Time: A late night during a rest day, shortly after the Longevity Festival in Jinghe Year Three
Place: Wen'an Residence, Ai Miao's private study
Candlelight flickered gently. Ai Miao had shed the solemn court robes of the day, now dressed in plain white sleepwear. Spread before him were not memorials, but several gaudily bound folk storybooks. Yet the titles of these books carried a rather… peculiar air.
The first volume:The Dancer's Downfall The page he had open described how Flowing Cloud, after casting a flirtatious glance at the emperor during a court performance, was promptly exiled to a border garrison to feed horses—by none other than the cold-blooded Grand Councilor.
Ai Miao tapped the passage with his finger and nodded slightly. "The sequence is a bit off, but the outcome is acceptable." He picked up a brush and scribbled a note in the margin: "Flowing Cloud is currently teaching dance in Jiangnan, not feeding horses. Recommend fact-checking."
The second volume:The General's Regret This one told of General A Lie, who, after glancing at the emperor one too many times, was sent to the northwestern deserts by a jealous Grand Councilor. There, he repented and eventually reunited with his true love, Qing Ying.
Ai Miao frowned at a particular line. "Military affairs in the northwest are no joke. A Lie was promoted, not punished." He annotated: "Military transfers are matters of state. Not to be treated as romantic plot devices. Author lacks basic understanding."
The third volume:Iron Rule of the Forbidden Palace: The Grand Councilor's Purge This one was bolder still. It depicted Ai Miao ruthlessly eliminating anyone who dared harbor improper thoughts about the emperor—from palace maids to high-ranking ministers.
When he reached the part where a maid was reassigned to the laundry bureau simply because her hand trembled while pouring tea for the emperor, Ai Miao finally pressed a hand to his forehead. "…Excessive."
He wrote: "Said maid was punished for theft. Recommend consulting the Internal Affairs Bureau archives."
Just as he was absorbed in reading, a soft sound came from outside the window. Ai Miao's expression sharpened. With a flick of his sleeve, the books vanished into a hidden compartment. He swiftly picked up a border report, brow furrowed, as if he'd been studying military affairs all along.
Gu Lian pushed open the door, bringing with him a breath of night air. "Still working this late?"
Ai Miao rose to greet him, expression calm as ever. "What brings Your Majesty here?"
Gu Lian's gaze flicked to the faint flush on Ai Miao's ears, then to the upside-down military report in his hand. A smile tugged at his lips. "Came to check on my Grand Councilor… see what fine literature he's reading."
He strolled casually to the desk, fingers gliding across its polished surface, finally pausing at the edge of the not-quite-closed compartment. He leaned in suddenly, breath brushing Ai Miao's ear.
"I hear there are some new storybooks circulating lately… ones that paint you as a jealous tyrant?"
"Baseless rumors." Ai Miao's tone didn't waver. "I act according to law. Never out of personal bias."
Gu Lian pulled out one of the books and read aloud in a low voice: "'The Grand Councilor swept the hall with a single cold glance: those who covet His Majesty—death without pardon.'"
Ai Miao snatched the book back, the flush behind his ears creeping down his neck. Still, he forced his voice to remain steady. "…Fiction. Not to be trusted."
"But I must say," Gu Lian chuckled softly beside his ear, "That line… rather pleases me."
With a flick of his palm, the candle was extinguished. In the darkness, only the rustle of scattered pages remained— And a quiet sigh of resignation.
Inwardly, Ai Miao muttered: "I should have the Shadow Guard pay these authors a visit tomorrow." A pause. "Except for that Purge one. The ending… was acceptable."
The darkness didn't last long. Gu Lian, clearly practiced, found the fire striker by the desk and relit the candle. Warm golden light once again filled the study, illuminating Ai Miao's slightly flushed profile— And the now-creased copy of Iron Rule of the Forbidden Palace in his hand.
"Oh? 'Pleases me,' does it?" Ai Miao looked up, his usually calm black eyes now glinting with a rare mix of embarrassment and danger. "Is Your Majesty suggesting… I haven't been thorough enough in my purges?"
Gu Lian blinked, caught off guard for a moment— Then laughed low in his throat. Instead of retreating, he stepped closer, nearly pinning Ai Miao between himself and the desk. His finger tapped the word "Purge" on the book's cover.
"Not at all." His voice dropped, magnetic and coaxing. "I simply think… this reputation of yours is a bit unfair."
Ai Miao raised a brow, waiting.
Gu Lian's finger slid down the spine of the book, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. "Look at this—these stories only mention minor palace staff and ministers. But the one who's truly kept my side 'clean' for five years, The one who's made it so no one else can catch my eye— Is standing right here, hiding a whole box of 'evidence.'"
His gaze burned. "Tell me, Ai Qing—if there's to be a purge, shouldn't you be the first to go?"
Ai Miao's breath caught. He hadn't expected Gu Lian to bring up the past now— Let alone twist his old "crime" of leaving without a word into this absurd narrative.
He tried to stay composed, But the heat rising to his ears betrayed him.
"I… had my reasons." His voice was quieter than usual.
"I know," Gu Lian said, closing in. "But the punishment has yet to be carried out."
He reached up, fingers brushing Ai Miao's flushed ear, gently kneading. His voice turned low and dangerous.
"Tell me, Ai Qing—by the rules of these books, For leaving me five years in solitude, heart restless and bed cold… What punishment do you deserve? And how… should I carry out this 'purge'?"
Ai Miao instinctively stepped back, Only to find the cold edge of the desk at his waist. No escape.
He met Gu Lian's gaze— Saw the unhidden possessiveness, the amusement— And knew he had lost this round.
"If Your Majesty has already passed judgment," He turned his face slightly, avoiding that searing gaze, His voice barely above a whisper, "Then kill me or flay me… as you see fit."
It sounded like surrender. But the trembling lashes and the renewed flush at his ears Spoke of something else entirely.
Gu Lian's eyes darkened. This perfect blend of submission and veiled provocation Delighted him.
He chuckled— But instead of kissing him again, He reached up and slowly pulled the jade hairpin from Ai Miao's hair.
Ink-black strands spilled down, Brushing against Gu Lian's fingers.
"Execution is far too dull," he murmured, Twining a lock of hair around his finger. "For a crime this grave… I sentence you to life imprisonment."
His gaze locked onto Ai Miao's widened eyes, Staring into those once-calm ink-dark depths, Now rippling with emotion— And his voice dropped to a verdict:
"From this moment on, You are to be imprisoned at my side. For life. No release."
Before the words had fully faded, He used that coiled strand of hair to pull Ai Miao into another kiss— Deeper, more possessive than the last, Sealing away all unspoken words.
On the floor, Iron Rule of the Forbidden Palace lay kicked beneath the desk. On its final blank page, a new line of red ink had been hastily scrawled:
"Though the process defies reason… the outcome is acceptable."
Next to it—
A faint, smudged mark of lip rouge.
Outside, tree shadows swayed gently. When moonlight filtered back through the lattice window, Ai Miao leaned against the desk, breath slightly uneven. The collar of his white sleepwear had loosened, revealing a sliver of collarbone.
He raised a hand, fingertips brushing his tingling lower lip. In his ink-dark eyes flickered a trace of vexation— Laced with a quiet, helpless indulgence.
Gu Lian, meanwhile, sat leisurely in the very spot Ai Miao had occupied moments before, Turning the pages of Iron Rule of the Forbidden Palace with amused interest. His gaze skimmed the exaggerated passages, and he chuckled from time to time.
"'The Grand Councilor's eyes turned cold—he had three musicians flogged on the spot for daring to gaze upon the emperor's face'?" Gu Lian read aloud, then looked up with playful mischief. "Ai Qing, I don't recall that incident. Weren't those three punished for composing lewd lyrics? And wasn't it you, the Grand Councilor in charge of court etiquette, who had them exiled by law?"
Ai Miao's hand paused mid-motion as he adjusted his collar. Expression blank, he replied, "Your Majesty is wise. Folk stories tend to exaggerate and distort the truth."
"Oh?" Gu Lian flipped another page. "'That night, Lord Ai personally wielded the red brush, striking seventeen noblewomen from the registry. By morning, their families were all impeached…'" He drew out the words, then glanced at Ai Miao. "Weren't those seventeen families investigated for corruption and factionalism?"
"Indeed." Ai Miao's tone was cool. "Everything I do is by the book, with impartial judgment. Never have I sacrificed public duty for private gain."
"Ah, but was it public duty suppressing private gain… Or private feeling masquerading as public duty?" Gu Lian set the book aside and stepped close again, Lifting Ai Miao's chin with a finger, forcing him to meet his gaze.
His voice dropped, "…Using official business to carry out a personal purge. Hmm?"
His eyes were too penetrating— As if they could see into the deepest corners of Ai Miao's soul.
Ai Miao tried to look away, But that gaze held him fast.
"I did not," he denied. But his trembling lashes betrayed a flicker of guilt.
Gu Lian didn't let up. His thumb brushed Ai Miao's jawline, Voice teasing, knowing:
"Then tell me—why did your ears turn red reading those storybooks? And why, of all the volumes, Did you annotate Iron Rule with 'the ending is acceptable'?"
He leaned in, breath warm against Ai Miao's sensitive ear.
"Ai Qing… Could it be you actually enjoy being portrayed as the ruthless official, Clearing out every threat around me? Enjoy being the one who monopolizes me— And is monopolized by me?"
Ai Miao stiffened. It was as if the most secret, unexamined corner of his heart Had been dragged into the light.
He wanted to refute it— But found no words that could hold.
Gu Lian watched his rare flustered expression, Smiling with satisfaction. He didn't press further, Only pulled Ai Miao gently into his arms.
"Fool," he murmured by his ear, Voice full of indulgent affection. "Why read those books? If you want to purge someone, If you want to claim someone— You don't need borrowed words or noble excuses."
He tightened his embrace, Voice low and solemn, like a vow:
"My entire being, my entire heart, Has long been yours alone. If you wish to purge, If you wish to possess— All it takes is a word."
Ai Miao rested against him, Listening to the steady heartbeat, Feeling the unreserved love and indulgence in every breath.
The last trace of shame from being seen through Melted into quiet warmth.
After a pause, He finally spoke— Softly, with a hint of possessiveness barely audible:
"…Then Your Majesty should keep those dancers and musicians at a distance."
Another pause. He added, even quieter: "Minister Su… submitted a request two days ago, Asking for his niece to be appointed a palace official. I rejected it."
A beat. "Also… The son of Vice Minister Li from the Ministry of War Stared at Your Majesty three times yesterday in the palace corridor."
Gu Lian blinked— Then his chest shook with a low, delighted laugh. He pulled Ai Miao closer.
"Very well. All as you wish."
He kissed the top of Ai Miao's head, Voice full of indulgence:
"Tomorrow I'll issue a decree— Flowing Cloud shall remain in Jiangnan for extended 'cultural exchange.' Minister Su's niece can stay home and practice embroidery. As for Li's son… I'll send him to the northern frontier. Let him train—and cleanse his gaze."
In Gu Lian's arms, Ai Miao's lips curved—just barely.
The next day, the Shadow Guard did not trouble the authors of those storybooks. On the contrary, several of the most "colorful" writers mysteriously received generous rewards from an anonymous patron. Only the author of Iron Rule of the Forbidden Palace received, along with the payment, a full annotated copy of Commentaries on Da Sheng Law and Statutes. On the title page, a line of red ink read: "Study the law—it improves your craft."
—
Three days later, in the Grand Councilor's office.
By candlelight, Ai Miao reviewed the intelligence report submitted by the Shadow Guard. His ink-dark eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of sharpness flickering beneath their calm surface. His fingertip traced the origin records of the storybooks— Every trail pointed to the same source: The Royal Publishing House.
He was silent for a moment. Then closed the report, lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile— Gone in an instant, replaced by his usual cool composure.
"His Majesty… seems to have a lot of free time lately," he murmured, voice unreadable.
—
That night, Ai Miao carried a stack of books straight to the Qianqing Palace.
Gu Lian was reviewing memorials under lamplight. When he saw Ai Miao arrive unannounced, a flicker of surprise lit his eyes— Only to freeze when he recognized the familiar covers in Ai Miao's arms.
"Ai Qing, this is…?" Gu Lian set down his brush, trying to remain composed, Though his gaze had begun to shift uneasily.
Ai Miao said nothing. He walked forward, placed the stack of books beside the towering pile of memorials, Then picked up the top volume—Iron Rule of the Forbidden Palace.
He opened the cover, revealing the unmistakable seal of the Royal Publishing House. Then looked up, voice calm and even:
"I was unaware that, amidst Your Majesty's many affairs of state, You also manage such… refined and vulgar side ventures."
Gu Lian felt his ears grow warm under Ai Miao's gaze. He coughed lightly, circled the desk, and reached for Ai Miao's hand— Only to have it subtly avoided.
"I merely…" Gu Lian rubbed his nose, then gave up and admitted, "Was testing the waters."
Ai Miao raised a brow. He picked up the most scandalously titled volume—Forbidden Palace Secrets— And waved it in front of Gu Lian.
"With this kind of 'stone'? Is Your Majesty testing my reaction— Or testing the limits of the capital's paper supply?"
Gu Lian was momentarily speechless. He looked at Ai Miao—whose ears were clearly flushed— Yet who insisted on maintaining a businesslike, aloof demeanor.
His heart softened. He reached out again, this time pulling Ai Miao into his arms without asking.
"That day, when I heard you praise Flowing Cloud…" Gu Lian lowered his head, chin brushing the ink-scented crown of Ai Miao's hair. His voice dropped, tinged with a subtle vulnerability.
"I thought… If every storybook in the capital, in the empire, Sang only of how deeply I love you, how unwavering I am— Then maybe… You wouldn't find another excuse to push me away."
Ai Miao, who had been about to pull back, stilled.
He thought of those absurd storybooks— No matter how exaggerated the plots, Every ending was the same:
Gu Lian, portrayed as a sovereign whose eyes and heart held only one person— A love so deep it bordered on obsession.
He fell silent, resting against Gu Lian's chest, Listening to that steady, slightly quickened heartbeat. The impulse to interrogate faded, Replaced by something softer, more tangled— A quiet ache, tinged with vulnerability.
"Why go to such lengths, Your Majesty?" His voice was muffled, low.
"Because some people," Gu Lian tightened his embrace, His tone laced with indulgent exasperation and a hint of lingering fear, "Would rather sulk over ten absurd storybooks, Annotate 'purge' with murderous intent, Than ask me directly— Or admit, plainly… that they care."
Ai Miao's body stiffened slightly. After a long pause, he sighed.
He stepped back just enough to reach into his sleeve, And produced a new book—elegantly bound, refined in design. The flush at his ears deepened.
"In that case," he said, voice still calm, Though his gaze flickered, "I… commissioned a few copies myself. May Your Majesty review it."
Gu Lian took the book, puzzled. Its indigo cover was embossed with silver powder, The title crisp and dignified:
A Chronicle for the Ages: On the Governance of Emperor Jinghe and Lord Wen'an
His heart skipped. He opened the pages quickly— The scent of fresh ink rising.
The preface was written in Ai Miao's familiar, lean and austere hand:
"Between Your Majesty and this minister:Begun in duty, forged in strategy, loyal to the realm, and true to the heart.These years together are not of romance,Yet history bears witness to this bond.Let the mountains and rivers testify,Let time name it.With this volume, I record our shared path."
Not a single line of overt affection— Yet every word was a solemn definition of their bond, A record of years walked side by side, A confession that wove personal feeling into the fabric of empire.
Gu Lian felt his eyes sting. His fingers brushed the warm paper, As if he could feel the weight of Ai Miao's heart in every stroke.
He looked up, voice hoarse:
"Tomorrow—no, tonight—I'll issue a decree. This book shall be sent to every provincial academy. Let all scholars of the realm bear witness."
Ai Miao watched his moved expression, And finally, a quiet, genuine smile surfaced in his eyes. He gave a soft "Mm."
His gaze swept over the pile of garishly bound storybooks on the desk. "And these…?"
"Burn them. Immediately." Gu Lian's tone was firm, absolute.
Ai Miao shook his head. From the pile, he precisely extracted one volume, And calmly tucked it back into his sleeve.
"No need. This one—The Grand Councilor's Midnight Trial of Desire—was… acceptable."
Gu Lian leaned in curiously. The story featured Ai Miao uncovering a plot where someone impersonated Flowing Cloud to seduce the emperor— A tale that highlighted the Grand Councilor's sharp insight, flawless strategy, And the emperor's unwavering trust and reliance.
Gu Lian blinked, then burst into quiet laughter.
"So… this is your taste?"
Ai Miao's expression didn't change. He tucked the book away with his usual composure.
"At the very least, It's more accurate than Nightly Pleasures."
—
The next day, a subtle shift swept through the capital's literary circles. Political intrigue and strategic drama outsold romantic tales for the first time, Becoming the new favorites of the bookshops.
The Royal Publishing House quietly released a limited edition of A Chronicle for the Ages, Only one hundred copies. They were instantly sought after by noble families and academies alike— A single copy became nearly impossible to obtain.
Its preface spread quickly, Becoming the defining testament to the harmonious governance of Emperor Jinghe and Lord Wen'an.
As for the mysterious author of The Grand Councilor's Midnight Trial of Desire, They received a reward far exceeding their peers— A generous "editor's fee" from the palace, With a note attached bearing only two words:
"Well written."
[Postscript]
Three days later, Ai Miao found a new book on the desk in his study.
Indigo cover. Silver-powdered title. Identical in style to his A Chronicle for the Ages— But this one bore a different name:
Moon and Empire Alike: On Gu Lian and Ai Miao
He opened the title page. There, in Gu Lian's bold, unrestrained handwriting:
The chronicles are too heavy—recording only rivers and mountains.The moonlight too shallow—unable to hold the depth of feeling.Thus I carve out this volume,To record the private words, the vows, the mornings and nights of me and my beloved.—Gu Lian, Jinghe Year Three, in the world where Ai Miao exists
Ai Miao stared at the line for a long time. Then finally picked up his brush, And between "private words" and "vows," He added two upright, resolute characters:
All Under Heaven.