Time: Jinghe Year One (shortly after the coronation)
Gu Lian jolted awake—only to find himself standing at a familiar palace corridor corner. Cold rain poured down, instantly soaking through his thin robe. He looked down and saw slender wrists, a frame not yet fully grown— He was fifteen again.
His heart pounded wildly. An irresistible force pushed him forward. Through the curtain of rain, he saw a slim figure holding an umbrella, just about to step through the Chancellor's side gate.
"Ai Miao!"
His voice—youthful, cracking with desperation—rang out exactly as it had in memory. He dashed forward, just like he had back then, heedless of everything, and grabbed Ai Miao's cold wrist.
Rain blurred his vision, but he could still see clearly— Ai Miao turned. Those eyes, always calm like still water, now looked pale and frozen, as if soaked in ice. Gone was the flustered hesitation he remembered. Only unfamiliar, chilling composure remained.
"Your Highness." Ai Miao's voice was colder than the rain. He easily pulled free, even stepped back half a pace— Widening the distance between ruler and subject to something vast and hopeless.
"Please conduct yourself with propriety." Ai Miao lowered his gaze to the splashing puddles, his tone as flat as if reciting a lesson. "My loyalty to Your Highness is that of a subject to his crown prince. Nothing more. You are young. Perhaps you've mistaken dependence for… other feelings."
Each word was a needle dipped in ice, piercing the heart of a fifteen-year-old burning with unguarded emotion.
"No… that's not true!" Young Gu Lian reached out in vain, voice breaking with tears. "You clearly…" He wanted to say: We were close. You let me touch you. You stayed by my bedside when I was ill…
"Your Highness." Ai Miao cut him off, finally lifting his gaze. In his eyes was the calm scrutiny of a strategist— And perhaps, just barely, a trace of… pity?
"You will be Da Sheng's emperor. You will have consorts, a crown princess. Some thoughts are best severed early—for your sake, and mine."
He bowed slightly, then turned and walked through the Chancellor's gate. The door closed behind him with a heavy creak, sealing off two worlds.
"Ai Miao—!"
Gu Lian screamed, voice torn from his chest— And sat bolt upright in bed.
His ragged breathing echoed through the silent bedchamber. Cold sweat soaked his nightclothes, clinging to his skin. He reached out instinctively—his hand met warm skin, and steady breathing sounded beside him.
Gu Lian turned stiffly. Moonlight filtered through the canopy. Ai Miao lay beside him, brow faintly furrowed, as if even in sleep he was still thinking. One hand rested unconsciously on Gu Lian's waist.
A wave of overwhelming relief and aching sorrow seized Gu Lian's heart. He stared at Ai Miao's sleeping face—carefully, almost greedily. Then slowly, with utmost gentleness, he lowered his forehead to the warmth of Ai Miao's shoulder, breathing in that familiar, calming scent of ink and rain.
The subtle movement stirred Ai Miao from light sleep. He blinked groggily, sensing the tension and dependence in the man beside him. His arm tightened instinctively around Gu Lian's waist, voice thick with sleep:
"…Your Highness? A nightmare?"
That title—never spoken when awake—was a key. It unlocked the most fragile part of Gu Lian's heart.
He didn't answer. He buried his face deeper into Ai Miao's neck, arms tightening, as if to confirm this warmth was real.
Ai Miao woke fully. He felt Gu Lian's rare vulnerability and fear. Though he didn't yet understand, he relaxed, letting Gu Lian hold him. One hand gently patted his back, like soothing a frightened child.
In the shared warmth and steady heartbeat, Gu Lian's shattered heart slowly pieced itself back together. He clung tighter, silently screaming: Thank heaven… thank heaven you didn't push me away.
Ai Miao didn't ask. He let Gu Lian hold him like a drowning man clutching driftwood. In the dark, he could feel the emperor's racing heartbeat, the faint, almost imperceptible tremble.
This wasn't an ordinary nightmare. Ai Miao thought sharply. Was it the assassination in the north? Or the court's attacks on him?
He waited quietly, offering warmth and breath as silent comfort to the man who ruled the empire, yet now trembled in his arms.
Only after a long while did Gu Lian's body begin to relax. But he still didn't let go. Face buried in Ai Miao's neck, he spoke hoarsely:
"I dreamed… that rainy night… you didn't choose me."
Ai Miao's hand paused mid-pat.
So it was that dream.
He remembered that night five years ago— The crown prince, soaked and red-eyed, clutching his wrist like a desperate, caged animal, begging for a promise he didn't yet understand. Back then, Ai Miao had chosen warmth over logic.
But what if he hadn't?
A sharp, hypothetical ache bloomed in Ai Miao's chest. If he had chosen the "safer" path— What would Gu Lian have become? What would have become of them? Would they have become strangers, forever separated by rank?
He tightened his embrace. His voice was clear and firm, slicing through the lingering shadows:
"That was just a dream, Your Highness."
He leaned close, lips brushing Gu Lian's ear, whispering like a vow:
"I'm here. Whether in that rainy night, on this dragon bed, or in any moment to come… My choice has always been you."
Gu Lian's body softened further. His weight sank into Ai Miao's shoulder.
"Sleep, Your Majesty." Ai Miao's voice was calm, but carried undeniable comfort. "I'm here."
Gu Lian said nothing. He nestled deeper into the embrace. The cold of the dream faded, replaced by warmth. Ai Miao's heartbeat and breath became his lullaby.
Just before sleep claimed him again, Gu Lian thought:
Yes. Just a dream.Ai Miao chose me.And that truth… is more precious than any dream.
Gu Lian's breathing gradually steadied, long and even. But the arm wrapped around Ai Miao's waist showed no sign of loosening—clinging with a stubborn kind of dependence. Ai Miao remained in that tight embrace, eyes open in the dark, utterly awake.
Your Highness… haunted by a dream like this?
The realization stirred ripples across the lake in Ai Miao's heart—a lake named Gu Lian. He thought of how Gu Lian had changed over the past five years: From a crown prince who wore his emotions openly, full of youthful sincerity, To the emperor he was now—deep-thinking, composed, commanding.
Ai Miao had always believed it was his own "betrayal" that had catalyzed that transformation. But he had never imagined that buried beneath Gu Lian's calm exterior was a fear—so deep, so personal, and so tied to him.
Was it because of his own distance since returning to the capital? Because of that fabricated scandal? Or… had Gu Lian sensed something in the plans Ai Miao had never voiced—those deeper calculations and unspoken intentions?
Ai Miao's fingers curled slightly. He was used to controlling the board, reading hearts. But when it came to Gu Lian, the logic he prided himself on often faltered.
Suddenly, he realized: The loyalty and promises he had given Gu Lian—perhaps they weren't tangible enough. Not enough to soothe the scars left by five years of separation. He had more to do. Much more.
—
By the time Gu Lian woke, morning light was already filtering in. He stirred and found Ai Miao still beside him, quietly reading a thin booklet in the soft light spilling through the window lattice. He hadn't moved, hadn't pulled away—just let himself be held.
Sensing the shift, Ai Miao set the booklet aside and turned his head. His clear, sharp eyes glowed in the morning light. "Your Majesty is awake? Shall we rise?"
His tone was calm and natural, as if the vulnerable emperor who had clung to him last night had been nothing but a dream.
Gu Lian looked at him. The last remnants of the nightmare faded completely. He hummed in response, but didn't move to get up. Instead, he tightened his arm around Ai Miao and pressed a sleepy, tender kiss to his forehead.
It was not a kiss of desire, but one of possession and quiet affirmation.
Ai Miao paused, then relaxed. He even tilted his head slightly, accepting the morning's greeting.
"What are you reading?" Gu Lian's voice was still hoarse from sleep, his gaze falling on the booklet Ai Miao had set down.
"A new report from the northern frontier—mineral surveys and… a list of candidates." Ai Miao handed it to him, tone steady. "The deposits are rich. We'll need someone capable to oversee operations. I've drafted a shortlist for Your Majesty's review."
Gu Lian took it and flipped through. After the maps came a concise list of names, each annotated with background, skills, and political affiliations. His eyes scanned the page, finally resting on the last name—Ai Jue. Beside it: My younger brother. Age seventeen. Skilled in engineering. Steady temperament. Worth cultivating.
Gu Lian's fingertip paused.
He understood instantly.
Ai Miao was handing over his family's future—clearly, openly, without reservation. Sending his young brother to the harsh northern frontier to manage mining operations—an unglamorous post—was a declaration. A statement that the Ai family supported reform, sought no empty prestige, and was willing to place its most precious member within the emperor's reach.
It wasn't a request for favor. It was the offering of a vulnerability.
Gu Lian looked up, gaze deep. Ai Miao's expression was calm, as if he'd merely made a routine personnel suggestion.
"Approved." Gu Lian closed the booklet, voice low and resolute. "Let him go. Tell Ai Jue to do well. The empire… and his brother… are watching."
He didn't spell it out. But they both understood.
Ai Miao bowed slightly. "On behalf of my younger brother, I thank Your Majesty for your trust."
In that moment, the last trace of unease born from the dream vanished.
His strategist had used the language he knew best—action, precision, loyalty—to say: My family, my future, are bound to you.
You need not fear dreams.
Reality has already tied me to your side.
In the Morning Light: A Game of Strategy
Gu Lian didn't rise immediately. Still nestled in their embrace, he tapped the edge of the name list with his fingertip, eyes resting on Ai Miao's calm profile.
"The northern frontier is bitterly cold. Mining is arduous. Ai Jue is still young…" His tone was flat, unreadable. "You're willing to send him?"
Ai Miao tilted his head slightly, avoiding Gu Lian's overly focused gaze. His voice remained steady. "Uncut jade cannot be shaped. Your Majesty's flourishing reign needs capable men who can do real work—not idle sons wrapped in brocade. The Ai family has received the grace of the state. It is our duty to raise talent for it." He paused, then added, "Besides, A Lie is stationed in the north. He'll look after him."
He mentioned A Lie—casually, but deliberately. That single line laid out another layer of connection: The Ai family's ties to the rising military elite—another force the emperor could trust and wield.
Gu Lian's lips curved ever so slightly. His Ai Miao— Even declarations of loyalty were delivered with precision, seamlessly interwoven. He hadn't just offered a vulnerability—he'd shown strength. The Ai family's allegiance was not only sincere, but strategically valuable.
"Get up." Gu Lian finally released him and sat up. His golden robe slipped down, revealing a lean, muscular chest. He called toward the outer chamber, "Attend me."
The waiting attendants entered in orderly fashion, carrying washbasins and ceremonial robes for the day.
As they dressed him, Gu Lian extended his arms, but his gaze passed through the bustle— Landing on Ai Miao, who was quietly dressing himself. Morning light traced the lines of his slender back, his movements filled with quiet strength.
"After the Grand Court Assembly, come to the study." Gu Lian's voice was slightly muffled between rinses, but the meaning was clear. "Regarding the appointment for Canal Overseer—I want your thoughts."
This wasn't consultation. It was delegation. Another artery of the empire's lifeblood, placed squarely in Ai Miao's hands.
Ai Miao's fingers paused briefly as he fastened his belt, then resumed smoothly. He turned and bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."
Once both were fully dressed, ready to head to separate halls for their respective duties, Gu Lian paused at the doorway— As if remembering something— He turned back and said:
"By the way, Mother mentioned the plum blossoms in the Western Garden are in full bloom. She asked when we might be free to go admire them together."
This wasn't a casual remark. It was a signal— From the most revered woman in the empire, A subtle gesture of recognition and acceptance of their bond.
Ai Miao looked up, meeting Gu Lian's gaze, rich with meaning. He was silent for a moment, then lowered his eyes and replied gently, clearly:
"As Your Majesty and Her Grace see fit."
Gu Lian smiled. In the morning light, it was a bright, satisfied smile. He said no more, striding toward the waiting imperial carriage.
Ai Miao remained where he was, watching that golden figure disappear down the palace path. Only then did he straighten slowly. He raised a hand, fingers brushing the intricate embroidery on his sleeve. In his ink-dark eyes, emotion stirred—deep as the sea.
He knew— From this moment on, he and Gu Lian were no longer just lovers in the dragon bed, or sovereign and minister in the study. They were allies— Bound by fate and power, Interwoven in the blueprint of a flourishing empire.
What began as a desperate confession on a rainy night Had, at last, anchored itself in the quiet certainty of morning.
Outside, the sky had fully brightened. Sunlight surged across the palace, bathing it in gold.
A new day had begun.
The Study Room Game
By the time the imperial carriage arrived at Xuanzheng Hall for the Grand Court Assembly, it was already the third quarter of the morning hour. Inside, the assembly was as solemn and intricate as ever.
Gu Lian sat upright on the dragon throne, listening to the reports from various ministries. His decisions were swift, his rewards and punishments precise. From time to time, his gaze would sweep past the front row of civil officials and pause—ever so briefly—on that calm, composed figure. He would catch the faintest nod or shake of the head from Ai Miao. That was the silent understanding between them—no words needed.
After the court dispersed, Gu Lian returned to the imperial study but did not summon Ai Miao immediately. He first reviewed several urgent military dispatches alone, then met with two regional governors about to be posted. Only when the afternoon sun filtered through the lattice windows, casting dappled light across the polished golden tiles, did he finally instruct the attending eunuch:
"Summon Lord Wen'an."
When Ai Miao entered, he was already holding a more detailed dossier. After bowing, he didn't speak right away. Instead, he walked to the window and gently closed the pane Gu Lian had deliberately left ajar.
"Spring chill lingers. Your Majesty should take care not to catch cold." His tone was calm, as if stating a simple fact.
Gu Lian watched this small gesture, and a quiet warmth stirred in his chest. His strategist—always hiding his care in the most unobtrusive acts.
"Speak. Who do you recommend for Canal Overseer?" Gu Lian set down his vermilion brush and went straight to the point.
Ai Miao spread the dossier across the imperial desk, pointing to a name. "In my opinion, the former Deputy Commissioner of River Works, Zhao Huaiming, is suitable for the role."
Gu Lian's gaze sharpened. "Zhao Huaiming? I remember him—competent enough. But doesn't he have some indirect ties to the Su family?" His tone darkened slightly at the mention of "Su family."
"Precisely," Ai Miao replied evenly. "And that's why appointing him would demonstrate Your Majesty's magnanimity and help soothe the old clans. Zhao is diligent, skilled in hydraulic works, and not merely a schemer. Use him, and you gain his talents. Control him, and the Su family won't dare act rashly. This is what we call an 'open stratagem.'"
He paused, then shifted his finger to another name. "Of course, we must also appoint a Deputy Inspector for Canal Affairs—someone of humble origins, unentangled with the capital's noble houses. He should be granted the authority to submit sealed memorials directly to Your Majesty, to serve as a counterbalance."
One push, one pull. One in the light, one in the shadows. A capable Su-affiliated official to show goodwill, and a loyal imperial man to supervise. Potential risks, placed in plain sight—under control.
Gu Lian looked at Ai Miao's composed profile and felt a surge of admiration. This was his Ai Miao—always able to find the most stable, most efficient path through the most complex terrain.
"Approved." Gu Lian picked up his brush and marked the draft with a bold red character: Granted. He set the brush down, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his brow. His voice softened, tinged with a trace of reliance.
"One more thing… Mother has scheduled a plum blossom viewing in the Western Garden for the day after tomorrow. You… should prepare."
This wasn't about state affairs. It was something far more personal.
Ai Miao's hand paused briefly as he tidied the documents, then resumed as if nothing had happened. "I understand." After a moment's silence, he added, "I'll prepare the Yunzhou Cloud Mist tea Her Grace favors, and… the calming incense Your Majesty prefers."
He had thought of even these small details. Gu Lian looked at him, and the last trace of unease about facing his mother quietly melted away. With Ai Miao there, he always felt at ease.
"And," Gu Lian added suddenly, his tone casual but his gaze sharp, "Keep an eye on the Ministry of War. I want the new troop rotation plan for the northern frontier on my desk before the end of the month. Tell those old foxes not to stall."
"Yes." Ai Miao bowed. "I'll oversee it personally."
State affairs never seemed to end. But as Gu Lian watched Ai Miao's tall, steady figure retreat from the study, He felt that the weight of the empire was not so unbearable after all.
Because he knew— No matter what storms lay ahead, There would always be someone walking beside him, Standing at the pinnacle of power, Playing this game of empire—together.
Afternoon in the Western Garden
The plum blossoms in the Western Garden were in full bloom—sparse shadows cast across winding paths, their subtle fragrance drifting through the air. The Empress Dowager sat in a warm pavilion, watching two figures standing side by side not far away.
Gu Lian was pointing out a rare cluster of green calyx plum blossoms to Ai Miao, speaking softly. Ai Miao tilted his head slightly to listen, occasionally nodding. Sunlight filtered through the branches, casting a gentle glow on his refined profile, softening the usual chill in his features. The Empress Dowager noticed: her son's gaze never strayed from Ai Miao. That quiet focus, that warmth—she had rarely seen it, even as his mother.
"Ai Miao," she said, lifting the cup of freshly brewed Yunzhou Cloud Mist tea. The steam curled upward as her voice floated gently through it. "This tea is brewed just right. You brought it yourself, didn't you? That was thoughtful."
Ai Miao turned at her voice, walked back to the pavilion with composed grace, and bowed. "As long as Your Grace enjoys it. This tea is warm in nature—perfect for winter."
The Empress Dowager smiled, her gaze drifting to the plain white jade pendant at his waist. Her tone remained gentle, but carried subtle weight. "Ai Miao… that jade pendant. The emperor used to love giving you little trinkets like that when he was young. I didn't expect you'd still keep it."
Ai Miao's fingers tightened imperceptibly. His voice remained steady. "His Majesty gifted it. I would never discard it lightly."
She studied him for a moment, a flicker of complex emotion passing through her eyes—resignation, reflection—finally settling into a barely audible sigh.
"Enough… The emperor has been working hard lately. I've noticed he's looking a bit worn." Her tone was just right—concerned, but her gaze landed squarely on Ai Miao. "You're by his side. Remind him to rest. State affairs never truly end."
It sounded like care. But beneath it lay a quiet scrutiny— A test of whether Ai Miao truly placed Gu Lian's well-being above all else.
Ai Miao lowered his eyes, his tone respectful yet firm. "I will remember Your Grace's words. His Majesty's health is tied to the fate of the realm. I will see to it—always."
He didn't offer lofty phrases about "serving the nation." He spoke directly to Gu Lian's personal well-being. And that answer eased the last trace of doubt in the Empress Dowager's eyes.
Gu Lian walked over then, naturally taking the seat beside her. He smiled. "Don't worry, Mother. With Ai Miao watching me, I wouldn't dare stay up late."
He said it lightly, but the intimacy and reliance in his tone were unmistakable.
The Empress Dowager looked at her son's unclouded smile, Then at Ai Miao—calm as still water, yet meticulous in every detail. She sighed softly and said no more. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the attendants, leaving the garden's fragrance and rare tranquility to the three of them.
—
The carriage ride back to the palace was spacious and smooth. Curtains drawn, the outside world faded away.
Gu Lian reclined against the cushions, his face showing a rare mix of fatigue and contentment— The kind that comes only after shedding the mask of an emperor.
"Mother seemed pleased today." He spoke with his eyes closed, voice lazy.
Ai Miao, seated beside him, nodded slightly. "Her Grace's heart has eased. That is Your Majesty's blessing." He paused, as if remembering something, then reached into his sleeve and took out a small, delicately woven sachet made of plum twigs.
"I passed through the plum grove and saw some fallen blossoms. I gathered a few and mixed them with your usual calming incense. The scent may be a touch clearer."
Gu Lian opened his eyes and took the sachet—still cool from Ai Miao's fingers, carrying a faint plum fragrance. He held it to his nose and inhaled. A chill laced with warmth filled the enclosed space, as if the entire plum grove had followed them into the carriage.
A smile rose in his eyes. He clutched the sachet tightly.
"Smells better than anything the Inner Bureau prepares." His tone was openly fond. He closed his eyes again, head tilting slightly toward Ai Miao. "Wake me when we arrive."
Ai Miao looked at the faint shadows under his eyes and softly replied, "Mm."
Only the rhythmic sound of wheels remained, And the quiet harmony of their breathing.
In this private world, Even the air felt gentler.
Gu Lian's thoughts blurred in the comfort of silence. Just before sleep claimed him, he thought:
That rainy night, I grabbed a cold hand and pressed it to my burning heart.And for the rest of my life, I held onto warmth.Thank heaven.This is real.