From snow-covered steps to starlit towers, they walk side by side—not as ruler and subject, but as soulmates. In the heart of empire, love is no longer hidden. It is written into history.
In the winter of Yongxi Year 23, the year-end wind carried fine snow, but it could not dispel the solemn majesty within the Forbidden City. Before the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the imperial path paved with white jade stretched to the horizon, flanked by fluttering banners and an imposing ceremonial guard.
At the hour of Chen, drums and bells rang in unison, echoing through the heavens.
Gu Lian, clad in black robes with crimson trim, ascended the steps. The twelve imperial emblems shimmered with quiet authority beneath the pale winter sun. The twelve jade beads of his crown veiled his youthful face, but could not hide the depth and calm power in his eyes.
Each step he took was steady, his boots striking the cold stone with a clear, solitary echo. Civil and military officials stood in strict formation. Ai Miao, dressed in deep purple court robes, stood at the head of the civil ranks, eyes lowered, posture like a pine in snow.
When Gu Lian finally turned and seated himself upon the dragon throne—the symbol of supreme power—the court erupted in thunderous acclaim: "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"
The roar shook the beams of the palace. Gu Lian's gaze swept calmly across the kneeling officials, then passed beyond them—meeting a pair of eyes raised in silent communion. No words were needed. In that glance, they saw the same resolve: this path, they would walk together.
—
A new emperor, a new era. The lights in the imperial study often burned deep into the night.
"Your Majesty, this is the Ministry of Personnel's draft for reforming the Evaluation Bureau." Ai Miao placed a thick memorial on the desk, his voice slightly hoarse from days of work. Though now one of the highest-ranking officials, his private interactions with Gu Lian retained their unique ease and intimacy.
Gu Lian set down his vermilion brush, rubbed his brow, and instead of reading, reached out to touch Ai Miao's cool fingertips. "Your hands are cold. Is the brazier too weak?" He moved to pass him his hand warmer.
Ai Miao gently avoided it, sighing. "Your Majesty, I'm fine. Let's focus on state affairs. Reforming the Evaluation Bureau is key to clean governance—it must be handled carefully."
Gu Lian saw the determination in his eyes and relented, picking up the memorial again. "Have the Imperial Physician check your pulse later."
He pointed to a line. "Cutting redundant posts—this will face resistance."
Ai Miao leaned in, pointing under the candlelight. The faint scent of ink lingered between them. "Precisely because it will, Your Majesty must act decisively. I've had the Shadow Bureau investigate who's loyal and who's obstructing. The records are ready. When the time comes, we strike swiftly."
The candlelight flickered, illuminating their focused profiles. Sometimes they spoke in low tones, sometimes in silence. The blueprint of an empire was being drawn in these quiet nights.
—
That winter brought heavy snow. Another storm blanketed the glazed tiles in white.
After finalizing relief plans for the northern provinces, it was already midnight. Outside, the wind howled against the windows.
Gu Lian pushed aside his cold tea and walked to the window. "The snow's too heavy. Stay in the palace tonight," he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing.
Ai Miao's hand paused mid-document. Though not the first time, each invitation stirred something in him. He looked up and met Gu Lian's gentle gaze—warm and impossible to refuse.
"…Alright," he replied softly, ears tinged red in the candlelight.
—
In the eastern warm chamber of Qianqing Palace, the floor heating glowed. Attendants had prepared hot water and clean night robes before quietly withdrawing.
Gu Lian personally removed Ai Miao's snow-damp outer robe, his fingers brushing the chilled nape of his neck.
"In weather like this, don't come in person. Send word instead," Gu Lian said, voice low and tender.
Ai Miao let him fuss, replying quietly, "Some matters are best reported face-to-face. Besides… I wanted to see for myself that Your Majesty is well."
Gu Lian paused, then smiled, draping a warm robe over his shoulders. "With you here, I'm always well."
Ai Miao pulled the robe tighter, warmed by Gu Lian's scent. The wind outside faded, leaving only the crackle of fire and their mingled breaths.
"Lian," he whispered. The private name softened the emperor's expression instantly.
Gu Lian tied his robe, fingers brushing the collar and lingering on faint marks. "Still sore?"
Ai Miao caught his wandering hand, cheeks flushing. "Not anymore. But you…" His gaze fell on Gu Lian's shoulder. "Still aching from last night's work?"
"You can rub it for me." Gu Lian leaned in, surrendering his weight.
Ai Miao chuckled and began massaging his shoulder. Under the candlelight, the emperor closed his eyes, murmuring: "Remember when I injured my shoulder practicing archery? You rubbed it like this. I thought then—I want you by my side forever."
Ai Miao paused. Back then, he'd thought the boy was just clingy. Who knew…
"Aren't I here now?" he said softly.
Gu Lian opened his eyes and pulled him close. "Not enough." He nuzzled his temple. "I want you always—with the title of consort."
Ai Miao looked into his eyes. After a long silence, he caressed Gu Lian's cheek and answered with a gentle kiss.
—
Not all reforms went smoothly. One morning, several young scholars from the Hanlin Academy fiercely opposed Ai Miao's proposal to add a "Natural Inquiry" section to the imperial exams. One scholar, surnamed Lin, was especially sharp, quoting classics at length.
Ai Miao stood calmly, waiting. Then he responded—clear, logical, and precise. His rebuttal was so thorough that even the most skeptical officials were quietly impressed. Scholar Lin, initially flushed, was left speechless—his gaze toward Ai Miao betraying awe.
From the dragon throne, Gu Lian watched silently, fingers tightening on the armrest.
—
That evening, Ai Miao entered the palace as usual, but found Gu Lian not in the study, but in the warm chamber, quietly drinking.
"Your Majesty?" Ai Miao asked.
Gu Lian looked up, eyes unreadable. "Come. Sit." He poured a cup for Ai Miao. "You were brilliant today. Impressive."
Ai Miao sensed something off. He accepted the cup cautiously. "It was my duty."
"Was it?" Gu Lian leaned forward, fingers brushing Ai Miao's hand. "Scholar Lin looked at you with admiration. My Marquis Wen'an—brilliant, elegant… admired by many."
Ai Miao blinked, then understood. The emperor was jealous.
He set down the cup, took Gu Lian's hand, and said with quiet indulgence: "Your Majesty," his voice low and clear, "My mind serves only you. My grace…" He leaned in, breath brushing Gu Lian's ear, "…is for you alone."
Gu Lian's jealousy melted into laughter. He pulled Ai Miao close, forehead to forehead. "Remember what you said. You're mine—entirely."
—
The borders calmed. A Lie returned to the capital, granted the title Marquis of the North. The once-youthful general now carried the weight of experience.
His residence bloomed with late plum blossoms. Qing Ying still wore her practical garb, but her rounded belly added a gentle glow.
"Careful on the steps," A Lie said, supporting her like fragile treasure.
Qing Ying laughed softly. "I'm fine. The physician said walking is good." She still called him "General."
A Lie stopped, gazing at her sunlit profile. "After my report, I'll request a marriage decree. I want you and our child to have a rightful name."
She touched her belly, cheeks flushed with joy. She nodded and leaned against his shoulder.
They had missed the moon—but found the warmth of a steadfast star. Perhaps that was fate's best gift.
—
Jinghe Year 3, Lantern Festival.
Three years into Gu Lian's reign, the nation flourished. This year's celebration was grand—thousands of lanterns lit the capital, painting a portrait of peace.
Gu Lian dismissed his guards and took only Ai Miao to the palace's highest tower. The wind was sharp, but the city glowed with warmth.
"Remember when we snuck up here as boys and made wishes?" Gu Lian asked.
Ai Miao adjusted his cloak, smiling. "Peace for the realm. Safety for the people." He turned to Gu Lian, eyes reflecting the lanterns—and him. "And… to stay by your side."
"The first two, we're achieving." Gu Lian turned, took his hand, gaze deep and vulnerable. "And the last one, Ai Miao—I want to inscribe it in history."
He slowly unfurled the scroll. It was not a standard imperial edict, but a piece of silk embroidered with gold thread—crafted with care, not cold formality.
Ai Miao paused, sensing what was coming.
The scroll contained no bureaucratic commands, but a declaration written in bold, heartfelt strokes. It proclaimed that Marquis Wen'an, Ai Miao, would be named "Imperial Consort"—not to oversee the harem, but to stand beside the emperor as his equal, sharing the empire and its burdens, forever his companion. It was not a title of concubinage, but a sovereign's vow to his soulmate.
"I know you've never cared for titles," Gu Lian said, voice low and unwavering, "but I do. I want the historians to record it in fine ink—that every inch of my empire bears your mark. You are my only consort, the other half of my soul, the warmth and anchor of my solitary throne."
Ai Miao stared at the scroll, at the familiar, resolute handwriting, at the man before him whose eyes burned with sincerity and devotion. He had spent his life calculating, strategizing, mastering the court—but never had he foreseen being cherished like this.
A rush of heat surged to his eyes. He fought it back, refusing to let tears fall. Slowly, he bent his knees to offer a formal bow—but Gu Lian caught his arm.
"No need to kneel," Gu Lian said, voice trembling slightly.
Ai Miao looked up into his eyes. Then, with solemn grace, he offered a deep bow—not of submission, but of reverence and promise. "Your servant… accepts the decree."
Gu Lian finally smiled, a smile of relief and fulfillment. He pulled Ai Miao into a fierce embrace, as if to fuse him into bone and blood. On the wind-swept tower, they held each other tightly. Below them, the city blazed with lanterns like a river of stars—illuminating the future they had built together.