AEOGA CH19

When the crowd entered the main hall, none of them dared to look around or eavesdrop. They properly lowered their heads, bowing to greet the Empress.

“We pay our respects to Your Highness the Empress.”

Soon, a crisp, clear male voice echoed from the seat above.

“You may rise. Award them seats.”

As everyone stood up and lifted their heads, they all froze in unison.

Could such a divine, celestial figure truly exist in this mortal world?

When it came to appearance, not a single person present was lacking. As a severe visual enthusiast, Hua Yan’s greatest joy after entering the palace was being able to admire so many beauties every day; it was completely pleasing to the eyes. But none of them had ever been beautiful enough to take his breath away or make him utterly surrender. Even when facing Liu Yangsheng, who possessed the most radiant elegance, Hua Yan privately believed his own looks weren’t inferior. If he absolutely had to pick the most beautiful person in the palace, he would have chosen the Emperor.

Some busybody had once drawn up a ranking of Changli’s most handsome men: Qin Yulong was fourth, Liu Yangsheng was third, and Xie Zhongjin was second. Hua Yan felt that list was highly inflated, ordered entirely by social status. He was better-looking than Qin Yulong, yet his name was nowhere to be found—wasn’t that simply because he came from a humble background and lacked renown, so he wasn’t factored in at all?

But out of curiosity, he had still asked, “Who is first? To the point of surpassing the Emperor?”

Placing someone above the Emperor was an act of usurpation; to risk such a charge just to rank him above the Son of Heaven meant his beauty had to be earth-shattering.

The other person had replied, “It is that fourteen-year-old Zhuangyuan, who later became the Crown Princess, and is currently the deposed Empress residing in the Cold Palace… Lu Xuechao.”

Lu Xuechao—wasn’t that the Emperor’s white moonlight?

For a time, Hua Yan had assumed he was being used by the Emperor as a substitute for Lu Xuechao; otherwise, why did His Majesty constantly visit him, yet never touch him, and always bring up his white moonlight? But Hua Yan harbored no ill will toward this white moonlight.

He recalled that the very first time he had heard the name Lu Xuechao, it wasn’t attached to titles like “white moonlight,” “Crown Princess,” or “Empress,” but rather the accolade of “the fourteen-year-old Zhuangyuan.”

A Zhuangyuan so remarkably young was unprecedented and unrepeatable. Lu Xuechao had shaken the world at the tender age of fourteen, becoming the ultimate role model for all scholars. Back when he first passed the imperial examinations, every street and alley in Changli was discussing that name, marveling that such a genius youth existed in the world.

Hua Yan was still in the brothel at the time. Listening to the revered and praising words of others, a sense of admiration and yearning had stirred in his heart. He didn’t care for studying; compared to the Four Books and Five Classics, he preferred reading romantic storybooks. Yet, he deeply envied scholars.

It was plain to see that he would spend his entire life struggling in the secular world, and his literacy was merely to help him match the refined tastes of his guests and please them. But there were many others in the world who studied for their own sake, who could serve their sovereign, country, and people in the future, who could see their names on the golden roster, secure a brilliant future, and forge their own life’s worth.

How could he not be envious?

“Come look, come look! The Zhuangyuan is parading through the streets!” someone had shouted at the top of their lungs.

The male courtesans swarmed to the windows like a flock of bees to watch the excitement, every single one stretching their necks, desperate to catch a glimpse of the youngest Zhuangyuan in history.

“He’s coming, he’s coming! The one riding the horse is him!”

“This young Zhuangyuan is exceptionally handsome, with red lips and white teeth. Give him a few more years, and he will be absolutely peerless!”

“Why would he need a few more years? Isn’t his current elegance already the talk of the capital?”

“Good heavens, at my age, having received more guests than the water I’ve drunk, my heartstrings are actually being plucked by a fourteen-year-old young master.”

Hua Yan had wanted to watch too, but every window was packed with people. Because he was young and small in stature, he couldn’t squeeze through from the back of the crowd, so he could only keep hopping up and down, attempting to jump and see.

He was simply too short; even jumping yielded nothing.

Only after everyone had dispersed did he run over to the windowsill, standing on his tiptoes and gripping the frame to look out, but the young Zhuangyuan had already ridden far away. He didn’t see his face, only the ten-mile-long street lined with blooming flowers, citizens crowding the pathways, and fruits thrown into his carriage in admiration.

A silhouette clad in vibrant, fresh red, riding atop a snow-white stallion, followed by the grand and majestic ceremonial procession of the Zhuangyuan street parade, gradually fading into the distance.

Hua Yan didn’t know many poems; most of what he had been taught were erotic verses meant to flatter guests. But at that exact moment, looking at that receding figure, two lines of poetry came to his mind:

Riding high on the spring breeze, the horse’s hooves fly swift, In a single day, I have viewed all the blossoms of Chang’an.

A youth in brilliant garments atop a spirited horse.

Some people are radiant with a million beams of light, while others are covered in a coat of rust.

The Emperor claimed that Lu Xuechao was like a reflection of a flower in a mirror or the moon in water, but to Hua Yan, he was the true moon in the heavens, while Hua Yan himself was the mud on the ground. When the difference was as vast as clouds and dirt, how could they ever be compared? He barely had enough time to admire him; how could he possibly be jealous?

Six years flew by in a flash, and Hua Yan had finally beheld that moon-like countenance.

With just a single glance, Hua Yan knew with absolute certainty that he was no substitute.

He looked nothing like Lu Xuechao. In fact, it was safe to say that within the entire imperial harem, not a single soul could bear a resemblance to Lu Xuechao.

Hua Yan was like a peach blossom, vivid and full of vibrant color, capable of holding his own even when standing alongside Liu Yangsheng, who resembled a verdant pine and cypress. At this moment, though the entire courtyard was filled with fragrant blooms, they all paled into insignificance beneath that shade of snow-white.

The fresh red of his memory had been replaced by the pristine white before his eyes. The young man seated above no longer possessed the high-spirited aura of his boyhood; he looked somewhat frail and sickly, entirely cloaking his sharp edges within. Upon his pale face, only the clear red of his lips stood out distinctly, transparent like jade, flawless and refined. His eyelashes were half-lowered, exuding a frosty chill.

How could this be mistaken for an ordinary color? Its richness or subtlety is dictated entirely by his icy snow.

The number one beauty under heaven—he fully lived up to his reputation.

Hua Yan’s affection meter for Lu Xuechao filled to the maximum in an instant. First, he revered scholars, and second, he appreciated great beauties. Lu Xuechao embodied the absolute pinnacle of both; Hua Yan fell in love instantly.

No one who laid eyes on Lu Xuechao for the first time could escape being utterly captivated. Even though Wang Yiming and Lin Chanzhi had seen him before, experiencing his presence at such close quarters still left their souls ensnared by that complexion that surpassed frost and rivaled snow.

The first to snap back to reality was Qin Yulong. The Qin and Lu families were old family friends; the two had known each other since childhood and shared an excellent relationship. Later, Lu Xuechao went to the Eastern Palace to serve as a strategist, while Qin Yulong went to train in the military camps, causing them to part ways.

Qin Yulong had undergone intensive, closed-off training in the frontier military camps for two years before marching out to battle against the Xifeng Kingdom. Though he had vaguely heard rumors of the Emperor growing increasingly muddled and incompetent, he hadn’t taken them to heart. When he was a child and went to find Brother Xuechao to play, he often ran into the Crown Prince visiting the Prime Minister’s estate as well, so the three of them would play together. Since he was the youngest, both Lu Xuechao and Xie Zhongjin treated him like a younger brother. On the day Qin Yulong left the capital for the distant frontier, it was Xie Zhongjin and Lu Xuechao who had jointly hosted a farewell banquet for him.

Because of their interactions during childhood, Qin Yulong naturally trusted Xie Zhongjin’s character. The foundation of a wise ruler was right there; no matter how muddled he became, he couldn’t possibly sink too low. Besides, with Brother Xuechao watching over him, it was impossible for the Emperor to act too outrageously. The Emperor listened to Brother Xuechao’s words above all else.

Who could have guessed that upon returning to the capital after winning the war, he would hear that Brother Xuechao had been thrown into the Cold Palace for three whole years, and that the Emperor hadn’t held court for three years either?

Qin Yulong found it impossible to believe. Bound by his deep sense of loyalty, when the Emperor was deliberating rewards based on military merit, he had wanted to request a favor—asking His Majesty to release Brother Xuechao from the Cold Palace. Little did he know that before the words could even leave his mouth, the Emperor had brought even him into the harem.

Qin Yulong practically suspected that the Emperor had been possessed by a malevolent spirit. Fortunately, not long after entering the palace, he discovered that the Emperor had only acted that way because he was afflicted by a Gu poison.

Lu Xuechao’s gaze swept across the array of men, each possessing their own unique merits. The first person he chose to address was indeed Qin Yulong: “Yulong, guarding the frontier must have been hard on you.”

He pointedly made no mention of Qin Yulong defeating the Xifeng Kingdom. After all, the Ninth Prince of Xifeng was right here; bringing it up would inevitably cause awkwardness. Lu Xuechao possessed an exceptionally high emotional and intellectual intelligence, knowing exactly how to accommodate everyone.

Qin Yulong immediately stood up, instinctively wanting to call out “Brother Xuechao,” but remembering that their statuses today were different from the past, he clasped his hands in a martial salute and said, “I thank Your Highness for your consideration. To defend the territories for the nation and battle across the four directions is my honor.”

Lu Xuechao looked at him. “Even you are speaking to me in official jargon.”

Qin Yulong replied, “These are my true words.”

He genuinely took pride in charging across the battlefield and protecting his home and country. For a majestic eagle to be kept inside a golden cage was the ultimate disgrace.

He Lianxi sat expressionless, secretly grumbling in his heart: Your honor, yet my ultimate humiliation.

This entire room was filled with citizens of Changli. As a prince of Xifeng, nothing he said would be appropriate, so he could only do his best to diminish his presence and act as an invisible person. This Changli Empress appeared to share a decent relationship with Qin Yulong. Since he opposed Qin Yulong at every turn, would he be targeted and given a hard time in the future…?

“This must be the Ninth Prince of Xifeng, correct?” Just as He Lianxi was secretly fretting over his future, he was called out by name by Lu Xuechao.

Caught completely off guard, his body jolted. He hurriedly stood up, lowering his voice: “…Yes.”

It wasn’t surprising for the Empress to recognize him; after all, among all the men in the room, he alone possessed a cinnabar mark between his brows. This was the distinctive trait of males from the Xifeng Kingdom.

He Lianxi didn’t want to bow and scrape before citizens of an enemy state, but when a man is under someone else’s roof, he has no choice but to lower his head. Unless, of course, he wanted to die. He didn’t want to die just yet; if he perished, his Imperial Father and Elder Sister would be devastated.

Lu Xuechao inquired gently, “Is the Ninth Prince accustomed to living in Changli? If there are any signs of being unaccustomed to the climate, do not hesitate to summon the imperial physicians. Do not treat yourself as a stranger.”

He Lianxi sneered cold formulas in his heart. Living like a floating piece of duckweed, dependent on the charity of others—how could I ever be accustomed to it? I am an outsider; how could I not treat myself as a stranger? Why bother pretending to care about something we both know perfectly well?

He Lianxi dared to snap back sharply even when facing the enemy state’s Emperor. Just as he was about to lift his head to answer, he caught sight of the elegant, cool beauty’s smiling expression—it was like ice and snow melting, like the brush of a gentle spring breeze.

The harsh words that had risen to his throat were violently choked back down.

The youth’s beautiful face suddenly flushed a bright crimson.

But… but he smiled at me.

He looks so beautiful when he smiles, and his tone is so gentle. That’s exactly how my Imperial Father speaks to me.

Since arriving in Changli, aside from relentlessly picking fights with Qin Yulong, He Lianxi rarely interacted with anyone else, and naturally, the others didn’t grow close to him either. Qin Yulong met him with nothing but cold sarcasm and mockery; no one had ever used such a tender tone to speak with him.

Even though he knew the Empress might just be acting out of courtesy, the simple-natured young prince found himself utterly incapable of responding with venom. Whoever is good to me, I will be good to them in return. This was He Lianxi’s golden rule of conduct.

“Your Highness the Empress, I… I am doing quite well,” He Lianxi answered haltingly, his voice very soft due to his shyness.

Qin Yulong, entirely devoid of romantic sensibility, remarked, “Did you fail to eat your breakfast? Do you lack the strength to speak?”

This little prince actually had moments where he grew so shy and flushed that he didn’t dare speak up. Yet when dealing with him, the boy was always full of energy, capable of hurling a hundred insults without ever repeating a single word. Qin Yulong felt inexplicably irritated. Of course, he would never feel irritated with Brother Xuechao, so he directed all his annoyance toward He Lianxi.

He Lianxi gritted his teeth, desperately wanting to fire back: “I’ve already eaten my breakfast, I just felt like throwing it up after laying eyes on you.”

Calm down. In front of Her Highness the Empress, I cannot speak in such a manner.

He Lianxi managed to force a sliver of a smile: “I dare not speak in a loud voice, for fear of startling the celestial being above.”

This was an explicit compliment, painting Lu Xuechao as an immortal.

Hua Yan’s eyes lit up. How cultured! I must quickly note this down and use it in my storybooks.

Qin Yulong’s face was a picture of stifled frustration. He Lianxi was accomplished in both the literary and martial arts, whereas Qin Yulong’s literary talent fell far short of his martial prowess. Compared to his cultural wit, he had indeed lost this round. He thought gloomily to himself that he should just grab his Yulong Spear and have a proper duel with this Ninth Prince; this kind of verbal sparring and courtly manipulation was entirely unsuited to his nature. Unfortunately, brawling was strictly forbidden within the palace walls.

Lu Xuechao: “……”

What kind of juvenile palace struggle is this?

He bypassed this pair of bickering rivals and went on to greet the others one by one.

The remaining few were highly disciplined, offering no out-of-line remarks. Fu Xinian’s expression betrayed a faint hint of excitement, akin to the joy of meeting one’s ultimate idol, but he forcefully maintained his composure, refusing to lose his decorum. He was an eighteen-year-old Tanhua scholar, already ranked as a prominent young genius in the history of the imperial examinations. While countless individuals spent their entire lives studying desperately just to secure a degree, remaining mere Tongsheng candidates even past sixty, Fu Xinian was already considered a favored child of heaven, a dragon among men.

Yet, in front of Lu Xuechao, who had become a Zhuangyuan at fourteen, he was still eclipsed.

During his long years of studying by the cold window, Fu Xinian had read many of the essays composed by Lu Xuechao, marveling more than once at how someone could possess such immense scholarship and profound insight at a mere fourteen years of age. He had sworn that if he could ever grant himself an audience with the man, he would definitely debate scholarship and philosophy with him for three days and three nights. Beholding the legend in the flesh, how could he not be ecstatic? It was merely that he was a man of letters, naturally reserved; no matter how thrilled he felt, he wouldn’t let it manifest too obviously.

When it came to Hua Yan, he didn’t bound himself to so many protocols, speaking forthrightly: “Your Highness the Empress is truly a divine figure. His Majesty usually praises Your Highness to the point of being unmatched in heaven and unparalleled on earth. I didn’t quite believe it before, but seeing you today, I truly feel Your Highness is an immortal who has descended to the mortal realm.”

He simply loved looking at beauties, and beauties deserved to be showered with praise.

“Oh?” Lu Xuechao arched an eyebrow. “How exactly does he praise me?”

Hua Yan laughed and said, “Oh, it’s far too much to count. One moment he says you are the God of Literature reincarnated, composing essays with the finest skill and greatest speed, and that as long as you were present in the academy, he would invariably place second. The next moment, he claims you are the Flower Deity reborn; during the Qiongfang Feast, you once portrayed the Plum Blossom Deity, and from that point on, his eyes could only perceive you, completely forgetting what the other flower deities even looked like. He also mentioned you were… what was it again?”

Liu Yangsheng calmly picked up the thread: “He also mentioned that Your Highness is a Bodhisattva incarnate, possessing such boundless kindness that you would even return a baby bird blown down by the wind back to its tree.”

Shen Hezhou stepped in to supply the finer details: “His Majesty specifically emphasized that he was holding you in his arms while you placed the bird back on the branch.”

Lu Xuechao listened without breaking expression, but upon hearing Shen Hezhou’s detailed addition, he finally couldn’t resist lifting his sleeve to cover his face under the pretense of sipping his tea, using the gesture to mask a flush of crimson that was quietly creeping up his ears.

…Huaiyun is truly too much. Why does he tell everyone everything?

And exactly how many people has he recounted that incident to?! Why does it seem like every single person in this room knows about it?!

Lu Xuechao remembered the bird incident vividly as well.

He was fourteen at the time, right at the age when his romantic awareness was just beginning to bud, yet he and Huaiyun hadn’t explicitly cleared the air between them. A sense of innocent, hazy, and misty ambiguity always lingered between the two. At that age, elders already constantly lectured them that “men should maintain a proper physical distance,” and they could no longer hold hands or embrace without reservations as they did in their childhood. Xie Zhongjin and Lu Xuechao hadn’t shared even a single instance of slightly intimate physical contact.

It had rained heavily the night before, and a fledgling bird from a nest up in the tree had been blown down by the wind. Lu Xuechao wanted to return the bird to its home. But since he didn’t know how to climb trees, he called upon Xie Zhongjin to lift him up so he could place the bird back into the nest.

Xie Zhongjin agreed without a second thought. He gathered him into his arms, lifted him toward the branches, and let Lu Xuechao personally return the bird to its home.

After they came back down, Xie Zhongjin had teased, “Qingshu, you are brilliant for a lifetime, so why did you act a bit foolish this once? Wouldn’t it have been better if I used my lightness martial arts to fly up and return the bird directly? Why go through the trouble of having me hold you while you cradled the bird? Isn’t this entirely redundant? Or perhaps—”

The teenage Xie Zhongjin had let out a low chuckle: “Qingshu simply wanted me to hold you?”

“Thinking about it this way, Qingshu is still incredibly clever…”

“Shut up.” The teenage Lu Xuechao, his hidden thoughts thoroughly exposed, had walked away in an absolute fit of embarrassment. After taking a few steps, he spun right back around and challenged calmly, “Since you realized you could just fly up, why did you choose to go through the redundant motion of holding me?”

Xie Zhongjin: “……”

Lu Xuechao had smiled: “Huaiyun, you clearly wanted to hold me as well.”

Xie Zhongjin had remained utterly speechless for a long moment, seemingly entirely at a loss for how to counter.

Lu Xuechao had cast his eyes down, wondering if he was merely indulging in unrequited wishful thinking, when he heard Xie Zhongjin murmur in a soft, tentative voice: “I didn’t just want to hold you… I wanted to kiss you too.”

Lu Xuechao’s long eyelashes trembled slightly. He closed his eyes briefly, lifting his chin a fraction.

Xie Zhongjin’s eyes widened in sheer nervousness: “Is it… is it truly alright?”

Lu Xuechao: “……” You are so annoying.

But pushing through his immense shame, he had still given a tiny nod of affirmation.

Thus, Xie Zhongjin had pinned him against the tree trunk, bracing one hand beside him, striking an aggressive pose as though he intended to steal a fierce, commanding kiss. Lu Xuechao had been incredibly tense himself, his eyelashes fluttering non-stop, fully prepared to be kissed until he ran entirely out of breath.

In the end, Xie Zhongjin had carefully and tenderly pressed a tiny kiss against his forehead.

The contact was broken the instant it occurred.

“We will kiss on the lips after we are wed,” Xie Zhongjin had declared with absolute solemnity. Then, his ears flushing a bright red, he had asked anxiously, “Qingshu, if I propose marriage to you… you will accept, right?”

…

The romantic feelings of youth had shattered the window pane of ambiguity just like that.

When Xie Zhongjin thought back on it later in life, he felt he owed a debt of gratitude to that bird, going as far as to construct a golden sanctuary for that specific avian family. Naturally, as a major turning point in the relationship between Xie Zhongjin and Lu Xuechao, the bird’s nest incident became an indispensable fixture in his storytelling repertoire.

Xie Zhongjin took absolute, tireless delight in recounting his love story with Lu Xuechao to everyone he met.

Flaunting his affection was one facet of it. Ensuring that others wouldn’t fall in love with him was another.

None of the concubines in the imperial harem had been taken by his own volition. He had been forced by an invisible hand to trigger some sweet, specialized plotlines, approaching others with calculated intent to win their affection—which was a complete deception of their emotions. In the event that someone was truly deceived and handed their heart over to him, he would never be able to return it, leaving him with a lifetime of guilt. Therefore, he chose to repeatedly remind everyone that his heart belonged to another, remaining unwavering until death.

The strategy yielded excellent results; indeed, not a single person was fooled by the sweet talk within his specialized plotlines, every single one of them remaining completely clear-headed.

…And there was one final facet: it was a fallback option Xie Zhongjin was securing for himself. He fervently hoped he would never have to deploy this safety net, but he was forced to plan for a rainy day.

He had been controlled for far too long, and he had no way of knowing when he would completely lose his conscious awareness, utterly supplanted by the puppeteer manipulating him. If that dark day truly arrived, then since he was telling everyone right now how deeply he loved Lu Xuechao, everyone would likewise remind him in the future that Lu Xuechao was the person he cherished above all else.

He could only pray that his future self, entirely stripped of self-control, would remember this single absolute truth—

Do not hurt Lu Xuechao. I beg of you.