After the meal, the attendants cleared the table. Yan Linyuan did not leave. Instead, he walked to the desk by the window and sat down. Moments later, Wang Shunde entered with two eunuchs, carrying a thick stack of memorials.
The memorials were piled on the desk like a small mountain.
Yun Biechen, lying on the lounge, looked at the documents and asked, “So many?”
“Yes.” Yan Linyuan picked up the one on top and opened it. “There is much to attend to today.”
“Then why did you come here?”
Yan Linyuan raised his eyes to look at him. “It is quiet here.”
Yun Biechen said nothing more. He turned over, lying down with his back toward the room.
He listened to the sound of Yan Linyuan flipping through the memorials, the scratching of the vermilion brush across the paper, and the crackling of the charcoal fire.
After a while, he sat up, picked up The Nanke Record from beside his pillow, and leaned against the head of the bed to read.
The hall was very quiet. The two of them went about their own business, not disturbing each other. Wang Sheng stood guard in the outer room, stepping in occasionally to add tea, his movements kept extremely light.
After about half an hour of reading, Yan Linyuan suddenly spoke: “Yun Biechen.”
Yun Biechen looked up from his book.
Yan Linyuan held a memorial in his hand, his expression heavy. “Do you know how many of these memorials are impeaching you?”
Yun Biechen blinked. “Impeaching me for what?”
“They say you are bewitching the monarch, that you are a hen crowing at dawn, and that I have abandoned state affairs because of you.” Yan Linyuan tossed the document onto the desk. “Some even say that since you were a person left behind by the late Emperor, keeping you in the palace is against propriety, and they want me to send you away.”
Yun Biechen listened quietly. Only when the Emperor finished did he ask, “Then are you going to send me away?”
Yan Linyuan stared at him. “What do you think?”
Yun Biechen thought for a moment. “I do not know.”
Yan Linyuan stood up, walked to the side of the lounge, and looked down at him from above, his eyes filled with a terrifying possessiveness. “I will not send you away. I said it before: you are mine.”
His words were heavy, as if every syllable were squeezed out from between his teeth.
Yun Biechen looked up at him, the reflection of Yan Linyuan’s strained face captured in his glass-like pupils. He watched for a moment, then reached out and touched Yan Linyuan’s cuff.
“There,” he said. “You got ink on it.”
Yan Linyuan looked down and saw a small ink stain on his cuff that he had accidentally picked up. He was stunned, and the aggression he had felt just moments before suddenly dissipated.
“I did not notice,” he said.
Yun Biechen withdrew his hand and returned to his book. “Go change it.”
Yan Linyuan stood there, watching him for a while, and suddenly smiled. He walked back to the desk, did not change his clothes, and continued to review the memorials.
Another half hour passed. Yun Biechen set the book aside and rubbed his eyes.
“Are you sleepy?” Yan Linyuan asked.
“Yes.”
“Then sleep,” Yan Linyuan said without looking up. “I am here, and I will not disturb you.”
Yun Biechen lay down and closed his eyes. But a moment later, he opened them again. “Are you not going back today?”
“No,” Yan Linyuan said. “These must be finished tonight.”
Yun Biechen gave an “oh” and closed his eyes again. This time, he fell asleep quickly, his breathing even and long.
Yan Linyuan stopped his brush and looked up at him. The man on the lounge was lying on his side, ink-black hair spread across the pillow, one hand resting near his face, fast asleep.
He watched for a long time before withdrawing his gaze to continue his work.
When he reached a certain memorial, his brow furrowed. It was a document from the Ministry of Rites, written with earnest sincerity, urging the Emperor to prioritize state affairs, visit his concubines, and ensure the continuation of the imperial line.
The document also mentioned that the Emperor had not visited his harem for a long time, claiming it was improper and likely to invite public criticism.
Yan Linyuan sneered and took up his brush to write two words on the document: “Meddlesome.”
After finishing that one, he picked up the next. This one was more direct, bluntly stating that the Emperor’s exclusive favor for Young Master Yun in Linhua Palace had caused unrest in the court and requesting the Emperor to think carefully.
Yan Linyuan stared at those words for a long time, then slowly wrote: “Read.”
He worked quickly, one document after another, and before he knew it, the sky had darkened. Wang Shunde came in to light the lamps and then quietly retreated.
Under the lamp, Yan Linyuan’s profile looked exceptionally sharp. He pursed his lips, his eyes focused, and his vermilion brush moved with varying speed, leaving lines of annotations on the documents.
When Yun Biechen woke up, this was the scene he saw.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Hearing the movement, Yan Linyuan looked up. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” Yun Biechen got off the lounge, walked to the table, and poured a cup of water to drink.
“Are you hungry?” Yan Linyuan asked. “Should I have the Imperial Kitchen send some snacks?”
Yun Biechen shook his head. “Not hungry.”
He carried his cup to the window and pushed it open. Outside, the sky was pitch black, and snow had begun to fall again, thin and dense, looking like scattered salt under the lamplight.
Yan Linyuan set down his brush, walked to his side, and looked at the snow with him.
Neither of them spoke, just standing there quietly. Snowflakes drifted in, landing on Yun Biechen’s hair, and Yan Linyuan reached out to gently brush them away.
“Are you cold?” Yan Linyuan asked.
“Not cold,” Yun Biechen said. “And you?”
“I am not cold either.”
They stood there for a little while longer before Yun Biechen closed the window and walked back to the lounge to sit down. Yan Linyuan also returned to the desk, but he did not resume his work, simply watching him.
“Yun Biechen,” Yan Linyuan spoke suddenly.
Yun Biechen raised his eyes.
“If one day,” Yan Linyuan said slowly, “I am forced to let you go, would you leave?”
Yun Biechen looked at him without speaking.
“Would you?” Yan Linyuan pressed again.
Yun Biechen thought about it and nodded. “Yes.”
Yan Linyuan smiled, a bitter expression on his face. “Could you not say something pleasant for once?”
“What would be pleasant?”
“For example, that you would not leave and would stay by my side forever.”
Yun Biechen shook his head. “I do not tell lies.”
Yan Linyuan stared at him for a long time before sighing. “That is true.”
He stood up and walked to the lounge, sitting down close to Yun Biechen. Their knees were almost touching.
“Then let me ask you this,” Yan Linyuan looked into his eyes. “If I am good to you, always good to you, would you still leave?”
Yun Biechen did not answer immediately. He lowered his eyes, his lashes casting soft shadows beneath them. After a long while, he whispered, “I do not know.”
“What do you mean you do not know?”
“It means that some things still need to be done,” Yun Biechen raised his eyes, Yan Linyuan’s face reflected in his glass-like pupils. “These things must be resolved eventually. It is not just me; there are things you must do as well. This is the reason I remain in the imperial palace. It has nothing to do with whether you are good to me or not.”
He spoke with such candor that the cruelty in Yan Linyuan’s heart almost broke through his restraint.
Yan Linyuan reached out and grasped his hand. Yun Biechen’s hand was very cold, his fingers slender and his joints well-defined.
“What about this?” Yan Linyuan asked. “I am holding your hand. Do you hate it?”
Yun Biechen thought about it and shook his head. “No feeling.”
“Fine. For now, you are still in the palace. As for the future, we will speak of it in the future.” In any case, it was impossible for him to let Yun Biechen escape his control.
He released his hand and stood up. “I am heading back. Get some rest early.”
Yun Biechen gave an “hmm.”
Yan Linyuan walked to the door and looked back. “I will come again tomorrow.”
“Hmm.”
Yan Linyuan left. Wang Sheng saw him out, and upon returning, saw Yun Biechen still sitting on the lounge, staring at his own hand in a daze.
“Young Master,” Wang Sheng asked in a low voice. “Was the Emperor angry?”
Yun Biechen shook his head. “I do not know.”
He lay down and closed his eyes. He fell asleep quickly, just as before.