Chapter 88.

The bet was just a verbal agreement, but it was made in front of the three kingdoms' royal families, making it official. Even if Aharu hated the idea, he couldn’t back out now.

After much back-and-forth, it was decided that the Oirat and the Tatar would each contribute 5,000 warhorses—4,000 stallions and 1,000 mares. The remaining number would be gathered after the New Year by the Great Yan and delivered later to complete the tribute.

Together, that was a total of 10,000 warhorses.

If converted to silver, that’s over a million taels!

If this were considered military expenditure, who knew how long it would take to haggle with the Ministry of War.

But now, it was all free money!

The elderly, grinning Imperial Minister of the Court of Imperial Horses squeezed his way into the Tatar and Oirat envoys' group with his wine cup in hand, eager to discuss the delivery of horses. He wasn’t just talking; he had someone bring out paper and ink to write up a formal contract.

Not only was the immediate horse delivery outlined, but even the number and estimated date for the additional horses after the New Year were recorded, as if to make sure the Tatar and Oirat couldn’t back out.

The Tatar and Oirat envoys were visibly green-faced as they stamped their seals on the contract.

*

The hunting competition was over, and the Danxi winter hunt was nearing its end.

After preparations, the group set out to return to the capital on the first day of December.

As per tradition, the two kingdoms’ envoys should have left after the winter hunt, but this year, the Tatar would marry into the Great Yan, so they stayed to discuss the details of the alliance, delaying their return to Tatar and heading back to Wangjing.

Oirat, unable to gain any advantage, had its own share of resentment. Mubai’er’s injury hadn’t healed, and unwilling to return empty-handed, he stayed behind as well.

The returning group was even larger than before, taking three days on the road before finally reaching the capital.

Emperor Longfeng had caught a cold on the way and went straight to the Qianqing Palace, entrusting all the reception matters for Oirat and Tatar to Yin Chengyu.

Before he left, however, he called for Xue Shu.

When Gao Xian arrived, his face was tight with displeasure, and his voice was sharper than usual. “Xue Shu, the Emperor requests your presence. Come with me.”

Xue Shu gave him a cold glance, then with a brief nod to Yin Chengyu, stepped down from his carriage and followed Gao Xian to meet the emperor.

The emperor, sick and weak, had refused to see anyone but the court physicians for the past few days.

Xue Shu approached the carriage and, standing outside, greeted the emperor through the curtain.

The emperor did not speak, merely raising an eyebrow as if contemplating what was really wrong with his illness.

They arrived at the Qianqing Palace.

Inside, the eunuchs and female attendants had already set up thick cotton curtains to block the cold wind, and only then did the emperor step down, supported by attendants.

Xue Shu couldn’t help but notice the new white hairs mixed into the emperor’s hair, his once-strong frame now slightly hunched, looking at least ten years older than before.

It didn’t seem like just a cold; it looked like something more serious.

Thinking about what the emperor had been fed in the last half-year, a flicker of emotion passed through Xue Shu’s eyes, but he quickly masked it, returning to his calm demeanor.

The emperor was escorted into the palace, where the heated floor provided some relief from the cold. He shed his heavy fur coat and took medicine under the attendants’ care before finally looking toward Xue Shu, who was waiting quietly by the side.

He sized the man up for a long time before dragging his tone out with a deliberate question: “Do you know why I called you here?”

“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor smirked but didn’t pursue the topic further. Instead, he shifted gears, his voice cold and sharp: “Earlier, I had you attend to me in the Ciqing Palace. Did that leave you with any resentment?”

“No resentment, Your Majesty.”

“None at all? Or you just don’t dare feel any?” The Emperor leaned forward slightly, his murky eyes locking onto him with a piercing intensity, as if he could see through to his very soul.

“Thunder and rain alike are your grace, Your Majesty. I hold no resentment,” Xue Shu met his gaze boldly, his eyes clear and unafraid.

At last, the Emperor seemed satisfied and eased up on the questioning, his tone softening. “You saved my life in the hunting grounds. Do you have any reward in mind?”

Xue Shu shook his head. “Protecting the Emperor is my duty. I would never dare ask for a reward.”

The Emperor’s smile returned, a little warmer now. He seemed pleased with the man’s directness. “You’re straightforward, aren’t you?”

The last time he had summoned Xue Shu, it was over his near-fatal rescue of the Crown Prince. Back then, the Emperor had been angry, seeing it as disobedience, and had demoted Xue Shu to menial work in the Ciqing Palace. But after the hunting grounds incident, he had started to reconsider. Xue Shu’s actions during the chaos, risking his life to save the Crown Prince, seemed more a matter of duty than allegiance.

Had Xue Shu wanted to, he could have stayed safe, but he had chosen to act.

The Emperor couldn't ignore that.

Sitting back, the Emperor looked him over again, assessing his next move. Xue Shu was capable, without tangled allegiances, and loyal to him alone. Though a little wild at times, he didn’t abuse his position.

More importantly, he was a man of clear principles, dependable and unafraid to put himself at risk when needed.

After a few moments of thought, the Emperor made up his mind. “You refuse rewards, but I’ve always been fair in matters of reward and punishment. Gao Yuan has fallen from favor, and the position of Chief Eunuch is vacant. You’ll take over that role. Also, the East Bureau Commissioner position has been empty for a while—take that as well.”

“Another dragon robe, and a hundred taels of gold,” the Emperor continued, seeing Xue Shu’s calm, approving of his temperament more and more. “From now on, serve well. Don’t disappoint me.”

This was exactly what Xue Shu had expected. When the Emperor had sent him to the Ciqing Palace, he had already paved the way back.

But now, standing at the cusp of it all, there was a bitter taste. The thought of no longer serving in the Ciqing Palace still made his chest tighten with frustration.

He hid the dissatisfaction well, masking it behind a respectful bow.

The Emperor, growing tired, waved him off. “Go on. Handle your duties, and return in three days to serve in the Chief Eunuch’s office.”

With that, Xue Shu was dismissed. He bowed and left, only to find Gao Xian waiting outside the palace gates. Their eyes met, and Gao Xian, unusually silent, looked like he had just swallowed a bitter pill.

He knew, of course.

Xue Shu shot him a glance, a sly smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He gave a polite nod, his tone dripping with irony: “Master Gao, I hope you’ll look out for me in the future.”

Gao Xian had been eyeing the position of the Eastern Bureau Commissioner for a long time. He'd already planned which of his adopted sons would take the role. But what he never saw coming was Xue Shu swooping in and snatching it away.

This wasn't just about the Eastern Bureau falling under Xue Shu’s control; it also meant that the Longfeng Emperor trusted Xue Shu far more than he did Gao Xian. The realization hit him like a punch, nearly making him grind his teeth to dust.

But with Xue Shu riding high, Gao Xian had no choice but to swallow his frustration. With a strained grin, he reluctantly clasped his hands and said, “Congratulations, Commissioner Xue.”

Xue Shu shot him a glance but said nothing, striding off into the snowstorm like he owned the place.

Before long, news spread that Xue Shu was reinstated. When he arrived at the Western Bureau, the Western Depot Supervisor, Zhao Youwei, was all smiles, his face wrinkled like a steamed bun, eager to greet him.

For years, the Western Bureau had been overshadowed by the Eastern Bureau, ignored and overlooked. Zhao Youwei, who had done nothing of significance in his role, had only managed to hold onto his small patch of turf. But when Xue Shu took over the Western Bureau, cleaned up a few messy cases, and brought in some of his own people, the place started looking like it actually mattered.

Zhao Youwei had always envied Xue Shu, but he also knew better than to openly challenge him. So, he kept his ambitions in check. But when Xue Shu fell from grace and was sent to do menial work at Ciqing Palace, Zhao saw his chance. He quickly moved to grab power, pulling in defectors from Xue Shu’s former team and flexing his newfound authority.

But just three months later, Xue Shu was back. And not only that, he’d been promoted to the Eastern Bureau Commissioner.

Zhao Youwei wasn’t the only one feeling the heat—others who had once served under Xue Shu and then defected to Zhao were sweating bullets.

As Xue Shu approached the study, Zhao Youwei slinked alongside him, testing the waters, “Are you here to pack your things, Commissioner Xue?”

Despite both being both Bureau Commissioners, the Eastern Bureau wielded far more power than the Western one. The situation had shifted, and Zhao Youwei had no choice but to play the part of the submissive subordinate.

Xue Shu turned to face him, his eyes narrowing coldly as he glanced at Zhao Youwei and the nervous officers around him. A small, cruel smile tugged at his lips. “The Emperor gave me the position at the Eastern Bureau, but make no mistake—the Western Bureau will fall under my control too. It doesn’t matter where I’m staying, so don’t bother packing anything.”

His gaze slid to Zhao Youwei, an icy gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, Supervisor Zhao?”

Zhao Youwei’s forced grin almost shattered under the weight of Xue Shu’s stare. He stammered, “You’re right, Commissioner Xue.”

Satisfied, Xue Shu nodded and walked into the room, tossing over his shoulder, “Tell Wei Xihe and Cui Ci to come.”

Zhao Youwei, still stunned, tried to follow but barely avoided the door slamming in his face. He stood there, frozen in place, his face shifting through a range of emotions before he reluctantly turned to carry out the order.

The officers who had been watching exchanged wary glances—some excited, others fearful. It was clear: the winds in the Western Bureau were about to change once again.

*

Xue Shu called for Wei Xihe and Cui Ci, and after hearing about everything that had been going on with the East and West Bureaus, as well as inside the palace, he ordered them to investigate the background of the head of punishment at the East Bureau, the officers under him, and the key players in charge of the cases.

Gao Xian had been running the East Bureau for years. Even though Gao Yuan was gone, the East Bureau was still packed with his loyalists, a force not to be underestimated. While Xue Shu had received Emperor Longfeng's orders to take control of the East Bureau, it would take some effort to fully bring it under his thumb.

In his previous life, he’d been stationed at the West Bureau. They handled a few cases so well that their power grew rapidly, eventually suppressing the East Bureau until it was absorbed under their control. Back then, Cui Ci was the one in charge of the East Bureau, and Xue Shu never got to hold the reins himself.

Now, it wasn’t that hard, but it was going to take some time. What really bothered Xue Shu wasn’t the takeover of the East Bureau—it was the fact that he’d no longer be able to move freely in and out of Ciqing Palace.

After arranging things and sending Wei Xihe and Cui Ci on their way, Xue Shu glanced at the sky before heading toward Ciqing Palace.

By the time he arrived, it was already past midnight. The world was bathed in ink-black darkness, with only the lantern in his hand casting a faint glow, swaying with the wind and snow.

As Xue Shu entered the Linzhi Gate, he bumped into Zheng Duobao, who was heading out. Zheng Duobao greeted him with a "Congratulations" and guessed he was likely here to report to the prince. He quickly reminded, "His Highness is still in Hongren Hall."

Xue Shu nodded his thanks and made his way toward Hongren Hall.

Yin Chengyu was reading a book under the dim light, his hair untied, dark and flowing over his shoulders. He had his foot on the belly of a baby tiger, which was growing rounder by the day. When he heard footsteps, he looked up at the door and simply said, "You’re here."

It was clear from his tone that he had been waiting.

Xue Shu walked over and noticed the baby tiger lying on its back, frowning as he casually tossed it aside. Then he kneeled and took Yin Chengyu's foot into his hands, cradling it warmly.

"You’ve been on the road for days, Your Highness. Why aren’t you resting?"

Yin Chengyu raised an eyebrow at his actions but didn't scold him. Instead, he pressed his foot closer to Xue Shu’s chest, seeking warmth.

"I heard my father has assigned you to the East Bureau?" he said, his tone playful as he smirked at him. "Congratulations to Xue Duzhu."

The title "Xue Duzhu" carried a lot of meaning, echoing their previous lives.

Xue Shu held his foot firmly, not letting him move it. He gazed at him intently. "I won’t be able to stay by Your Highness’s side every day anymore," he said, his brows furrowing as he spoke the truth, "If it weren’t for bigger matters, I’d rather stay by your side."

Yin Chengyu gave him a look, smiling faintly. "No ambition at all."

"The Eunuch in charge of the Court of Imperial Rites, just one step away from being the head eunuch," Yin Chengyu murmured as he traced the pattern of flying fish on Xue Shu’s robe. "That’s the one who controls the inner palace. Who wouldn’t want to be the 'Jiu Qiansui,' the one who’s above all others, second only to the emperor?"

His red lips curled into a sly grin, and though his face betrayed no emotion, his words carried a weight, questioning both the present and the past.

Xue Shu firmly gripped his finger, his voice unwavering. "I only want to be the one above all."

Yin Chengyu’s gaze softened as he looked into Xue Shu’s eyes and saw the reflection of himself. He pulled his hand away with a quick smile, then teased, "Xue Duzhu, your ambition’s a little too much."

Xue Shu didn’t respond. He was already used to it. In both lives, there had only ever been one thing he wanted: him.

Some might say he had no ambition, others might say it was limitless.

His whole life’s pursuit was simply to reach for the moon.

Seeing Xue Shu silent, Yin Chengyu picked up the baby tiger that had been rolling around his feet, then nudged Xue Shu with his foot. "Fine. You’re good for nothing. Help me put my shoes on. I’m going back to my chambers to rest."

———Author's Note: Big dog’s got no time for playing the old tired game of being a grand figurehead. Nah, all I want is to be your ruthless, relentless husband. That's it. No holding back.

———TN: Duzhu is a title name.