Being a prince and a scion of a noble family, they were constantly watched. They had to be very careful. At the time, Emperor Jing thought to himself: no matter how hard it gets, it will only be a few years. Once the new emperor ascends, surely there will be room for a brother—one who holds a bit of influence, perhaps, but who is also a cut-sleeve and will have no heirs.
Then he and Shen Yi could leave the capital far behind, find some place with beautiful mountains and clear streams, and live in seclusion.
But change came abruptly. The two of them successively refused their arranged marriages; the gifts they exchanged and the looks they could not restrain when their eyes met became aberrations in the eyes of those who were paying attention.
Emperor Jing remembered it vividly. He had just begun his post in the Ministry of Revenue, and had just declined the marriage his mother had arranged for him. He had told Shen Yi: if the person beside him were Shen Yi, then there would be no one else.
Shen Yi felt the same way. They both knew the road ahead would be hard, yet their hearts were full of boundless joy.
It was an ordinary day. Shen Yi had been ill for several days and had not entered the palace. That day, Emperor Jing received a letter from him, saying he had been sick for days, felt terrible, and longed to see him.
Shen Yi rarely admitted to feeling unwell. Reading the letter, Emperor Jing's heart ached for him. He left the palace as fast as he could.
The wind that day was warm and pleasant against the skin. When Emperor Jing arrived at the Shen residence, Shen Yi’s father had his men seize him.
To lay hands on a prince was treason, but by then Shen’s father no longer cared.
The Shen family had never supported the powerless Emperor Jing in the first place. Shen's father reasoned that even if matters came to a head, a prince without a strong backing would not dare go too far. After all, the late emperor had no tolerance for scandal—if news of this got out, Emperor Jing would surely be cast out.
Not only would Emperor Jing himself be punished, but the Shen family would suffer as well.
Shen's father had considered exposing the matter outright, but he had to think of Shen Yi. In recent days, Shen Yi had gone on a hunger strike and threatened them, saying that if anything happened to Emperor Jing, he would dash his own head against the late emperor's feet.
Shen's father could not bear to lose his son, so he resorted to force to separate them.
He had Emperor Jing brought to the courtyard outside Shen Yi’s quarters.
That day the wind was scattering petals everywhere—over people, over the ground. From inside the room came a constant commotion. Emperor Jing, held fast by guards, struggled desperately, trying to break down the door. He wanted the person inside to come out.
He knew this was not Shen Yi's will—but he could not move. His hands stretched out, reaching for the door, yet he could not touch it. He wanted to shout, but his mouth was stuffed, and not a single word came out.
In all his years in the palace, Emperor Jing had never bowed his head—not to false accusations, not to punishment, not to injustice. But that day, staring at Shen Yi's closed door, his vision blurred.
When it was all over, Shen's father released him and said coldly, "Take care of yourself from now on."
Emperor Jing's legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, a wretched sight—nothing like a prince. At one point, he had even begged Shen's father on his knees, pleading with him to let Shen Yi go.
Shen's father looked down at him with cold, pitying eyes. "You do not look like a prince at all now," he said.
After Shen's father left, Emperor Jing slowly rose to his feet. He leaned against a tree behind him, using it to hold himself upright.
He lowered his head, straightened his robes, and made himself look neat and clean.
The day was not particularly cold, yet Emperor Jing shivered uncontrollably.
He leaned gently against the tree, drawing strength from it, as if it were the warmest place in the world.
When Shen Yi finally appeared, Emperor Jing looked at the horrified face before him—and even managed a smile.
Emperor Jing cast aside his pride. He refused to accept it. The last time he saw Shen Yi, he clasped his hand firmly and said, "Let’s leave everything behind. Let’s get out of the capital, find somewhere no one knows us, and live out our days in quiet simplicity."
He had even planned the route out of the city, with travel money tucked into his robes.
Emperor Jing thought he was perfectly calm—but he had no idea he was speaking in a jumbled, incoherent mess, his words practically laced with pleading.
Shen Yi watched him cry, and they both knew it was impossible.
But where could they even go? Without Shen Yi's father's permission, Shen Yi could not take a single step beyond the Shen residence.
Shen's father told them to think carefully—what path were they going to take? One wrong move would hurt not just themselves, but others as well.
Finally, Shen's father asked him directly: did he want the Shen family, its reputation, its power—or did he want the two of them to die in disgrace?
Living in this world wasn't just about two people. There were family members. There were responsibilities. It was a choice with only one real answer, and neither Emperor Jing nor Shen Yi had the right to decide.
At the time, Emperor Jing thought dying together might not be so bad. But in the end, things did not go as he wished.
The moment he left, Emperor Jing knew they would never see each other again.
When Emperor Jing returned to the palace, he fell severely ill.
During that time, the Shen family had Shen Yi resign from his post as study companion to the prince, on the pretext that he was to be married.
Meanwhile, Emperor Jing’s mother angered the late emperor and was placed under house arrest. Emperor Jing's maternal relatives were sent out of the capital. He had no one left by his side. He visited his mother in the cold palace and learned that all of this was the Shen family's doing—they had told her everything.
If she had not gone along with it, Prince Su would have found out about Emperor Jing and Shen Yi. Prince Su would not have done anything to Shen Yi, but he would certainly have schemed against Emperor Jing.
The Shen family's intention was clear: they wanted to cut off every possibility of Emperor Jing ever becoming emperor. To clip his wings. And if things did not go that way, they would at most throw Shen Yi to the wolves.
The only reason the Shen family had not told Prince Su and used the information against him was that Shen Yi had threatened them with his own life.
For the sake of her son, his mother had no choice but to do as they asked.
From that day on, Emperor Jing craved power. He craved the throne. Desire for authority took root in his heart and grew—he wanted everything.
What had happened between him and Shen Yi seemed as though it had never existed. No rumors, no gossip circulated inside or outside the palace. Emperor Jing knew Shen Yi must have had a hand in that, yet his heart felt neither sorrow nor joy.
On the day Shen Yi married, Emperor Jing sent a gift—neither too lavish nor too modest, the kind that would not invite suspicion.
Behind the Shen family stood Prince Su, whose power was immense. Emperor Jing appeared perfectly composed.
For days and nights on end, Emperor Jing could not sleep. He was not thinking of Shen Yi, but of the situation at hand.
The Shen family would not tell Prince Su about him and Shen Yi—otherwise, Prince Su would surely seize the chance to have him killed. As long as he stayed alive, many things remained possible.
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