When they arrived at the Warm Pavilion, Chang Qingqing took off his cloak and asked the attendant in the corridor to hang it up. He changed his shoes, lifted the curtain, and entered. Yan Dong was nestled in a rocking chair, his feet on a rolling stool, with a floral and bird-patterned red lacquer box on his lap, stringing a ring.
Chang Qingqing walked over and said, “I inquired about that Wu Bilin, and as the rumors say—she’s a noble lady with both talent and beauty, nothing particularly noteworthy. But in high society, many have a splendid facade, and if there are any real issues, they are well hidden. As time passes, it becomes harder to investigate.”
“Daring to express her feelings for our heir apparent in front of the Third Prince, can she be an ordinary lady? I think she’s a lunatic,” He Bao came in holding a colorful cloud chariot calendar, speaking bluntly, “She wants the Third Prince to be a cuckold, doesn’t care about her life, and isn’t afraid of implicating her whole family!”
Yan Dong strung the last aquamarine bead, recalling the Third Prince’s demeanor that day, and said, “The Third Prince didn’t seem to mind.”
“Huh?” Chang Qingqing found it quite unbelievable, “After all, they are husband and wife. Even if it was a marriage bestowed by the Empress, and not deeply affectionate, it concerns the royal family’s reputation. Once it spreads…”
“Once it spreads, even our heir apparent will suffer!” He Bao changed the painting, his round face wrinkled with worry.
Yan Dong paused, frowning slightly. He Bao was right; Yan Song, after all, was an external minister. If this matter were to become public, he would suffer silently in terms of reason.
Unable to sit still, he placed the newly made ring into the box, instructed He Bao to send it to Xunfeng Courtyard, and then headed to the Third Prince’s residence.
The attendant led Yan Dong to the main hall, where the Third Prince personally came out to greet him. Yan Dong, impatient with pleasantries, rushed into the adjacent Warm Pavilion. Dong Liu, seeing this, glanced at the Third Prince, who wasn’t angry but merely instructed the attendants not to disturb them, and then followed inside.
The Warm Pavilion was cozy, and Yan Dong, simmering with anger, felt restless. He quickly took off his cloak, revealing a robe with a rosy cloud pattern, personally chosen by Yan Song, and sat down on the couch like a pine and bamboo.
The Third Prince stopped at the door, his gaze pausing for a moment before he walked over to speak, “Who has upset our Spring Festival like this?”
“That day, the four of us rode together… did you notice?” Yan Dong got straight to the point.
The Third Prince raised his hand, and Dong Liu closed the door. He looked at Yan Dong’s back with interest, “What?”
The tone clearly indicated he had noticed, and Yan Dong turned abruptly, annoyed, “Stop pretending!”
The Third Prince tugged at his ear, laughing and scolding, “No respect for your elders.”
Yan Dong didn’t resist, glaring at the Third Prince. The latter was taller, with affectionate peach blossom eyes, a gentle gaze, and a smile on his face—he always seemed to be smiling. But strangely, over the years, Yan Dong’s deepest memory of him was a crying face.
That was from their childhood. Yan Dong, as usual, went to the palace to play and stumbled upon the Third Prince in a snow cave in the Imperial Garden. Dressed in luxurious attire, his face was tear-streaked, huddled in a corner, with no visible wounds but eyes full of panic and fear.
Little Yan Dong was spoiled, domineering, and protective. He held the Third Prince’s wet little face, took out a piece of orange candy that Yan Song had stuffed in his pocket when he left, and offered it like a big brother who could handle things, “Who bullied you? I’ll go beat them up!”
Back then, the Third Prince said he just had a nightmare during a nap, scared but not daring to show it in front of others, fearing it would damage his dignity, so he only dared to hide and cry secretly. Yan Dong believed him, after all, he was a prince, who could bully him? But as he grew older, one day he suddenly remembered this incident and realized that a prince is also a son, with a father and mother above, and demons and monsters below.
“Do you like Wu Bilin?” Yan Dong asked.
The Third Prince said, “Bilin is my legitimate wife.”
Avoiding the question was also an answer. Yan Dong sneered, “Then why aren’t you angry at all? Because you don’t care, you don’t care about the princess the Empress chose for you, you don’t care if she truly cares for you, you don’t even care about your face and authority.” He voiced his long-standing doubt, “Third Cousin, what do you really care about? Or rather, is there anything in this world you truly care about?”
The Third Prince quietly looked at Yan Dong, with something in his gaze that Yan Dong couldn’t understand, and after a long while, he said, “What can we princes care about? Naturally, it’s that throne placed on the ladder to heaven.”
Their brotherly competition had long been blatant, so there was no need to hide it. Yan Dong said, “If you want to sit on that throne, you shouldn’t let Wu Bilin run wild. She’s reckless and will harm you sooner or later.”
The Third Prince showed a half-smile, “Are you worried for me, or are you trying to ‘kill with a borrowed knife’?”
“Both.” Yan Dong was straightforward, “I don’t want my big brother to get involved with a rotten peach blossom, nor do I want you to be implicated.” He said all he could, put on his cloak again, and was about to leave, “Think about it yourself!”
As they brushed past each other, the Third Prince caught a whiff of the scent on Yan Dong, a fresh stone leaf fragrance, identical to Yan Song’s. For some reason, the image of the palace path appeared in his mind again.
“Why are you so angry?” The Third Prince suddenly spoke, making Yan Dong stop in his tracks.
He glanced sideways, his scrutinizing gaze falling on Yan Dong’s face. Yan Dong felt a sudden jolt, a momentary illusion of having his thoughts seen through. But it was just a fleeting moment of guilt.
“What kind of question is that? If this matter spreads, it will be a scandal for the royal family. My big brother is an external minister, even if he’s innocent, he’ll be unjustly implicated, splashed with dirt and attacked! Is it strange that I care for my big brother? Shouldn’t I?” Yan Dong retorted, sarcastically, “Or is it that, although everyone has their own ambitions, there are still distinctions, and only you are allowed to scheme for the throne, while my big brother isn’t allowed to have a smooth official career?”
The Third Prince was momentarily speechless, unable to refute.
Yan Dong’s chest heaved, his delicate and beautiful face flushed with anger, eyes sparking with fury, as if wishing to burn him. The Third Prince cleared his throat, patted Yan Dong’s shoulder, and coaxed, “I misspoke.”
Seeing the Third Prince’s softened attitude, Yan Dong pouted, stood there sulking for a while, and then softened as well, “Third Cousin, I don’t want to upset you, I’m just unhappy! What kind of situation is this?”
“I’ve already warned Bilin, but everyone has their fate.” The Third Prince spoke with a calm and cold tone, prompting Yan Dong to look up at him. He smiled gently, like a good cousin from an ordinary family, warmly and affectionately saying, “Since you’re here, have a meal before you go, just to give me some face, so I can apologize to you?”
Yan Dong, with a childish temper, said, “I don’t want to dine with Wu Bilin.”
The Third Prince chuckled, “When I dine with my cousin, it’s not entertaining guests, so she naturally doesn’t need to attend.”
So it turns out that only when entertaining guests do this couple dine together. Yan Dong felt a bit wistful but didn’t say much, just put on an air of an elder, nodding slightly with pride, “Alright then.”
*
“After the young master dined at the Third Prince’s residence, he left and bought chestnuts and walnut cakes along the way.” Chang Chun read the newly received flying note, teasing, “Seems like the food at the Third Prince’s residence isn’t as good as ours, the young master didn’t eat his fill.”
“In winter, appetites grow, and the child still needs to grow taller, eating more is good.” Yan Song finished reviewing the roster, made a bold stroke, and called for the steward of Wen Si Building to come in, instructing, “Work hard one more time before the year ends, distribute the festival rewards and red envelopes.”
The steward responded, opened the roster, and saw the line of small red characters. He was momentarily stunned and said, “Sir, why has the red envelope quota increased by thirty percent?”
“The young master accuses me of being a bad superior, too strict, always causing you to leave early and return late with me, so I dipped into my own pocket to add to the red envelopes as New Year’s money,” Yan Song smiled, “I hope you don’t hold a grudge against me.”
The steward laughed along, “The young master and you, sir, are harmonious brothers, envied by others! But working under you, sir, is a top-notch treatment, also envied by other colleagues.”
After expressing gratitude on behalf of everyone, he bowed and left.
“Is he coming back?” Chang Chun looked at the sky, “I’ll have someone prepare the carriage.”
“Let’s walk a bit, see if there are any trinkets to buy and offer to the ancestors.” Yan Song got up and went out.
With the New Year approaching, the streets were decorated with lanterns and streamers, most people wore new clothes and festive headgear, and children set off fireworks in the corners, creating a lively scene. Yan Song stopped at a stall selling festive headgear, pulled out a Swallow Lantern style, looked at it for a moment, and put it in his sleeve.
Chang Chun left some silver, saying no change was needed. The stall owner thanked him profusely, bowing, and by the time he straightened up, they had already walked far.
Passing by a pastry shop, Yan Song heard a familiar voice inside:
“Persimmon cakes, lychees, longans…” It was Yan Dong buying a box of assorted pastries and snacks.
Yan Song turned back, walked quietly to Yan Dong’s side. This kid had a spicy rabbit skewer in his left hand, walnut milk in his right, his mouth and stomach never idle, busy directing the shopkeeper to pack boxes, yet he immediately sensed his presence. Yan Dong turned his head, his forehead brushing against Yan Song’s cheek, both paused, then simultaneously burst into laughter.
“Mm…” Yan Song sniffed Yan Dong’s fair face, teasing him, “You’re all marinated now.”
“Being able to eat is a blessing!” Yan Dong said, taking another bite of rabbit, swaying his head, savoring the taste.
He had eaten spicy food, his cheeks and lips tinged with red, and in the bustling public, Yan Song found a certain vibrant allure. A beastly behavior, Yan Song harshly scolded himself in his heart, yet he didn’t deny his gaze, still fixed on the hibiscus-like face before him.
Yan Dong sensed that gaze, and if it were before, he would have immediately returned it. But now, for some reason, he chose to pretend not to notice, his eyelashes fluttering like a shy butterfly landing on his heart, gently tickling.
Yan Dong bought a little here and there, He Bao’s hands were full, and as a secret guard, he had to keep his hands free, so he stood with his arms crossed. Seeing that the two masters were focused on each other, Chang Chun went to the counter to continue reporting a string of pastry names, all familiar flavors from the residence.
“Is it very spicy,” Yan Song looked at Yan Dong’s face, “Your face is all red.”
“Huh? Same as before,” Yan Dong lied a little, “It’s warm in the shop, stuffy, it’ll be fine once I go out and get some air.”
Yan Song didn’t suspect, casually chatting, “Was the food at the Third Prince’s residence good?”
Yan Dong leaned over to Yan Song’s hand, took a sip of walnut milk, and said, “Same as before.”
“Oh,” Yan Song said, “Why did you suddenly go there?”
Yan Dong retorted, “Can’t I go? I used to go too.”
“Avoiding the question, suspicious.” Yan Song raised an eyebrow, “What mischief are you up to behind my back?”
“Don’t slander me,” Yan Dong said, with a guilty conscience, “I’ve been good these days.”
With that, he bypassed Yan Song, running off, clearly guilty, Yan Song chuckled, turned, and followed.
The carriage was parked at the alley entrance, the bodyguard acting as the driver opened the door, Yan Song, like a debt collector, chased Yan Dong up, cornering him, seemingly a bit hurt, “Our Dongdong has grown up, doesn’t tell his brother the truth anymore.”
“Oh!” Yan Dong couldn’t stand this, immediately confessing, of course omitting the part where the Third Prince suspected him. He said, leaning over, “I don’t want you involved with that Wu Bilin, but the Third Prince doesn’t seem to care.”
“He can’t control it, unless he kills or deposes her.” Yan Song said.
“No need to take a life.” Yan Dong, troubled, took a bite of rabbit, casually leaning on Yan Song’s shoulder, resting on him, quite sentimental, “They seem to have no affection at all.”
“Royal couples, not surprising.” Yan Song said calmly, “The Empress chose Wu Bilin back then only because her grandfather was Minister Wu.”
Royal couples, royal couples, Yan Dong pondered these four words, suddenly asking, “Big brother, what kind of wife do you want to marry in the future?”
He tried hard to control his tone, even forcing a smile, as if it was just a casual question, no one knew his heart was hanging high, all his energy blocked.
Yan Song lowered his gaze, saying, “Never thought about it.”
“Do you plan to never marry?” Yan Dong pretended to be relaxed, “Even if father and mother allow, others won’t, right?”
Yan Song asked, “Who are the others?”
“The Emperor.” Yan Dong joked, “Didn’t you say you’re the Fourth Prince? If you were surnamed Zhao, wouldn’t you also have to marry a wife chosen for political reasons?”
Even as a joke, Yan Song didn’t dare tease him too much, so he said, “If I bring someone back, you can’t stand it, if I really marry, won’t you tear the house down?”
“Tearing the house down is nothing,” Yan Dong said softly, “Besides, can I stop you by tearing the house down? No, from childhood to now, nothing you wanted to do could be stopped.”
“Ungrateful,” Yan Song brought up old accounts, “How many times have I let you off? The family rules are just for show now.”
Yan Dong laughed, his hair brushing against Yan Song’s face and neck, both painful and itchy. Yan Song didn’t avoid it, listening to him mutter, “That’s because you care for me, so you let me off, you care for me, so you let me off, you willingly care for me, willingly let me off, so you can’t blame me.”
“Mm,” Yan Song chuckled, “I asked for it.”
Yan Dong giggled, closing his eyes, clearly feeling the warmth of the shoulder beneath his head. For some reason, he thought of Yan Song in wedding attire again.
“Once you enter the ghost gate, it’s as deep as the sea, from then on, peace is a stranger,” He Bao was right, he was also haunted by ghosts, only these ghosts were jealousy and uncertainty, all his innate and outrageous desires.
Suddenly, Yan Dong felt something gently pinned to his hair, he reached up and touched it, feeling its general shape.
“Swallow Lantern,” he said proudly, “I look pretty wearing it, right?”
Yan Song said, “Of course.”
“Brother, tell me,” Yan Dong was curious, “If I became a girl, would I be a great beauty?”
“How could the child of Jiangnan’s number one beauty not be beautiful? Just look at our third sister.” Yan Song slightly tilted his head, but because of the position, he couldn’t see Yan Dong’s expression, he sensed something subtle, “Why suddenly think of this?”
“If you were the Fourth Prince, and I were Miss Yan, could I be your royal wife?” Yan Dong, like a naive little brother who only knew how to care for his brother, even said some well-meaning, innocent nonsense, “Compared to outsiders, of course, I’m more trustworthy. If I were your wife, you and I wouldn’t have to scheme, use, suspect, or even harm each other, we’d be like branches from the same tree, we’d live and die together, wouldn’t that be good?”
If he were his wife, Yan Song was silent for a moment, saying, “Of course, it would be good.”
“Of course, it would be good,” Yan Dong’s nostrils flared, speaking in a playful tone, “But I’m not… oh, I want to be a good partner for you, but even heaven doesn’t give me a chance.”
But why am I not?
The arm around him tightened slightly, Yan Song’s breath brushed against his temple, like clouds in the sky.
“Not a pity, you are you, no need to be anyone else. Don’t run too far,” Yan Song seemed to be coaxing him, or perhaps making a subtle promise, “Wherever brother goes, he’ll take you with him.”