ITIEQ C89

Chapter 89 – Xiao Yuanzheng, Do You Want to Be With Me?

It had to be spoken—this matter. The battle had settled for now, and indeed, it was time to lay things bare.

Xiao Yuanzheng led him along. Shen Qinghe held his tongue, intending to wait until they reached some quiet place before speaking. Yet the “quiet place” turned out to be the main command tent at the military center.

The curtain lifted. Several deputy generals were already assembled. As soon as they saw the sovereign, they rose and saluted in unison: “Your Majesty.”

…So, no privacy after all.

“I was told you went to the Watchtower Pavilion. Since you were absent, I came to find you myself,” the Emperor explained before returning to the table, where the map lay spread. Red markers now engulfed the territory of “Yunzhong Commandery.”

Councils followed—arrangements of troops and logistics. Shen Qinghe, disinterested in strategy, found a seat behind the Emperor’s main chair, yawned, and eventually dozed off.

The Dragon‑Cavalry Army had its own routines. This meeting existed mostly for the Emperor to test the mettle of newly‑promoted young captains. But when Xiao Yuanzheng glanced aside, what met his eyes was the youth half‑collapsed on his arm, already asleep.

“This will do.” The Emperor lowered his hand, voice gentler than usual. “Tomorrow, we depart for the capital.”

The deputies filed out. Very quickly, only the two remained.

He stood a while at the table. The tent was sparse: twin banners with coiling dragons, the sovereign’s armor standing ready beneath them, gleaming coldly.

He ran a hand over the crimson tassel crowning the helmet, then walked to the only other chair. Towering shadow fell across the sleeper.

Shen Qinghe’s long hair slipped loose, his robe plain; his pallor made the jut of his neck bones sharper, yet his slender frame still struck the eye like the poised sweep of a bird’s wing, like the arc of a bow fully drawn.

Such gazes in silence were hardly noble. But after a moment, the Emperor turned away.

Shen stirred, blearily opening his eyes to see the ferocious dragon of the banner above. Startled, he realized it was only the army standard.

Had he actually slept through it all? Meetings were truly made to hypnotize men.

Gradually awake, he thought of affairs already handled: Academy reopenings delegated, refugees in Huizhou resettled via Lady Pingyun’s new shipping, Qingbei doctors enrolled into the backup corps. Finally the strain eased, exhaustion crashed in. No wonder he had slept so soundly, even in a hard chair.

He gathered his limbs, cloak slipping down. Quick hands caught it. The faint scent of agarwood rose. Looking around—it seemed he was alone.

Left behind.

Turning the robe in his hands, Shen Qinghe muttered to the garment itself, “You’ve been hung on my shoulders so many times already—why not stay?”

He bunched it and shook it open. The incense surged into the air, sharper than ever, as though the wearer stood before him.

All of it pricked at his heart.

Love—he had never thought much of it. Two lives’ worth of scrambling from the bottom upward left him room for nothing except the dream of a better life. Men, women—he had loved neither.

Now, much of that dream was realized. Perhaps it was time to consider something else. But on a blank page, the first stroke is always the hardest.

He sat silent awhile. Then snapped his fingers.

“To be together with the Emperor—now that would be… exhilarating.”

He had his own rhythm, never following others. Rather than wait on fate, he strode into it.

So he stood and walked straight out to look for Xiao Yuanzheng—without asking for help, without a guide, simply searching.

The camp was vast, sprawling over half a day’s march. But Shen was unhurried, even exchanging nods with familiar soldiers.

Fate, he decided—if before sunset he should stumble on the man he sought—

“Qinghe.”

The footsteps pounded behind him. His pulse skipped, quickened.

Turning, he found not the Emperor but Yaoguang, breathless with sweat.

“You—why are you here? Did not His Majesty put you on Mid‑Ridge Mountain to guard the central camp?”

“I couldn’t sit idle!” Yaoguang grinned shamelessly. “So I took thirty rod‑strokes at punishment, ran here anyway.”

“You’re mad! Punished, then marched all this way only to collapse at our feet? I’m fetching you a physician this instant.”

True to Shen’s suspicion, when examined, the bruises on his back were deep purple. The West‑North Army had cracked down without gentleness. Yaoguang’s claim of “mere soft taps” was nonsense.

Leaning at a post, Shen alternated between scolding and laughing. “Come here injured just to cling like baggage? If you can’t walk, no one will care for you.”

“Then I’ll cling to you!” Yaoguang beamed, teeth flashing. “Our bond’s so close—even if you must carry me piggy‑back to the capital!”

Shen answered only with a lazy, “We’ll see if I bother.”

Talking with Yaoguang delayed him. By then the sun had fallen, the sky smeared crimson. Once, he had avoided Xiao Yuanzheng. Now he sought him—yet obstacles came at every turn.

He thought it ironic. The wheel of fortune turned indeed.

As a yellowed leaf fluttered down, he caught it. Its twin curves formed a heart. He tucked it into his robe, choosing to view it as omen.

Deep into the night, at the Emperor’s own pavilion, Shen waited long enough to doze again before the flap lifted.

When one was Emperor, one was always busy. Moonlight curtained in, then fell away.

“Tomorrow we march,” the sovereign spoke evenly. “What brings you here at midnight, Shen Qinghe?” His eyes drifted to the folded cloak waiting, then returned.

“It is important.” In two steps Shen stood before him, meeting him eye to eye, appraising openly as if judging a man fit for choosing.

With such a gaze, bold as it was, Xiao Yuanzheng did not flinch. He bore it calmly.

“I—”

“You—”

Both began, both paused.

The Emperor saved him: “You slept this noon. Now you cannot?” Quiet, he shed his outer coat, candlelight tracing his unfathomable features, soft smile bidding Shen speak further.

Shen steadied himself, but instead of his own confession he spoke: “Today Lady Pingyun came to you. Her words—do not dwell on them.”

The Emperor only asked calmly of “Gongyang Ci”—whether Shen disliked him. Shen answered evasively.

Then he pressed further: “And what of my affairs? What of our affairs?”

Then, straight and simple:

“Xiao Yuanzheng—do you want to be with me?”

The Emperor froze, still at the soft screen. The look he cast was sharp, like a spearpoint.

Shen met him with a playful smile, eyes gleaming in the wavering firelight.

“Do you even know what you ask?” The Emperor’s voice sunk low, testing whether this was sincerity or reckless youth.

“Of course. I only wonder if Your Majesty’s meaning matches mine.” Shen was shorter, yet carried the blaze of steel none could ignore.

Silence ruled the tent. For the first time, Shen mastered the Emperor by demanding answer.

Male companionship was not unheard of in noble circles. Shen knew he was worthy. The real question was—what would the sovereign admit?

At length, Xiao Yuanzheng gave a quiet “Mn.”

“I had not thought—it would be you who said it first.” A sigh, then a softened laugh. He had meant to tend this seed long and patiently. He had not expected bloom so soon.

“It is surprise. A glad one.”

Shen grinned, wicked now. “I meant to speak at sunset—yet His Majesty was too busy. Made me wait until the second watch. For that—compensate me with a confession of your own.”

A teasing tug on the Emperor’s sleeve, pulling him close, nearly breath to breath.

“I admire you. But if you want to talk romance—then—”

The sandalwood fragrance swelled as Shen was suddenly turned, pressed back against the screen. Not harsh, but firm. His chin tilted upward, gently held.

A predator seizing prey—yet the touch was tender.

Shen’s pupils widened. And then—

A kiss. Light, fleeting—at the corner of his lips.

Footnotes

1. Hu chair (胡椅): folding or reclining chair often found in military or nomad contexts, used in tents/camps. 
2. Thirty rod‑strokes: In the West‑North Army, military discipline meant rod punishment, literally strokes of the heavy staff, endured to prove obedience or pay for infractions. 
3. “Second watch” (二更): traditional Chinese timekeeping, indicating roughly 9–11 p.m.