Shen Yi had so many questions—but didn't know where to start.
Noticing the weariness on Emperor Jing's face, he prepared a simple meal himself, then showed him to a room to rest.
Emperor Jing raised no objections to any of it. So many years had passed since he'd last seen Shen Yi—never once had he imagined their reunion would look like this.
That night, Emperor Jing lay in an unfamiliar room, closed his eyes, and drifted off without knowing when.
Then he dreamed of Da Qi. He dreamed of himself and Shen Yi.
After Emperor Jing ascended the throne, he knew what the world said of him: a parricide, a fratricide, cruel and tyrannical. He couldn't have cared less. That throne had been won through blood, and the accusations weren't wrong.
From the moment he sat upon it, his word was law. Everyone feared him. He was alone—and he was content with that.
No one knew that Emperor Jing had never wanted to be emperor. The path was far too harsh. His ambitions had never been grand; he was neither the eldest nor the legitimate son. The late emperor had treated him with nothing but indifference, and the odds of his succession had been slim.
Every prince coveted the throne—but some faced reality, some knew their limits, and some simply refused to turn back until they'd hit a wall.
Emperor Jing met Shen Yi. And Shen Yi became the one obstacle he could never overcome.
On certain nights, as Emperor Jing lay sprawled across his vast dragon bed, a thought would cross his mind: if Shen Yi had never been chosen as his study companion that year, would things have turned out differently? But everyone knew—time can't be rewound, can't flow backward.
Truth be told, most of the time Emperor Jing did not think of Shen Yi at all.
He had far too much to occupy him—the backbiting and scheming of his ministers in the court, the countless disasters plaguing Da Qi, the squabbles among the women in the rear palace, and the frequent summons of Daoist Qingxu to brew him elixirs of immortality.
Shen Yi simply was not on his radar.
It was in the thirty-third year of Emperor Jing's life. One morning, upon rising, he coughed up blood—a lot of it—and no one knew. That winter was bitter cold. Standing atop a high pavilion in the palace, he gazed into the distance at the road leading out of the capital. There were few travelers on it, and it looked impossibly far away. Then, suddenly, he thought of Shen Yi.
Before he became Emperor Jing's companion, Shen Yi was already famous in the capital — a celebrated prodigy, skilled in both scholarship and martial arts, and highly prized by the Shen family. His reputation had spread so far that word of him even reached the palace.
Back then, Emperor Jing never imagined their fates would become so deeply entwined.
He remembered clearly the day the late emperor announced he had chosen a companion for him and ordered the Shen family to deliver the boy to the palace that very same day. From this, one could see that the imperial family was rather capricious.
Shen Yi arrived in deep azure robes, his face still round with a hint of baby fat.
Even as a child, Shen Yi was strikingly handsome. He wore a perfectly courteous smile, like a clever little fox trying to charm everyone around him.
But Emperor Jing took one look at him and decided the boy was completely insincere.
Shen Yi, for his part, thought the prince was feigning a seriousness far beyond his years — not the least bit like a proper youth.
At first, they kept each other at arm's length. Both wore masks. Neither moved closer. Both were wary.
Until one day Shen Yi overheard someone call Emperor Jing the coffin-faced prince—saying just one look from him could suck all the life out of a room.
Without thinking, Shen Yi stormed over and started a fight with the speaker on the spot.
The speaker was none other than the Empress Dowager’s own nephew, a young man she doted on, often summoned to the palace, and who had grown up with an arrogant, disrespectful temper.
Shen Yi did not care one bit. He gave the boy a thorough beating.
By the time Emperor Jing arrived at the scene, the Empress Dowager had already sent someone to take her nephew away. Shen Yi, his face bruised and bloodied, turned to him with a smug, defiant grin.
Emperor Jing frowned at him, clearly disapproving. But Shen Yi dropped his voice and murmured, barely audible: "Don't worry. I've heard His Majesty has been unhappy with him lately and was just waiting for a chance to knock him down a peg. Even if the Empress Dowager tries to intervene, he won't come out of this well."
At that time, the Empress Dowager was soft-natured and easily swayed. She wanted to favor her own family, but never presumed to act high and mighty before the late emperor. Lately, however, she had overreached, and the late emperor was in a foul mood—it was only natural he would seize a chance to rein her in.
The Empress Dowager's indulgence of her relatives had made them overstep, and the late emperor resented it deeply.
Shen Yi's timing in picking that fight was perfect—because it involved a prince.
No matter how favored the Empress Dowager's nephew was, he was still only a nephew, of a different surname. Emperor Jing was a prince—not the most valued, but not invisible either. If this matter were brought to light, the ones who would end up suffering would not be Emperor Jing and those on his side.
At the time, Emperor Jing furrowed his brow and asked, "Why did you fight him?"
Shen Yi did not hide it. He repeated what the boy had said about Emperor Jing.
"And that alone was enough?" Emperor Jing asked.
Shen Yi raised his clear, bright eyes, gave a slight raise of his brow, and said unhurriedly, "Yes. I am your companion now. We are one—your glory is mine, your loss is mine. Naturally, I must protect you."
At that moment, Emperor Jing felt something stir in his heart, as if a hand had gently plucked a string—an odd, numbing ache mixed with a sourness he could not name.
From then on, their relationship improved considerably. At least, they were no longer distant.
Life in the palace was never easy. As they grew older, troubles of all kinds piled up.
Emperor Jing was a prince, forever entangled in one affair after another, and the people around him were always targets for scheming.
In the years that followed, he stood up for Shen Yi again and again. And Shen Yi took the hits and swallowed the humiliation in his place.
When Emperor Jing fell ill, Shen Yi tended to him. When Shen Yi was unwell, Emperor Jing stole out of the palace to visit him.
When people spend enough time together, they inevitably grow close.
Neither could say exactly when their hearts had started to tilt toward the other. Recognizing one's own feelings always takes a trigger—and the palace was never short of scandalous sights. Once, by chance, Emperor Jing and Shen Yi came upon someone taking advantage of a eunuch in a degrading manner.
In that moment, both were mortified, flustered, and frightened.
It took them a long while to come to terms with their own hearts. At first, there was hesitation, unease, and confusion—but in the end, neither could let go. Eventually, through a series of events, they confessed their feelings, and all their anxieties turned into joy.
Emperor Jing was a prince, but neither the eldest nor the legitimate son—the throne was far from his reach. Still, in an environment like that, one could not help but harbor some ambition.
When he realized his own feelings, he thought: at least it is not too late. He told himself that being a leisurely prince, a figurehead with no real power, would not be so bad—at least he would not have to bear too much weight.
Days spent with the one you love always slip by too fast.
The affection between the two young men was hidden in their eyes—whenever they looked at each other, a smile would flicker there.
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