Chapter 128.

Zheng Duobao watched the shift in the other man’s expression, clearly uneasy. Though he hesitated, he ultimately kept his mouth shut, deciding against speaking up for Xue Shu. Instead, he let out a faint sigh, bowed low, and left the room to summon the man in question.

Xue Shu arrived in haste from the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs.

Since Emperor Longfeng’s passing, Xue Shu had been buried under an avalanche of responsibilities. Gong Hongfei’s rebellion, Gao Xian’s death—both had left power vacuums.

Now, the Jinyiwei Guard, the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs, and both the Eastern and Western Secret Bureaus were under his temporary management. The palace’s imperial guards required reorganization and training, patrol routes had to be revised, and the influence of the two secret bureaus needed reshaping. On top of all that, trustworthy replacements had to be promoted and groomed.

No, Xue Shu wasn’t drowning in the endless affairs of state like Yin Chengyu, but to call him idle would’ve been a joke.

The moment he received word of the crown prince’s summons, Xue Shu dropped everything and made his way over. Outside the hall, Zheng Duobao’s face wore an odd mix of emotions. After a long moment of contemplation, he pulled Xue Shu aside, lowering his voice to deliver an unsolicited warning.

“You’ve been with His Highness long enough to know this,” Zheng Duobao began. “The prince is known for his generosity, sure, but he’s not one to spoil anyone blindly. Don’t get cocky because of his favor. Whatever you did to annoy him today, you’d better own up to it and fix your attitude. If you do, even when His Highness ascends to the throne, you’ll still have a place at his side.”

Zheng Duobao had observed plenty over the years, and it was obvious to him that the prince treated Xue Shu differently.

The prince, for all his self-discipline, had always avoided indulgences. He wasn’t driven by lust, unlike certain other royals. In his youth, many had tried to lure him astray—sending servants, scheming with underhanded intentions—but anyone who dared to entertain such thoughts found themselves swiftly dealt with.

At that time, even the Second and Third Princes, who were of similar age, had harems filled with concubines. The Third Prince, in particular, was notorious for his hedonism, even keeping young male companions.

But the crown prince? Not a single beauty handpicked by the empress herself had managed to stay. His focus was entirely on governance.

All these years, only Xue Shu had been the exception.

Zheng Duobao, assigned by Empress Yu to attend to the prince, had personally witnessed the boy grow into a man. Now, seeing how deeply Xue Shu was entwined with the prince’s life, he felt both joy and unease. It was impossible to determine if this situation was a blessing or a disaster.

At least Xue Shu was loyal to a fault—everything he did revolved around the prince.

With a conflicted sigh, Zheng Duobao patted Xue Shu’s arm. Seeing that the man remained silent, he assumed his words had hit home. Pushing open the door, he simply said, “Go on.”

Xue Shu furrowed his brow as he glanced at Zheng Duobao, perplexed by the sudden lecture. But one piece of information stuck out like a glaring beacon—His Highness was still angry.

Replaying yesterday’s events in his mind, Xue Shu pressed his lips into a thin line and stepped into the inner chamber.

The soft creak of the door drew Yin Chengyu’s gaze. As soon as he spotted Xue Shu, his eyes narrowed, and he let out a sharp huff through his nose.

Yesterday’s incident had left him annoyed, but after reflecting on it earlier, his irritation had mostly subsided. Something about Xue Shu’s recent behavior struck him as off, leaving him more curious than angry now.

Leaning back, Yin Chengyu tapped a finger against the armrest, his eyes cold and piercing.

“Was the bite mark on the back of my neck something you left intentionally?”

He expected Xue Shu to concoct some excuse, a logical defense for his actions. Instead, the man admitted fault without hesitation.

“Yesterday, I was... too caught up,” Xue Shu said, pausing briefly before adding, “I couldn’t control myself.”

The explanation was plausible, but Yin Chengyu’s eyes narrowed further as he studied the man before him.

Just as Xue Shu understood him, he understood Xue Shu. And something about this didn’t add up.

Xue Shu could be stubborn as hell when he wanted to, a locked box that wouldn’t yield under pressure. Forcing answers from him wouldn’t work. No, if Yin Chengyu wanted the truth, he’d have to find another way—something to coax the man into spilling his secrets willingly.

Yin Chengyu thought for a moment and decided to brush the matter aside. His tone was casual yet commanding: "Forget it. No one saw anything. I’ve been restless and sleepless these past days. Stay the night. Give me a head massage."

Xue Shu looked up at him, momentarily surprised, but obediently nodded without hesitation.

Later that evening, after wrapping up his duties in the Directorate of Rites, Xue Shu returned to the sleeping quarters in Ciqing Palace.

Zheng Duobao, seeing him enter, flashed a knowing smile, waved off the remaining attendants, and shut the door with care.

Inside the inner chamber, Yin Chengyu lounged languidly on a luohan bed, book in hand, exuding a relaxed yet detached air. When Xue Shu entered, he set the book aside and spoke without preamble, "There’s still hot water in the bath."

Xue Shu responded with a simple acknowledgment and went to bathe. When he emerged, clad in soft, lightweight inner robes, Yin Chengyu was already reclining on the bed, the book neatly stowed away. He patted the space beside him in a silent invitation.

Xue Shu climbed into the bed, and Yin Chengyu instinctively leaned into him, resting his head on Xue Shu’s lap and closing his eyes.

His silky, unbound hair cascaded over Xue Shu’s thighs, an irresistible texture beneath his fingers. Xue Shu threaded his hands through the strands, pressing his fingertips gently but firmly against Yin Chengyu’s temples. The measured pressure lulled Yin Chengyu into a state of ease; his body slackened, and his breathing deepened as sleep overtook him.

Xue Shu’s eyes darkened with desire as he studied the delicate contours of the sleeping man’s face, noting the faint bluish shadows under his eyes. Yin Chengyu had been running himself ragged, shouldering an unrelenting workload and burning through the nights without ever uttering a word of complaint.

Fingers brushing against those shadowed eyelids, Xue Shu continued his massage for a while longer before carefully shifting the sleeping man onto the pillow. With a feather-light touch, he tucked him in, extinguished the lamps, and let the darkness envelop the room.

Moving soundlessly, he climbed back into bed and adjusted to the faint light filtering through the curtains. His arms instinctively sought out Yin Chengyu, drawing him into a loose embrace.

The sleeping figure stirred faintly, turning his back to Xue Shu in search of comfort. Undeterred, Xue Shu buried his face into the crook of Yin Chengyu’s neck, breathing in deeply, his nose brushing against warm skin.

He couldn’t stop himself. His hands tugged at the loose neckline of Yin Chengyu’s robes, exposing the pale column of his neck. His dry lips pressed down, leaving deep red marks in their wake. One after another, he sucked and bit, marking the porcelain skin with a kind of frenzied, obsessive pride.

The next day, Zheng Duobao had been shocked by the teeth marks on Yin Chengyu’s neck but hadn’t dared to examine them too closely. If he had, he would have noticed the trail of red, one mark layering upon another, stretching further down beneath the fabric.

Now, new marks bloomed over the old, a stark and startling contrast against Yin Chengyu’s flawless skin. To Xue Shu, they were works of art, reminders of his claim. He held Yin Chengyu in an iron grip, arms and legs locking the other man in place with a possessive fervor. His lips returned to the marks he had left, tracing them over and over, his eyes brimming with a sick hunger, as if he could never get enough.

His gaze was dark and heavy, a maelstrom of suppressed desire and madness. In the privacy of the night, he unleashed the storm he kept buried deep within—a tempest so wild it threatened to consume him and the man in his arms.

And yet, his actions were paradoxically tender, almost reverent. His breathing was shallow and quiet, his touches restrained, careful not to wake the sleeping man. Even the arms coiled around Yin Chengyu’s waist maintained just the right pressure—not too tight, not enough to provoke escape.

He nuzzled against Yin Chengyu’s skin, lips mapping every inch, forehead pressed close as if to fuse their very beings together. He drank in the other man’s scent, clinging to him with a desperate need, as though only this proximity could momentarily soothe the feral beast that clawed at his insides.

The words of Ying Hongxue echoed unbidden in his mind, a bitter memory he couldn’t shake.

Not long ago, He Shan had secured a residence in the capital, and Ying Hongxue’s tavern had officially opened its doors. Neither had parents, nor did they care for the constraints of tradition, so they invited only Xue Shu to witness the occasion as they set a date for their marriage.

That night, all three drank to their hearts' content.

He Shan, predictably, drank the most and passed out, sprawled on the side, dead to the world.

Ying Hongxue, slightly drunk herself, let the wine loosen her tongue and said things she’d never dared to before.

She admitted she’d always suspected the truth about his connection to the prince. But she’d never pried. All she did was ask if he’d ever thought about what the future might hold.

The question left Xue Shu silent and uneasy.

For the first time, he realized something—he’d been entangled with Yin Chengyu across two lifetimes, but he’d never dared imagine what came next.

In their first life, there had been no future. Yin Chengyu had died young, and the story ended before it could begin.

In this life, things seemed perfect on the surface, yet the future was an enigma he couldn’t unravel.

Two lives lived, countless schemes played, and still, he feared it was all an illusion. He’d reached for the moon, grasping it with trembling hands, terrified it would vanish like mist between his fingers.

Because an emperor’s life was both privilege and prison.

A ruler carried the weight of a nation—a throne built on heirs and politics, not love.

In their first life, the Yu family’s downfall and the empress’s death had shielded Yin Chengyu from those expectations. His frail body had been enough of an excuse to dismiss the court’s pleas for a harem.

But this life was different.

The Yu family thrived. The empress stood secure as the most honored woman in the empire.

Only days ago, the Dowager Empress had summoned the noblewomen of the realm, allegedly scouting suitable brides for the prince.

Yin Chengyu was nineteen now, soon to reach adulthood. The nation awaited his coronation—and his empress.

And this time, Xue Shu had no grounds to stop it.

He could sabotage rivals or eliminate threats, but Yin Chengyu’s devotion to family was unshakable. Xue Shu had lived through one life to understand better than anyone that there was no winning against that bond.

What would happen when Yin Chengyu stood at the crossroads, forced to choose between him and the empress Yu?

That uncertainty clawed at Xue Shu, filling him with dread and doubt. He didn’t dare face it, didn’t dare gamble with his fragile hope. So he ran, hiding from the truth like a coward.

But if that day ever came… He’d go mad. Madder than he’d ever been in their past life.

Xue Shu exhaled deeply, trying to smother the surge of dark thoughts.

His hand found Yin Chengyu’s in the dark, fingers tightening, his teeth grazing the vulnerable curve of the prince’s neck. A predator, releasing pent-up fear and desire with a dangerous, possessive hunger.

“What’s this? Awake in the middle of the night to bite me?”

The prince’s sleepy voice pierced the quiet, sharp with amusement and irritation. Yin Chengyu moved fast, grabbing Xue Shu’s hand before he could pull away.

He turned, propping himself on an elbow, his sharp gaze pinning Xue Shu in the shadows.

Caught off guard, Xue Shu looked away, only to glance back moments later. Their eyes locked.

Neither spoke. The prince’s eyes gleamed, waiting, pressing him for an answer.

Xue Shu opened his mouth but found no words.

So instead, he acted.

Frustrated, he yanked the prince into a brutal embrace, their lips colliding in a savage clash of teeth and raw desperation. This wasn't tenderness; it was a hostile takeover, a desperate, physical outburst of the turmoil raging within him, a chaos he couldn't articulate with words.

Yin Chengyu winced at the sting of split lips but didn’t push him away.

He could feel it—the fear rolling off Xue Shu in waves, thick and suffocating.

With one hand, he tangled his fingers in Xue Shu’s hair, trailing down his neck and back in an effort to soothe. The other hand rested gently on Xue Shu’s brow.

His voice, hoarse but steady, asked: “Tell me. What are you so afraid of?”

———TN: Zheng Duobao had been onto their little affair the entire time, fully aware of every sneaky, sordid move they thought they were hiding.