Chapter 1#
Inside the cabinet of Prince Funing’s mansion, the fragrant mist was enchanting and diffused.
A person was lazily half-sitting, half-reclining on the grand armchair in the center, his brocade robe half-open, his hair disheveled.
The hall remained silent. He sneered slightly, then swept his gaze across the new top scholar who had been standing for a long time below. Finally, he spoke carelessly, “Scholar, you are a student of the Emperor. Before even meeting His Majesty, you eagerly came to visit me. Are you trying to accuse this prince of forming a private clique, and thus give me the crime of disloyalty?”
After a string of sarcastic official remarks, he didn’t have the patience to wait for a reply. He suddenly rose with a smile, “Scholar, have you come to inquire from this prince whether His Majesty will grant you a third-rank official position at tomorrow’s morning court?”
“This humble official dares not presume,” the scholar bowed, denying it, but his eyes burned, clearly showing his ambition.
The prince in the hall closed his eyes, then rose with a smile and approached the scholar.
The moment he stopped, his robe and belt loosened, and the already loose silk robe gradually slipped down, revealing most of his body.
The new scholar almost gasped. Besides this large robe, Prince Han Lang wore nothing underneath. Did he always meet ministers privately in this manner?
The scholar, whose heart was pounding like a rabbit, suddenly felt his mouth go dry.
Prince Han Lang of Funing, as rumored throughout the court and country, had an infinitely charming and indescribably alluring gaze, which made one’s heart itch, yet also sent shivers down one’s spine.
Just then, footsteps were heard from outside the corridor. Han Lang frowned. From the sound of the footsteps, he already knew who was coming.
Indeed, the carved wooden door was suddenly pushed open.
“Liunian, has His Majesty taken all his medicine?” Han Lang no longer spared a glance for the useless, foolish scholar, only asking Liunian, the guard who had burst into the room.
“Reporting to Your Highness, His Majesty has been reviewing memorials. I warmed the medicine again and again, and urged him repeatedly, but he hasn’t touched a drop.”
Han Lang let out a soft “oh,” then leaned forward and gripped his chin. “I left you in the palace; is this how you serve?”
Without needing to see anything else, just by looking at Liunian’s bruised face, one could tell how much force the prince had used.
“This servant has failed in his duties; please punish me, master.”
Han Lang pondered for a moment, then made a decision. “Never mind! Liunian, go into the inner room and help me change, then accompany me to the palace.”
“Your Highness, what about me?” The new top scholar then remembered his purpose for coming, having not even presented his calling card.
“What, do you… want me to say ‘please’ for you to leave the mansion?”
“This student dares not, dares not…” As he bowed his head, Han Lang had already discreetly fastened the golden sash around his waist and left with a displeased expression.
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In the Leisure Palace, a faint scent of medicine permeated the air.
Inside the hall, apart from one person sitting upright at the dragon desk in the center, everyone else was kneeling on the ground, urging His Majesty to take his medicine.
And the master himself, engrossed in reviewing memorials, remained silent.
“Your Majesty, this medicine will get cold again soon. If you don’t take it, the Prince will not let us off lightly.”
The vermilion brush paused for a moment, then continued writing.
“Your Majesty!” The eunuch beside him suddenly whispered, “The Prince has arrived.”
Only then did the Emperor look up, to see Prince Funing wearing a purple phoenix silver crown with swaying wings, draped in a brocade purple gauze robe, and a python belt around his waist, standing majestically with his signature gentle smile.
The brush trembled, and the Emperor uneasily glanced around.
“I came in without waiting for your summons,” Han Lang explained appropriately, then ordered everyone else to leave the Leisure Palace. The Emperor hesitated, did not object, and continued reviewing.
Finally, only the monarch and his minister remained.
“The Leisure Palace was originally given to you for recuperating,” a sigh came from above. Before the echo faded, Han Lang had already picked up the Emperor. Autumn had long set in, and while it didn’t feel particularly cold during the day, the nights were still chilling.
He touched the Emperor’s clasped hands, confirming his guess; the Emperor’s hands were indeed icy cold.
“You are the Emperor, and the burden on your shoulders is naturally heavy. However, you must also take care of your health.”
The Emperor quietly allowed Han Lang to hold him in his lap, not moving.
Han Lang glanced at the desk; the medicine in the bowl was still steaming. He reached out, picked it up, and brought it to the Emperor’s lips.
“Autumn has arrived. I should have reminded you to wear an extra jacket. It’s my oversight. Come, while the medicine is still warm, drink it.”
The Emperor paused slightly, then finally opened his mouth and drank the black medicinal liquid.
As the medicine gradually reached the bottom, a hint of ruthlessness flashed in Han Lang’s eyes. He bit into the Emperor’s frost-cold lips, his tongue continuously pushing, sharing the bitterness in his mouth. After an unknown period of intertwined breaths, the Emperor suddenly turned his head away in embarrassment, leaning forward, wanting to escape his embrace, but then finally stopped moving obediently.
Han Lang smiled, his night-dark eyes shining under the lamp. “I know you are worried about your General Qin, but he spoke wrongly and conveyed the wrong message, so he should be punished. The neighboring Eastern Yi is a peaceful nation, and ten thousand taels of silver are enough for the military expenses stationed at the border. Yet he insisted on making it thirty thousand. Although it’s a small mistake, and the national treasury isn’t short of this extra twenty thousand, giving him a lesson to make him remember is still appropriate.”
The Emperor still seemed to be sulking, remaining silent and burying himself in reviewing.
“If you truly care for him, I will release him later.” Saying this, Han Lang pulled out the wolf-hair brush used for reviewing, tossed it aside, and with a smile, pulled him back into his embrace, kissing the young emperor’s lips again. His kisses trailed down the slender neck, his fingers loosening the bright yellow sash around the waist, exploring within, and caressing between his legs.
Initially, the violated body was slightly stiff and resistant, but later, his breathing also became rapid.
Han Lang sneered, then carried him horizontally into the inner chamber.
The satisfaction after passion made the Emperor fall into a deep sleep, but it made Han Lang’s mind exceptionally clear.
In the deep night, he got out of bed, tucked in the person beside him, then returned to the main hall, replaced the Emperor’s vermilion批 with a minister’s blue批, and continued to read the memorials.
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One night with a patron, Huarong earned six hundred taels, but also paid a small price.
The excitement of the military officer surnamed Hou was uncontrollable, and in the end, he used too much force, breaking Huarong’s right hand bone.
Huarong, however, was not discouraged. The next day, he took his servant to the clinic to have the bone set. After it was set, he even went to a painting studio and had someone draw an orchid on his bandage.
The orchid was painted vividly, and Huarong was very pleased. So, he took his servant out for a stroll.
This servant had a very distinct personality. Not only did he name himself Huagui, but he also walked proudly in front, not even glancing at his master.
Huarong hurried two steps, tapped his shoulder with a fan, and gestured, “Since you look down on me, you can just walk away.”
Huagui stood in the middle of the street, his voice louder than a gong, replying, “Why should I leave? You have no relatives. If you get screwed to death by a man one day, wouldn’t all your silver notes belong to me?”
Huarong was so angry he almost stumbled. He quickly opened his fan to fan himself, striking an extremely dashing pose for the passersby who were looking at him.
But Huagui, with his imposing demeanor, stood still for a moment and then said, “Master, I want to buy a sword and become a true man with ambition and ideals.”
This sentence, no matter how it was twisted, was still mocking Huarong. Huarong was too lazy to bother with him, simply smiling radiantly like spring flowers, accompanying him to choose a sword.
What good swords could be found being hawked loudly on the street? Huarong curled his lips in disdain all the way, until he stopped at the sight of a black-sheathed sword.
Huagui knew he had good taste, so he immediately drew the sword.
There was no imagined dazzling light; this sword was calm and gentle, emitting only a very low clang when drawn from its sheath, and an indescribable, refreshing chill.
The sword’s owner lowered his eyes and head, saying only one sentence: “This sword is two hundred taels, no bargaining.”
Huagui was momentarily speechless, then couldn’t help but turn to look at Huarong.
Huarong gestured that it was worth it, stretching his neck long, insisting on seeing the man’s hidden face.
The man looked up into the wind, his gaze sharp as he met Huarong’s, looking disheveled but forthright.
Huagui’s loud voice rang out again: “I want this sword, Master, pay quickly.”
Seeing his master glare at him, his voice grew even louder: “I have no money, and you shouldn’t be so stingy. Anyway, all your money will be mine after you die.”
Huarong stopped glaring at him, looking at the man’s clear eyebrows and eyes with a half-smile, and gestured again.
“How much to buy the person too?!” Huagui immediately jumped up: “Master, do you think all men are like you, that they can all be bought?!”
“My name is Lin Luoyin. I will redeem this sword another day.” The sword’s owner then spoke again, clasping his fists forward.
As he said this, his feet swayed, his face turned as pale as snow, and as he fell forward, he saw a figure flash, and someone gently supported him.
When Lin Luoyin woke up, he was, without exception, lying in bed. Someone was sitting quietly by his bed, and when he opened his eyes, that person smiled.
What a classic beauty-saves-hero trope, the only surprise was that “beauty” had to be preceded by “male.”
Huagui’s loud voice rang out from outside: “Dinner is ready. The doctor said that Sir Lin has internal injuries and is also starving. If Sir Lin is able to get up, please have dinner first.”
The food was extremely delicious. Lin Luoyin struggled to control his eating manners, while Huarong, as usual, ate liquid food: daughter red wine with thin porridge.
Huagui, on his own initiative, brought a bundle of silver and placed it with the black-sheathed sword, grandly announcing, “Sir, you are temporarily down on your luck. Take this silver to spend for now, and keep the sword.”
Huarong stopped drinking porridge, gestured, “I’m not dead yet.” Then he pulled out a two-hundred-tael silver note, and gathered the bundle and the sword into his arms.
After doing all this, he could still smile, and even raised his wine cup to toast Lin Luoyin from afar.
Lin Luoyin nodded, and as a result, this meal was extremely pleasant.
From beginning to end, Huarong never showed curiosity about him, and understood that his dignity could not accept charity.
Such a flamboyant man actually possessed a kind of profound understanding after knowing everything.
However, the final courtesies were unavoidable. He still clasped his fists: “Thank you for your rescue, Sir. Lin will surely repay you another day.”
Huarong gestured, implying that a hero recognizes a hero, so why should a great hero take it to heart?
As a result, Huagui, the translator, translated: “My master is a cunning villain. Even the doctor said that Sir Lin’s internal strength is abundant and rare in this world. When Sir Lin gains power in the future, please do not forget that my master’s name is Huarong.”
Lin Luoyin smiled, brushed off his tattered clothes, and bid farewell with natural grace, a fallen phoenix still composed.
At this moment, a young servant entered the door, dressed in a way that clearly showed his master’s status. He held a calling card and bowed his head: “My master, Assistant Minister Yu, asks if Young Master is free to visit his mansion tonight.”
Huarong gestured, and Huagui awkwardly translated, his voice sharp and grating: “My master says he is willing to serve Assistant Minister Yu even with his injury.”
The servant left with his orders, but Lin Luoyin remained in place, looking back with some disbelief.
Huagui’s voice became even sharper: “You don’t need to say anything. My master will definitely tell you that everyone has their own ambitions, and he also says that the thing he values least in this life is his reputation.”
This time, Huarong nodded, highly approving of Huagui’s words. He opened his signature folding fan with his left hand, revealing the words “Dian Qian Huan” (Joy Before the Palace).
Lin Luoyin could not say anything more, so he simply looked up and said goodbye again.
This glance happened to meet Huarong’s eyes. Lin Luoyin was stunned, losing himself for a moment.
Regardless of what kind of person he was, those eyes were like vast, misty waters. Looking into them, they seemed empty, yet also seemed to hold an unreachable depth.