Desire breaks through restraint. In the quiet steam of the Western Hills, Gu Lian claims what he believes is his—and Ai Miao begins to yield. But beyond the intimacy, the palace watches, weighs, and prepares.
Late autumn, Yongxi Year Seventeen. The imperial hunting party set out in grand procession toward the Western Hills. It was the moment Gu Lian had long awaited—he had personally arranged for Ai Miao's tent to be pitched right beside his own.
The air was crisp, the red leaves blazing across the hills like fire. Clad in military regalia, brimming with youthful pride, Gu Lian led the opening ceremony, striking down a stag with his first arrow to thunderous applause.
"Your Highness's archery has improved," Ai Miao remarked from the sidelines, his gaze carrying a rare flicker of approval.
Gu Lian seized the moment, leaning in with a smile. "Tonight's venison roast—join me in my tent?"
Ai Miao inclined his head. "As Your Highness commands."
Not far away, Murong Che watched the exchange. Since his confession had been rejected, he had grown increasingly withdrawn. Now, seeing the closeness between the two, a shadow passed through his eyes.
The hunt proceeded with unusual ease. Gu Lian seemed determined to release all the emotions he had bottled up—his arrows never missed, and his haul was impressive. Ai Miao rode quietly at his side, never seeking attention, never straying far.
As night fell, bonfires lit the hunting grounds. Under the pretense of discussing Beijing's affairs, Gu Lian kept Ai Miao in his tent.
"I've heard the hot springs here have healing properties," Gu Lian said casually. "Your old arm injury might benefit."
Ai Miao looked up. "Your Highness is thoughtful."
"I've had the eastern spring cleared," Gu Lian added, his voice laced with suggestion. "Shall we go?"
It was a carefully laid move. He remembered the quiet progress made on Ai Miao's birthday—the fleeting closeness brought by a purple bamboo brush. Tonight, he intended to take one step further.
Steam rose from the spring, moonlight filtering through the bamboo groves in dappled patterns. Gu Lian shed his outer robe and stepped into the pool, turning back to find Ai Miao still hesitating at the edge.
"What's wrong? Afraid I'll devour you?"
Ai Miao was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he removed his robe and stepped into the water. Through the mist, his slender figure flickered in and out of view, making Gu Lian's heart race.
"Do you remember what you promised me on your birthday?" Gu Lian asked, drawing closer. Ripples danced between them.
"I remember."
"Then tonight…" Gu Lian's voice was steady, resolute. "I want more."
The hot spring's heat blurred boundaries. Gu Lian, guided by memories of erotic illustrated manuals, awkwardly and urgently attempted intimate contact. His movements carried the reckless boldness and possessiveness unique to youth, yet his inexperience rendered them clumsy and inept.
Several attempts missed the mark entirely, even causing them both pain. Gu Lian lay atop Ai Miao, breathless, sweat mingling with the hot spring water. Frustration threatened to overwhelm him. The ecstasy he'd anticipated never came; instead, only awkwardness and embarrassment remained.
"I..." Gu Lian's voice carried disappointment and a barely perceptible hint of hurt, "I thought... I could bring you pleasure."
All his pride, in this moment, before the one he longed to possess completely, felt utterly fragile.
Ai Miao watched his frustrated, stubborn expression, clearly sensing the young crown prince's possessive desire that brooked no failure and his deeply hidden anxiety. He sighed silently within.
With a deft flip, water splashed lightly as their positions instantly reversed. As the world spun, Gu Lian found himself firmly pinned against the poolside by Ai Miao, unable to move.
"Let me handle it," Ai Miao's voice was unusually deep in the night, carrying an unquestionable command. "Is this what Your Highness desires?"
Gu Lian wanted to protest, to reclaim the initiative, yet found himself utterly submerged in the unprecedented dominance Ai Miao now displayed. Every movement was no longer indulgent, but precise guidance and unyielding control.
Ai Miao's hand dipped into the water, warm ripples spreading with his movement. His fingertips traced Gu Lian's taut spine with cautious exploration—not the caress of a lover, but the scrutiny of a strategist examining a vital map, calmly seeking every critical junction and breakthrough point.
Gu Lian shuddered involuntarily. An unfamiliar pleasure, like a faint electric current, shot out from the touched spot, clashing fiercely with the pride he struggled to maintain. He bit his lower lip, refusing to let any more sounds of weakness escape.
"Your Highness," Ai Miao's voice murmured against his ear, low and steady, carrying a near-cruel patience, "Relax."
His fingers, slippery with the hot spring water, slid silently downward, probing into that secret realm untouched by outsiders.
Gu Lian's body instantly stiffened like iron, his breath catching. The warm water eased some of the discomfort, but the sensation of intrusion remained palpably heart-stopping.
"Ugh..." A short, muffled groan, laced with pain and an unbelievable shame, finally escaped from between Gu Lian's tightly clenched teeth.
Ai Miao's movements halted immediately, though he did not withdraw. The hand that had been caressing his spine slid downward, settling reassuringly against Gu Lian's taut abdomen, while the other remained suspended in place, maintaining a dangerous stillness.
"There will be some discomfort," he stated, his tone as calm as if explaining a chess move, "but if you remain this tense, it will only hurt more." His fingertips shifted ever so slightly, carrying an unquestionable sense of guidance. "I am here, Your Highness. Trust me."
Those words, "Trust me," struck Gu Lian more powerfully than any command. He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and forced himself to release the tension of resistance, surrendering control of his body—along with his unease and anticipation—entirely.
With tacit permission granted, Ai Miao moved with extraordinary patience. His fingertips, moistened with hot spring water for lubrication, explored slowly and firmly. Each subtle twist and press from those lightly calloused fingertips sent a shiver through Gu Lian.
"Does it hurt?" Ai Miao murmured in his ear, his tone still calm. Yet his actions contradicted it, driven by a near-cruel patience that forced Gu Lian to adapt and feel.
Gu Lian shook his head, his fingers unconsciously digging deep into the muscles of Ai Miao's arm. He could distinctly feel that overwhelming, disorienting fullness being opened up—accompanied by a faint sting, yet strangely intertwined with an indescribable, palpable thrill of being utterly controlled. Ai Miao's palm pressed gently against his lower abdomen, carrying both soothing intent and an undeniable authority.
When Ai Miao withdrew his fingers, replaced by a more threatening, searing touch, both men held their breath involuntarily.
Too tight—
That was their shared sensation.
Ai Miao's entry was slow and laborious. He had to pause, fine beads of sweat forming on his temples. His usually serene, ink-black eyes churned with hidden currents under the moonlight as he waited for Gu Lian to adjust.
"Continue..." Gu Lian's voice trembled, yet it was unyieldingly firm.
With permission granted, Ai Miao lowered his hips, finally entering completely. Both paused, drawing deep breaths in unison.
Too deep... deeper than Gu Lian could ever have imagined. The sensation of being utterly filled, penetrated, even touched to his very soul sent shivers down his spine. All pretense of strength crumbled in that instant. He tilted his head back, his vulnerable Adam's apple rolling in the moonlight as he exhaled a silent gasp.
Ai Miao began moving slowly. The hot spring water rippled with their rhythm, slapping against the pool walls with suggestive sounds. The pain gradually receded, replaced by unfamiliar pleasure that spread like a fine tide up his spine. Gu Lian wanted to escape this overwhelming sensation, yet his body betrayed him, honestly responding to Ai Miao's rhythm.
When Ai Miao deliberately or inadvertently brushed against a certain spot, a wave of intense pleasure shot through his body, causing him to arch involuntarily.
"There..." Gu Lian's voice was broken, tinged with a plea he hadn't even recognized himself.
Ai Miao's gaze darkened. He adjusted his angle, beginning to strike that spot with precision.
Waves of pleasure crashed over him like a tidal surge, completely drowning Gu Lian's rationality. He clutched Ai Miao's arm tightly, his nails digging into the skin, unable to suppress the whimpers escaping his throat.
In the whirlpool of passion, he thought hazily: He had meticulously planned all this, so why was he the one now utterly exposed and powerless to resist?
As the final wave crashed over him, Gu Lian left a deep bite mark on Ai Miao's shoulder amidst the overwhelming sensory assault.
"You're mine now," he gasped between breaths, mustering his last ounce of strength to assert ownership, attempting to reclaim psychological dominance.
Ai Miao offered no reply, merely brushing away the physiological tears from the corner of his eye with a fingertip. This tender yet dominant gesture spoke louder than any words—who truly possessed whom this night remained uncertain.
The morning after, Gu Lian awoke to birdsong. Beside him, Ai Miao had already risen and was quietly dressing.
"So early?" Gu Lian asked lazily, his voice still hoarse from the night before.
"It's time to prepare for today's hunt," Ai Miao replied, tone as calm as ever—as if nothing had happened.
But Gu Lian noticed the slight tremor in Ai Miao's fingers as he tied his sash, and the faint flush at the tips of his ears.
"Are you alright?" Gu Lian sat up, the brocade quilt slipping down to reveal faint red marks on his shoulder and neck.
Ai Miao's gaze lingered on them for a moment before turning away. "I'm fine."
Gu Lian smiled, satisfied. He knew—something had changed, irreversibly.
When the two stepped out of the tent together, the waiting attendants lowered their heads. Any discerning eye could see that the Crown Prince was unusually radiant today, and the ever-cool Ai Miao carried a subtle shift in his expression.
That day's hunt, Gu Lian was distracted. His gaze kept drifting toward Ai Miao, replaying fragments of the previous night.
Murong Che sensed the change. During a break, he couldn't help but ask, "Did you sleep well last night, sir?"
Ai Miao was inspecting his bowstring. At the question, his hands paused. "Well enough."
"You seem in good spirits today," Murong Che said, voice probing.
Ai Miao looked up. "Focus on the hunt."
Gu Lian listened nearby, and for the first time, he understood clearly: a wall had risen between Ai Miao and Murong Che. Last night had not only been physical—it had been a declaration of belonging. Watching Murong Che's forced composure, the faint guilt in Gu Lian's heart was replaced by something stronger: the quiet satisfaction of a victor.
Three days later, the hunt ended. On the return journey, Gu Lian insisted on sharing a carriage with Ai Miao.
"Still sore?" he asked softly, fingers absently tracing Ai Miao's wrist.
Ai Miao shook his head. "Your Highness worries too much."
"Then tonight…" Gu Lian leaned in, whispering, "again?"
Ai Miao was silent for a moment. "Your Highness, moderation is wise."
The words made Gu Lian's heart tighten. "You regret it?"
"No." Ai Miao looked out at the passing scenery. "Only that indulgence is dangerous."
Gu Lian clasped his hand. "I want to indulge."
The carriage jolted along the road. Each man lost in his own thoughts—Gu Lian basking in the sweetness of first intimacy, Ai Miao's gaze growing darker.
Soon after returning to the palace, the Empress "happened" to encounter Ai Miao in the imperial study.
Her gaze was gentle but sharp, settling on a faint mark at Ai Miao's neck, half-concealed by his collar. Her tone remained mild. "Ai Miao, you've grown up in this palace, and your bond with Lian'er is like that of brothers. He's young and impulsive. If he ever shows… excessive dependence, you, as both elder and minister, must know your place—and guide him wisely."
Her words were soft, but the warning was clear. Ai Miao bowed immediately. "This servant will remember Her Majesty's teachings."
The Emperor was more direct. He pushed a confidential report on Beijing across the desk, his tone flat but firm. "Your strategy is sound. The Beijing front must remain under our control. Talent belongs on the battlefield and in court—not confined to a bedchamber. You may go."
Leaving the study, Ai Miao found Gu Lian waiting on the palace path.
"What did Father and Mother say? Did they suspect anything?" Gu Lian asked eagerly, his face still glowing with post-intimacy ease.
Ai Miao looked at his carefree expression. The Emperor and Empress's scrutiny still echoed in his mind. He couldn't say, They're already watching me. Instead, he brushed an imaginary leaf from Gu Lian's shoulder, shielding him from all storms as always, and said softly:
"Nothing. They asked about Beijing. Your Highness needn't worry. I'm here."
Gu Lian smiled, reassured, and took Ai Miao's hand, leading him toward the Eastern Palace.
He didn't know that, at that very moment, a quiet reckoning had begun in the imperial study.
Incense curled in the air.
The Empress looked at the Emperor, troubled. "Your Majesty, that mark on Ai Miao's neck… We both know what it means. Lian'er's feelings for him go beyond dependence. We cannot let this continue."
"I know," the Emperor said, standing at the window, gaze deep. "Which is why we must not act rashly."
"Are we to just let them…" the Empress began.
"We cannot allow it," the Emperor interrupted, voice cold. "But Ai Miao is a peerless sword. The Beijing campaign is the key to our expansion. Only he can see it through. To move against him now would be to sever our own arm—and provoke Lian'er's fury. It's not worth it."
He turned, eyes sharp with imperial calculation. "We wait. First, we see if Lian'er is lost in passion—or if Ai Miao's guidance strengthens his resolve and ability. Second, we watch Ai Miao—whether he's content to be a prince's bedmate, clouding his judgment, or whether he truly has the ambition to govern and understands a minister's duty."
His gaze returned to the report. "When he returns victorious—if he still refuses restraint, still seeks to enchant the Crown Prince… then the sword has served its purpose."
These words set the tone for the storm to come.
Outside, the autumn sun stretched the shadows of two figures along the palace path. Gu Lian held Ai Miao's hand, believing this moment would last forever.
He didn't know that the happiness he clung to had already been placed on the scales of power. And on the other side, his own parents were calmly adding weight.