The So-Called Bitter Consequences
Xiao Han felt as though he had awoken from a long dream, struggling to discern what was real and what was merely a figment of his imagination.
He lay there for a long time, staring at the bright yellow canopy embroidered with golden dragons above him, before sitting up abruptly. He glanced around, taking in the celadon incense burner, the gold-lacquered screen, and the pair of dragon-embroidered boots at the foot of the bed. A few steps away, a carved brazier emitted a thin stream of smoke. Everything was exquisitely crafted, exuding a sense of opulent antiquity.
The sound of his movement seemed to alert someone nearby, as a young man quickly entered the room with small, careful steps, stopping in front of the screen. In a soft, ingratiating voice, he asked, “Your Majesty, are you awake? The Top Scholar has been waiting in the eastern warm chamber for quite some time.”
This was Xian Fu, the chief eunuch who had served the Qing Emperor since childhood. He understood the emperor’s complex and unpredictable moods better than anyone, making him the most trusted of confidants. Seeing the emperor sitting silently on the dragon bed, Xian Fu sighed inwardly. He thought that the Top Scholar’s nightly favor was likely coming to an end. Everyone knew the emperor was cold-hearted, and his affections came and went quickly. It was a pity that the Top Scholar’s deep feelings for the emperor were destined to be in vain. Even now, he waited eagerly in the eastern warm chamber, hoping for the emperor’s summons.
Xian Fu waited quietly for a moment, and finally, there was some movement from behind the purple sandalwood screen.
“Let him continue waiting,” the Qing Emperor said slowly, his voice hoarse and low, sounding even colder than usual, with a hint of anger.
The chief eunuch’s heart skipped a beat, his face tensing immediately. It was one thing for the emperor to be angry, but not knowing the source of his anger was truly alarming!
“Bring me a cup of water.”
Xian Fu, still on edge, quickly and skillfully poured tea and brought it over respectfully. Although the emperor’s words had an unusual pause when referring to himself, Xian Fu dared not think too deeply about it due to the emperor’s imposing presence.
The Qing Emperor disliked having attendants too close, so after handing over the tea, Xian Fu respectfully retreated behind the screen.
It was winter, and the tea was warm but not scalding. The tea leaves were a tribute from a small southwestern country, their fragrance refreshing. The Qing Emperor took a sip, but even the warm aroma couldn’t melt the icy expression on his face.
He drank the tea slowly, and Xian Fu found it increasingly difficult to gauge the emperor’s mood. Unable to resist, he stole a glance at the emperor, only to meet his dark gaze. Xian Fu’s heart jumped, and he nearly fell to his knees.
“Xian Fu.” The Qing Emperor set the teacup aside, his voice as cold as his demeanor. “Let him in to serve.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Xian Fu bowed his head and exited, only relaxing after closing the door and taking several steps away. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and hurried to the eastern warm chamber.
Perhaps due to his long wait, the Top Scholar’s steps were light, and even the sound of his feet crunching on the snow was pleasing to the ear.
As they neared the Changqing Hall where the Qing Emperor resided, he tugged on Xian Fu’s sleeve and cautiously asked, “Eunuch Xian, do you know how His Majesty’s mood is tonight?”
Xian Fu’s mouth turned bitter, and he replied helplessly, “Sir, His Majesty does not like his servants to speculate on his intentions. You mustn’t trouble me with this. You are in His Majesty’s favor, so there’s no need to worry. However, please serve him carefully.”
The Top Scholar was taken aback and quickly thanked the eunuch for his advice.
Whether it was by the emperor’s command or not, the Changqing Hall was dimly lit that night.
The brazier in the sleeping quarters was burning brightly, and when the door opened, a bit of cold air seeped in, quickly dispersed by the warmth. The Top Scholar removed his heavy fur cloak, revealing a thin, blue-purple official robe underneath.
He walked to the screen in front of the dragon bed, bowed his head, and knelt to pay his respects, his demeanor shy and scholarly.
The Qing Emperor lay on the bed, eyes closed, seemingly resting. He hadn’t acknowledged the man’s entrance, but now he opened his eyes and glanced at the kneeling figure.
“Raise your head.” The voice was calm, yet carried a weighty authority.
The man hesitated before looking up, stealing a glance at the emperor through the sheer curtain. The emperor’s face was as cold and stern as he remembered from the day he had seen him on a grand procession, seated on a high dragon carriage, receiving the people’s reverence.
He had been in the crowd that day, catching a distant glimpse of the emperor, and had been captivated ever since, as if under a spell.
The brazier’s glow cast a faint blush on his face.
Upon seeing his face clearly, the Qing Emperor’s pupils contracted sharply—the Top Scholar had Zhuo Fan’s face! Though his demeanor differed from his past life, his appearance was unmistakable.
The Qing Emperor, ruler of the Qing Empire, bore the surname Xiao, and the Late Emperor had bestowed upon his eldest son the name Han. This was the Qing Emperor’s true name, Xiao Han.
The Top Scholar kneeling before him was the very same Zhuo Fan, whom the Qing Emperor had favored and appointed as the Top Imperial Graduate in the Golden Throne Hall.
Zhuo Fan was exceedingly handsome, with a refined and gentle demeanor. The Qing Emperor, who had a penchant for men, was accustomed to the fawning courtiers of the harem. Zhuo Fan’s scholarly air and cautious admiration had caught the emperor’s eye.
It was like craving something wild after a diet of delicacies. The Qing Emperor had effortlessly brought the new Top Scholar to his bed, showering him with nightly favor. Zhuo Fan, already enamored with the emperor, was further ensnared by his attentions, losing himself in a dream of love and affection, forgetting the true nature of the emperor as a fickle and indulgent ruler.
Little did he know, every person favored by the Qing Emperor had once believed they were special, different from the rest, naively thinking the emperor would change for them, from a libertine to a devoted lover.
Could anything be more melodramatic?
Growing long hair doesn’t make you a maiden! There are too many with princess syndrome these days!
Xiao Han’s expression was as dark as the polar night. He had thought defying the script would lead only to death, but now he faced something worse—no release even in death!
Though he had a new identity and a new storyline, the damned trope of scoundrel and victim loomed ahead, waiting for him to step into it.
Was the consequence of defying the script eternal entanglement with this person? As this thought crossed his mind, Xiao Han’s face turned pale.
“Your Majesty?” Zhuo Fan remained kneeling, sensing something unusual in the emperor’s gaze. He felt uneasy, recalling Eunuch Xian’s advice to serve carefully, suspecting the emperor was in a foul mood.
“…You, stand up.” The Qing Emperor’s voice was cold and flat.
Zhuo Fan seemed accustomed to this, slowly rising. The recent favor had emboldened him slightly, and the emperor had often indulged his minor transgressions. This command seemed like a hint, prompting Zhuo Fan to take a step forward, leaning slightly. Seeing the emperor unmoved, he felt encouraged and cautiously approached the bed, parting the thin veil.
The Qing Emperor, dressed impeccably in a dark gold robe, looked at him with eyes as sharp as blades.
Zhuo Fan instinctively averted his gaze, bowing his head. “Your Majesty, may I assist you in disrobing?”
The Qing Emperor remained silent, neither agreeing nor refusing, which Zhuo Fan took as consent.
Summoning his courage, he climbed onto the bed, placing his hands on the emperor’s chest. Just as he was about to undo the robe, his wrist was caught. He looked up to see the emperor with closed eyes, instructing, “Disrobe yourself.” With that, he released Zhuo Fan’s hand.
Though puzzled, Zhuo Fan nodded slightly, slowly unfastening the buttons of his robe. He continued until he was down to his undergarments, then removed the last piece, kneeling naked beside the emperor.
Despite the nightly intimacy, Zhuo Fan was still shy. Usually, the emperor initiated contact, but now, with no sign of initiative, Zhuo Fan was at a loss, unsure where to place his hands.
After a moment of hesitation, Xiao Han remained unresponsive, so Zhuo Fan gritted his teeth and leaned in to kiss the emperor’s lips.
Unexpectedly, Xiao Han frowned and turned his face away, resulting in a kiss on the cheek. Zhuo Fan, looking hurt, knelt there without attempting another kiss, instead moving his head lower to gently kiss through the robe.
Thinking of the script’s nonsense, Xiao Han felt no joy, but he knew he couldn’t avoid tonight’s encounter unless he wanted to alter the storyline again. He had already seen the consequences, and nothing was more frustrating than the current situation!
—At least until he found a way to counter the script, he would follow it for now.
Though he felt no affection for Zhuo Fan, his body responded to the attention. Xiao Han closed his eyes, refusing to look at the face below him. Soon, he felt his robe being lifted, his undergarments undone, and his arousal springing free.
Zhuo Fan carefully held it, his face flushed. Before taking it into his mouth, he glanced up at the emperor, who still had his eyes closed, not looking at him. This left Zhuo Fan feeling both disappointed and relieved.
Xiao Han maintained a stoic expression, his breathing only becoming heavier as he neared release in Zhuo Fan’s mouth. He opened his eyes, startling Zhuo Fan, who was about to sit back.
Seeing the exposed, slightly raised object, Xiao Han frowned further. He didn’t want to see it, so he grabbed Zhuo Fan’s arm, pulling him to lie face down on the white bedding.
“Your Majesty?” Zhuo Fan shifted uneasily. Though the room was warm, being naked in winter left him cold.
Xiao Han pressed down on his waist, his voice cold. “Don’t move, don’t look back.”
Zhuo Fan grew more anxious but remained obedient, enduring the emperor’s fingers as they prepared him.
Annoyed, Xiao Han had no interest in playing games. He gripped Zhuo Fan’s waist tightly and entered him, the tight heat igniting his body, driving him to thrust deeper and harder.
“Ah… Your Majesty…” Zhuo Fan’s body rocked with Xiao Han’s movements, his moans rising and falling in the sea of lust. He wanted to look back at the emperor’s face, but his body was held firmly, only able to hear the man’s heavy, indifferent breathing.
Compared to Zhuo Fan’s nakedness, Xiao Han was nearly fully clothed, only his undergarments slightly lowered. The bedding was disheveled from Zhuo Fan’s grip, the small space filled with his cries and the wet sounds.
Yet the hotter his body grew, the colder his heart felt, as if another person watched this absurdity through his eyes, detached and indifferent…
At the last moment, Zhuo Fan cried out, his legs trembling, eyes unfocused. Xiao Han lay against Zhuo Fan’s pale back, breathing heavily, before slowly straightening and withdrawing from the warm interior.
His dark eyes watched the milky fluid drip from between Zhuo Fan’s legs, staining the sheets, with no intention of touching the man again, his expression utterly indifferent.
The sticky sensation on his body was uncomfortable. Xiao Han frowned, tidied himself, and left the bed without looking back at the tearful man. The hall was silent, save for Zhuo Fan’s lingering breaths and the echo of footsteps, emphasizing the emptiness.
—If the script demanded he be a scoundrel, then he would be one thoroughly, completely!