As the Winter Solstice drew near, a crisp, biting chill and a solemn atmosphere quietly permeated the air of the capital. Ji Yanche grew increasingly busy, pouring himself entirely into preparations for the annual grand ancestor-worship ceremony. This ceremony carried the fervent expectations of praying for national peace, prosperity, and favorable weather, making it of extraordinary significance.
Emperor Zhaoming was born to the Noble Imperial Consort, a favored concubine of the previous dynasty. As the late Emperor’s youngest son, he had been doted on and protected by his elders since childhood. Because of this, he paid exceptionally close attention to the annual worship and ritual ceremonies, refusing to tolerate even the slightest flaw.
That night, Ji Yanche once again returned to the manor late into the night. The night was as dark as ink, and hazy moonlight spilled gently over the courtyards of the Prince’s Manor. Inside the bedchamber, a lone lamp emitted a warm, amber glow, casting a blurred silhouette of a person against the carved wooden window.
Ji Yanche guessed that at this moment, Meng Qing was probably reclining leisurely on the warm daybed, casually flipping through a storybook. Beside the daybed, fresh fruits, exquisite pastries, and perhaps a cup of steaming osmanthus tea would be neatly arranged. From time to time, he would likely lift his gaze toward the window, looking forward to his return.
The mere thought that someone would be waiting at home for him like this softened his heart beyond words.
Clatter, clatter, clatter,
Before he even stepped into the room, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps echoing from inside, clearly someone hastily scrambling off the daybed to run over.
The moment Ji Yanche pushed the door open, a fluffy head crashed straight into his embrace.
“Husband, you’re back.”
Meng Qing lunged into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist with shining, joyful eyes brimming with delight.
Ji Yanche was enveloped in the biting cold of the night, while Meng Qing had just finished washing up and wore only a thin undergarment. The sudden clash of cold and warmth made him shiver uncontrollably.
“Aren’t you cold, Qingqing?”
Meng Qing shook his head hurriedly. Far from pulling away, he gently cradled Ji Yanche’s freezing palms in his own, using his warm little hands to warm him up.
“Are you cold, Husband?”
Ji Yanche leaned down slightly, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of Meng Qing’s lips that vanished like a dragonfly skimming water. “Your husband isn’t cold either.”
With that, he scooped Meng Qing up horizontally and carried him into the room, settling him back down onto the warm daybed. Sure enough, he spotted a plate of tuckahoe cakes, a skewer of grapes, a cup of steaming osmanthus tea, and a storybook hastily discarded and lying on the floor beside the daybed.
“Not wearing your shoes again.”
Ji Yanche smiled helplessly, bending down to pick up the two shoes kicked off near the bed and neatly placing them in front of the daybed.
His wife simply couldn’t break the habit of going barefoot, and scolding or lecturing was out of the question, leaving him no choice but to have thick carpets laid across every room in the Prince’s Manor so he could walk more comfortably.
Looking somewhat embarrassed, Meng Qing reached out to hook his arm around Ji Yanche’s. “I’ll definitely change next time.”
“Husband has been coming back so late lately, you must be exhausted.”
“State affairs are tangled and complex; I really couldn’t pull myself away. Once this busy spell passes, it will be better.”
Ji Yanche sat down beside Meng Qing, pulling him naturally into his arms as he idly played with a strand of hair that had fallen across his palm.
“Do you remember everything about the ceremony, Qingqing?”
Meng Qing nodded obediently, a sweet smile curving the corners of his mouth. “Rest assured, I’m already very familiar with it.”
“Qingqing is wonderful.”
“When the time comes, just stay close to me. Once it’s over, Little Wu will take you back first.” Ji Yanche hooked a lock of hair and pressed a kiss to it. The faint fragrance lingering among the strands filled his senses, driving him deeply captivated.
“Did Qingqing bathe already?”
Watching his movements, Meng Qing felt his cheeks grow warm.
So suggestive… why does the atmosphere suddenly feel wrong?
“Mhm,” Meng Qing replied. He took Ji Yanche’s hand and guided it to rest upon his fair shoulder, while his other hand untied the sash at his waist as he spoke in a shy, honeyed whisper: “Wenjin…”
Ji Yanche’s breathing grew abruptly heavier. With a swift roll, he pinned the person beneath him, lowering his head to capture those vibrant, moist lips. Meng Qing offered a token struggle before quickly drowning in the scorching wave of affection.
“Ngh… shouldn’t we go to the bed?” Meng Qing panted softly, a mist veiling his eyes as his gaze grew hazy.
No answer came. Gazing at the flushed cheeks of the person beneath him, Ji Yanche’s throat bobbed, and he nipped lightly at his skin.
He had wanted to do this for a long time.
Meng Qing’s eyelashes fluttered in confusion, puzzled, but his brain had already short-circuited, prompting him to ask on a whim:
“Does it taste good?”
Ji Yanche gave no reply, pouring himself into this overflowing devotion with even fiercer intensity.
It wasn’t until deep into the second watch of the night that the tumultuous sea of passion finally subsided.
On the day of the Winter Solstice, before the sky had even brightened, the Prince Ning’s Manor was already bustling with activity.
Ji Yanche and Meng Qing packed up early and boarded the carriage, the grand procession rumbling toward the sacrificial grounds. Along both sides of the street, commoners had long since knelt to welcome them, broken only by the steady, rumbling revolutions of turning wheels.
Inside the carriage, Meng Qing who had been woken up at such an ungodly hour for the first time—felt a wave of drowsiness, yet the moment he thought of the solemn and magnificent sacrificial ceremony awaiting them, his nervousness instantly chased away all sleepiness, leaving him wide awake.
Sensing his unease, Ji Yanche took his hand, soothing his restless heart. “I am here.”
Those three simple words acted like a steadfast anchor. Hearing them, Meng Qing nodded lightly, his expression relaxing slightly.
Upon arriving at the site of the grand sacrificial ceremony, the majestic altar stood tall in the center of the plaza, wreathed in curling wisps of incense smoke. Guided by officials of the Ministry of Rites, they slowly ascended the altar.
The ritual was solemn and dignified. Accompanied by stately and melodious ritual music, Meng Qing didn’t even dare to draw a full breath, terrified that a single misstep or error on his part would cause a flaw in the ceremony. Fortunately, everything proceeded with utter smoothness, and this profoundly significant grand rite successfully drew to a close amidst the devout kowtows of the crowd.
“Sister-in-law, over here!”
Ji Lingfeng waved excitedly at him from a distance.
Meng Qing hurried over with quick steps, finally spotting a familiar face amidst the sea of imperial relatives and high-ranking nobles, feeling an overwhelming sense of familiar warmth.
“Little Wu, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Hehe, isn’t it because Third Brother grounded me? I heard those bastards kidnapped you—is Sister-in-law’s health better now?”
“Everything is fine.” Hearing him ask, warmth bloomed in Meng Qing’s chest.
“Third Brother still has matters to attend to; let’s head back first.”
Meng Qing nodded, though he couldn’t help glancing back one last time as they left.
He saw Ji Yanche clad in dark ritual robes, the golden python embroidery glittering brilliantly under the sunlight. Wearing an imperial crown and carrying a stern, cold expression, he was currently bowing his head to converse with someone beside him. At this moment, he radiated the absolute authority of a supreme ruler.
An inexplicable wave of self-deprecation suddenly surged in Meng Qing’s heart, making him feel so ordinary and insignificant. If not for the “wedding blessing,” perhaps he would never have crossed paths with him in this lifetime.
Sensing something, Meng Qing saw Ji Yanche turn his head to lock eyes with him, only to calmly look away a moment later and resume talking with the person beside him.
…I’m just too idle, sitting around all day thinking up things that hurt our marital harmony. He turned and left alongside Ji Lingfeng.
Once the grand sacrificial ceremony concluded, the streets resumed their usual bustle and liveliness. People exchanged warm greetings amid endless laughter and cheer, hanging festive lanterns by their doorways as the atmosphere brimmed with the joy of welcoming the New Year.
“Little Wu, aren’t you staying for a meal?”
As the carriage arrived at the Prince Ning’s Manor, Meng Qing asked him.
“No, Sister-in-law, Consort Mother is still waiting for me in the palace.”
Ah, right. I still don’t quite get these things TvT.
“Alright, take care on the way back.”