As noon approached, the daylight outside suddenly dimmed. Kuang Xuexian set down his paintbrush and looked out, only to realize the weather had changed unexpectedly.
It was already midday, but clouds had covered the sun, casting the shop into sudden gloom. He had a feeling—Fu Mi would definitely come to bring him lunch.
He just knew it.
Then he heard the cheerful voice of Shopkeeper Liu next door: “Shopkeeper Kuang, your husband Zhang is here again with your meal!”
Kuang Xuexian immediately perked up, brushing off the paint-stained apron he wore and rising from the floor. Shopkeeper Liu’s teasing laughter still rang in his ears: “Husband Zhang is truly so diligent.”
Another shopkeeper, Han, chimed in: “Oh, Husband Zhang even brought flowers.”
At his exclamation, nearby shopkeepers and clerks poked their heads out to watch the scene. Kuang Xuexian set his easel aside and looked up to see Fu Mi already stepping into the shop with a gentle smile.
In his hand were two sprigs of plum blossoms—crimson buds just about to bloom, echoing the plum blossom patterns embroidered on his robe.
Warm as spring, his radiant smile was captivating—a gentleman as gentle and refined as jade, as if even the dimming daylight brightened again, filling his eyes and heart with light.
Yet, seeing him so elegant and handsome only reminded Kuang Xuexian of those overly passionate moments in private, making his whole body feel as if it were burning. This stark contrast stirred a peculiar mix of emotions within him—strangeness, shyness, and a hint of unease, like opening Pandora’s box, unsettling his usually calm heart with ripples that refused to settle.
These waves surged into his eyes, and the moment he saw Fu Mi, his face flushed red. Instinctively, he tried to maintain their usual respectful demeanor, softly saying, “You’re here.”
Fu Mi hummed in acknowledgment and handed him the plum blossoms: “I picked them on the way.”
Giving flowers truly suited Fu Mi’s image—the plum blossoms he picked were lovely, their branches graceful. This was the first time Kuang Xuexian had ever received flowers from someone.
He would take these blossoms home and place them at the head of their newlywed bed! As Kuang Xuexian took them, he saw Li Qing enter carrying the lunchbox.
Fu Mi asked him, “Were you painting?”
Kuang Xuexian had just nodded when Fu Mi reached out, his thumb brushing lightly over Kuang Xuexian’s cheek, leaving a faint blush in its wake. Fu Mi smiled, revealing neat white teeth, and said, “You’ve got paint on your face.”
His gesture was intimate, his tone heart-flutteringly gentle, but Kuang Xuexian’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, as if his usual carefree composure had vanished. He met Fu Mi’s gaze briefly before quickly lowering his eyes.
Fu Mi felt an indescribable fondness for this side of Kuang Xuexian. From a young age, he had learned to read people, noticing even the subtlest details. Kuang Xuexian seemed to have taken on a gentle, wifely shyness, his clear-cut sharpness softened and more accommodating.
It was as if he were his husband, and Kuang Xuexian would embrace everything about him. Even if he returned covered in blood after taking a life, kneeling before him, Kuang Xuexian would lovingly cradle his head in his lap and give him a sweet kiss.
An emperor should not possess such ordinary marital affection, nor should he have the opportunity for it. Through the identity of Zhang Ji, he obtained this brief experience. But this experience was fatal to him. Because he had never experienced it before, and he did not know if it would change in the future—it felt elusive, as if he couldn’t grasp it.
Li Qing smiled from behind and said, “Master and Young Master, please eat first.”
They then began to set the table. However, during the meal, Li Qing felt he shouldn’t be there. He should be outside the door.
Why did His Majesty’s gaze suddenly become so direct? It made him afraid!
He even wondered if the emperor had already revealed his true nature last night, allowing him to be so unrestrained today.
Young Master Kuang was also feeling quite embarrassed. Such a reserved young man, yet the blush on his face never faded. Fu Yi showed Kuang Xuexian the rough sketches of several beds.
The several large lacquered and gold-painted beds were not very different from one another. When Kuang Xuexian saw these beds and thought of them as their wedding beds, his heart grew even warmer. He was also a man, and now, stirred by Fu Yi, he felt restless and agitated. To be honest, his desire was much stronger than usual.
Even his skin seemed to become more sensitive, turning into a thin, taut, and flushed layer. But he felt that Fu Yi seemed to lack the emotion of shyness. He lifted his eyes and saw those dark, gleaming eyes fixed on him, carrying a faint hint of wildness, which contrasted sharply with that young, handsome, and elegant face.
He recalled the somewhat forceful kiss and felt as if his heart were suspended in mid-air, swaying uncontrollably. Fortunately, Fu Yi ate little and was the first to finish. After finishing, he left the dining table, wiped his hands, and went to look at the painting he had drawn that day.
That day, he had painted the cover for the new storybook The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate, depicting two men embracing and kissing. This painting was different from the ones like The Lotus Chronicles that Fu Yi had seen before. The two men were wrapped in the same cloak, and compared to the human figures, this time more emphasis was placed on the intricate patterns of the clothing—truly endlessly magnificent. Part of it was still unfinished, but the general outline had already been sketched with fine strokes.
He had never seen this style of painting before; it was very novel. He turned his head to look at Kuang Xuexian and saw, in the faint spring light, a patch of rouge-red staining Kuang Xuexian’s shoulder, as if a plum blossom petal had fallen on his green robe. And Kuang Xuexian’s earlobes were even redder than the rouge.
They looked even more tender. Kuang Xuexian’s earlobes were very ticklish. Last night, when he had kissed him and lightly rubbed his ears with his fingers, Kuang Xuexian had climaxed. The two of them truly only seemed similar on the surface; in reality, they were worlds apart. In a sense, they truly lived up to their names. Now, this faint, cold snowlight was about to be melted into a tide by the blazing fire.
He had been imprisoned since childhood. The deposed emperor forbade him from attending school, and only a few palace officials and ladies-in-waiting secretly taught him a little. His handwriting was passable, and he was versed in poetry and literature, but he knew nothing about painting. He thought fate had been fair to him, giving him a Kuang Xuexian who excelled in both calligraphy and painting. His palace had collected countless masterpieces of calligraphy and painting from past dynasties, and he thought Kuang Xuexian would surely love them.
Give them to him, give them all to him! Li Qing pursed his lips and tidied the table, with Kuang Xuexian helping him. He could tell that Young Master Kuang was especially quiet today.
The more reserved Kuang Langjun appeared, the more brazen the emperor’s gaze became. It was as if he had found a timid person to bully.
What the emperor was truly like—others might not know, but how could he not understand? He merely possessed an elegant appearance, but beneath it lay a devouring nature that left no bones behind.
Although the curfew had been lifted today, the streets were nearly empty. Kuang Xuexian said, “I want to close early today and go to the Su residence to see Bao Bao.”
Fu Yi replied, “The sky has darkened. Let Li Qing rent a carriage. I’ll accompany you.”
Outside, the sky had truly turned gloomy, overcast and heavy, and the wind had suddenly grown cold. Li Qing went to rent a carriage and drove it back himself, deciding that from now on, he would no longer ride inside. Judging by the emperor’s demeanor, it was likely inappropriate for a third person to be in the carriage.
As they closed the shop door, Shopkeeper Liu teased, “Shopkeeper Kuang, you’re heading home so early these days!”
Kuang Xuexian smiled and said, “I have something to attend to today—meeting a friend.”
He boarded the carriage, and Fu Yi followed, closing the door behind him. “That Shopkeeper Liu is quite noisy.”
Kuang Xuexian explained, “That’s just his nature.”
No sooner had he spoken than Fu Yi moved to sit beside him.
Li Qing called from outside, “Master, Langjun, please hold steady.”
As the carriage started moving, Kuang Xuexian swayed slightly. Suddenly, Fu Yi reached out, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him onto his lap.
Kuang Xuexian flushed with embarrassment. Outside, the voices of Shopkeeper Liu and others could still be heard—merchants tended to speak loudly, their laughter hearty and unrestrained. The carriage curtain swayed gently, as if any movement inside would be as audible to them as their own voices were to him.
He dared not make a sound. Fu Yi buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. He truly didn’t understand why Fu Yi was so fond of smelling him.
Fu Yi sniffed here and there, seemingly unsatisfied, then used one hand to part the collar of his robe. Kuang Xuexian recalled how Fu Yi had stripped him of his undergarments the previous day. At the time, he hadn’t known what Fu Yi had seen or done, and he lacked the courage to ask. Now, a sense of unfamiliarity washed over him, and he couldn’t help but squirm, trying to slip off Fu Yi’s lap.
But after a few futile attempts, he found himself firmly restrained by Fu Yi’s arm, unable to move. Instead, Fu Yi seemed unable to bear it any longer and tightened his embrace abruptly, squeezing Kuang Xuexian’s shoulder blades until they nearly curled inward.
“Don’t move,” Fu Yi murmured, his teeth gently grazing the delicate, crimson shell of Kuang Xuexian’s ear.
The world seemed to dissolve into a haze of damp sensations and muffled sounds. Fu Yi’s hand grew restless, sliding beneath his robe, long, slender fingers rhythmically clenching and releasing.
Kuang Xuexian remembered how beautiful Fu Yi’s hands were—pale, slender, tinged with a faint blush. He felt feverish and disoriented, his vision blurring and losing focus, his fine eyelashes trembling uncontrollably. He had once genuinely believed that between the two of them, he was the one in control. He had even considered teaching Fu Yi step by step.
Fu Yi whispered, “Last night, I tried for a long time with my own hand, but nothing happened.”
Kuang Xuexian: “…”
“I’m always like this.”
The tone carried a hint of pitifulness, yet it didn’t feel like coquettishness at all. Instead, it held a dissatisfied, brooding edge, dark and oppressive.
Upon reflection, Fu Yi’s behavior seemed somewhat abnormal. Kuang Xuexian wondered if it was related to the medicine he was taking. But at this moment, his embarrassment and shame completely overshadowed any concern for Fu Yi. He was such a reserved person, so accustomed to restraint that he didn’t know how to respond.
Little did he know that Fu Yi loved seeing him like this the most—a kind of proper shyness that belonged to a bashful wife, pitiable. This quality, which originally seemed not to belong to Kuang Xuexian, now appeared on him because of Fu Yi.
His sharp jawline was tinged with pink, his lips even more tender and fresh, the lines of his mouth like clean-cut petals. It seemed both inside and out, he was in good spirits, looking clean and kissable.
The more he was like this, the more Fu Yi wanted to be even more wicked. He stared at his face, his fingers grazing his lips: “You and I are to be husband and wife. Isn’t it normal to say such things?”
His fingers had always been beautiful—fair and slender—and when they caressed someone, it was especially sensual, gently tracing circles. Yet those pitch-black eyes remained fixed on his face.
In truth, if it were just the actions, it might have been bearable. But his gaze was what made one most uncomfortable, as if even the slightest wandering thought would be captured. Physical desire was not frightening, but now it felt as if even his soul was being scrutinized by Fu Yi. In moments like these, the naked exposure of one’s thoughts was the most shameful. Kuang Xuexian didn’t know where to look, finally struggling to climb off his lap: “Don’t be like this… I’m a bit uncomfortable…”
Blushing, he quickly crawled to the other side and sat down, facing Fu Yi directly.
Fu Yi leaned quietly against the carriage, watching him but making no further move.
Kuang Xuexian tried his best to ignore the bulge in Fu Yi’s robe, his heart pounding wildly. He turned and lifted the curtain slightly, watching the wind blow down Golden Crow Street amidst the rumbling of the carriage wheels. The banners along the road fluttered in succession, and the cold wind brushed his face, making him shiver.
At that moment, he suddenly felt as if Fu Yi was touching his waist. He turned his head and saw that Fu Yi was actually tying a piece of jade to his belt.
A black jade, round in shape, with no patterns on it, entirely dark and glossy, adorned with a red sorrel knot. In ancient times, the sorrel knot held a meaning similar to that of a lucky clover, symbolizing good fortune and smooth sailing. It was a widely popular bow knot in the Great Zhou dynasty. In Shuangluan City, women liked to tie their ribbons into sorrel knots, with beautiful jade hanging in the middle, dangling down to the hem of their robes, producing a clear, tinkling sound as they walked. It was said this style originated from the Jian Tai Palace, where it was once used to signify the status of female officials. The palace attendants there could even walk without the jade pendants moving. However, in Shuangluan City, few men wore sorrel knots, as people in the Western Capital considered them lacking in masculinity.
The jade was extremely black, clearly a rare and beautiful piece, while the sorrel knot was as red as dripping blood. The contrast of red and black created a strikingly vivid beauty, hanging against his green robe.
Fu Yi stared at it for a while, seeming both satisfied and somewhat wistful.
Kuang Xuexian reached out, his pale hand grasping the black jade. The pendant had likely been tucked close to Fu Yi’s chest for a long time, carrying his body warmth, so much so that Kuang Xuexian could almost feel the weight of his affection.
“In the past, when I parted from my mother, she tied two jade ribbons on me, wishing me smooth sailing. Now I give one to you, so we each have one.” His gaze lifted from the jade to Kuang Xuexian’s face. “Don’t think it’s just an ordinary jade ribbon. It holds great significance for me. Once tied, it cannot be casually returned. This is meant to bind you, Kuang Xuexian.”
This was the true betrothal gift.