Mm!” There was his token of love right there!
The two drank tea and chatted idly for a little while longer before Yun Zhensong began to grow drowsy. Qi Jianfang naturally took off his outer garment, wearing only a plain under-tunic as he lay down on the outer edge of the bed. He stretched his arm inward, resting it across the pillow, and said, “Come over here and sleep.”
The bed was not very long, and Qi Jianfang could barely stretch his legs out fully. Biting his lip, Yun Zhensong tiptoed carefully across him, slipped under the covers in a flash, and lay on his side facing away. He tensed his shoulders, avoiding resting the full weight of his head directly on Qi Jianfang’s arm, afraid of making it go numb.
“Oh right, you’re well-traveled. Do you know which nearby counties or towns are wealthy? I’m planning to buy a batch of livestock and raise them so everyone can eat meat in the future, and borrow some grain along the way. Somehow, we have to hold out until the autumn harvest.”
Qi Jianfang pondered for a long moment and answered concisely, “Hancheng, the fief of the Prince of Hanmo—filthily rich.”
Li Yan had lived in Zhongzhou for a period during his childhood, and by a twist of fate, Qi Jianfang had once saved his life. Back then, Li Yan completely idolized “Big Brother Qi,” running after him day in and day out, impossible to shake off and terribly clingy.
Later on, Qi Jianfang went off to fight wars. Within a few years, Li Yan’s birth mother passed away, and he was immediately granted a fief, leaving Zhongzhou and never returning.
The two hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, and Qi Jianfang had long forgotten what the other looked like, let alone what kind of profligate, dissolute young dandy Li Yan had become.
Sensing that Yun Zhensong was still deep in thought, Qi Jianfang sighed.
“Why are you sighing again?!” Yun Zhensong reacted instantly, turning his head slightly with a puzzled look.
“What are you thinking about?”
“When are we setting off in a few days?”
“Three days.”
“Just like that?”
“Three days is enough.” The arm trapped beneath Yun Zhensong’s head suddenly flexed with force. With an involuntary gasp, Yun Zhensong was pulled solidly into Qi Jianfang’s embrace, pressing his back tightly against the latter’s chest. Qi Jianfang rested his chin on Yun Zhensong’s soft hair while his other arm pinned Yun Zhensong’s shoulder, denying him any chance to prop his head up with his shoulders.
“Lie down properly.”
The next morning, Yun Zhensong’s subconscious told him to wake up early at least before Qi Jianfang got up. Last time, when he opened his eyes, the space beside him was already neat and tidy, even the bedding completely cold.
Yun Zhensong suffered from severe separation anxiety, so he was determined to witness with his own eyes how Qi Jianfang sat up, put on his shoes, and left this room while he was fully awake.
Fortunately, when Yun Zhensong opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Qi Jianfang’s chin, covered in light morning stubble.
Qi Jianfang’s breathing was deep and steady; one could tell at a glance that he was still fast asleep. The corners of Yun Zhensong’s mouth curled up as he gazed at him with lingering fondness. On a sudden impulse, he reached out a finger and scratched and pinched the palm of Qi Jianfang’s hand, which lay flat beside him.