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Xiao Chen glances down at the cuffs not wound tight enough to chafe his wrists, and frowns. His captivity under the Sunshades is not as he expected.
He had been preparing himself for more flagellation than this. Starvation, at the very least. Whippings, perhaps, some light maiming. He had not expected simply to be thrown inside a cell, with nothing more than a handful of dirty looks.
He's even allowed food and water despite his significant role against the Revolution.
Granted, food does come by way of bland, barely recognisable porridge, but still. There should be more hate for him than this. More punishment.
He was the First Army General. He led the defense charge against the Sunshades when they struck Tian at its Palace. He orchestrated the deaths of at least half their comrades, their families, all to preserve the late Emperor of Tian, Hao Jue Yi’s all too self-serving interests.
It has been three full suns, and still, no word yet of his future. The Emperor and his high-ranking men have all been executed, one by one, yet still, here Xiao Chen is.
It’s unnerving. He stares blankly at the innocuous bowl of porridge. He does not quite know what to do, other than wait – but perhaps that is half the torture. Let him stew in his own thoughts and fears. Let him imagine what they could do to him in his mind's eye.
Xiao Chen sighs. He does not eat. If he is lucky enough, he might be able to starve himself to death before his execution date.
The person who comes to Xiao Chen's cell is, without surprise, he who mobilised the revolution.
He who was brave enough to look their late Emperor in the eye and say no. He who sliced their late Emperor's head clean-off in the throne room. The former Second Army General, current Sunshade Commander and next in line for Emperor of Tian – Zhang Zhe Sheng.
He stands triumphant as ever, with his broad chest and stout shoulders. The vicious pride in his gaze settles something in Xiao Chen's stomach. Judgement. Familiarity.
No longer tied in its battle-ready top knot, Xiao Chen's alabaster hair cascades all the way down to prison grounds. His lips slip up, theatrical in its confidence. “My, my, Second General.” His voice is pitched smooth as silk, sweet as saccharine – just the way Zhang hates it. “Look how far you've come.”
The smirk on Zhang's face tightens. “How far indeed.” He circles Xiao Chen like a predator would its prey. “Soon, you would even have to address me as Emperor. Imagine that.”
“Hmm.” Xiao Chen's hum trails off in a sing-song lilt. “How proud your parents must be.”
In a blink of an eye, Zhang zips to Xiao Chen's side of the cell, towering over him, fierce snarl ripping across his face.
Zhang's parents are dead. Everyone and their mother knows this. His orphan-filled past is the fuel for his famous unrelenting fire, the source of all his undying determination in life and in battle.
Personally, Xiao Chen finds it all a little dramatic. Xiao Chen himself has lost parents too. No one sees him staging a two-year long coup to overthrow an entire empire.
His head tilts up with innocent eyes, as he settles comfortably back against his cold cell walls. In his prisoner's smock, he is entirely at Zhang's mercy. The opening of his legs will not be difficult with his bound wrists and slender form.
Unflinchingly, Xiao Chen meets Zhang's heated glare. In doing so, he bares his throat, welcoming Zhang’s blade. “What will you do with me now, Second General?”
From the corner of his eyes, Xiao Chen sees Zhang’s fingers flex. Will he draw his sword from its sheath and slit Xiao Chen's neck, watching the light leave his eyes with unfiltered satisfaction? Or will he encase Xiao Chen's throat with his strong grip, choking him to death for daring to speak of his late parents?
So many things Zhang could do to him, so many ways Xiao Chen could be killed – yet none particularly that fazes Xiao Chen.
They've had their duels in the past. Xiao Chen knows Zhang’s strength, what he is capable of. He knows how those fists feel against his body, how that blade cuts against his skin. He is familiar with all the ways Zhang can inflict pain on him.
Zhang leans forward, bending down so his body engulfs Xiao Chen’s wiry frame fully in his shadow. “I don't know, pretty soldier. What do you think I should do?” The rage in his gaze is unmistakable, even as he speaks with his tone so light. “What punishment do you think is appropriate for you? For supporting an Emperor who has starved, abused and mistreated so many of his own people?”
Xiao Chen clicks his tongue, just because he knows that it irks Zhang when he does so. “Barely a day into rulerhood and already asking the enemy for advice? Come now, little tiger, you must know better than that.”
Zhang's palm slams against the space beside Xiao Chen’s head. Xiao Chen refuses to flinch. Holds the gaze of the man who had once stood by him in battle. His eyes are ice against Zhang’s muted fire.
“I suppose I can't fault you all that much for that, can I? You’ve always needed my advice.” Xiao Chen pushes. “Great Second Army General, fights like steelfire on the field, but needs a delicate First Army noble's help to arrange his tactics.” His lips twist into a dark leer. “How that must grate on you.”
An indignant growl. “The only reason you were first and I am second is due to the circumstance of our births, nothing more.”
An argument made countless times before, in countless different variations – yet this time, it cuts deeper than Xiao Chen is prepared for it to. He forces himself to look unaffected. “Whatever you say, General.”
“I won an entire empire without your aid.”
“Oh, but how would you rule it, dear General?” Xiao Chen chuckles at the thought. “How will you know which countries to make nice with, and which to raze to the ground? How will you know which of the old nobles to keep sated, and which to take out from your new rule?”
“All nobles remaining are to be for the axe.” Zhang speaks with no inflection, the resolution in his words borne only from years as a seasoned warrior. “They have had time to flee, chances to defect – yet they have chosen their own noble interests over that of equality and justice. Their servants and children will be spared, of course, but those with power who have remained loyal to the Emperor’s tyranny and negligence of his people – they must all perish.”
Pragmatic choice. Eliminate all First Army fighters, secure the rule for the Second Army, keep the people's interests protected from lingering loyalties to the late Emperor Hao. Perhaps Xiao Chen didn't have to worry about the Tian Empire being run by fools following his life's end after all.
“Then it seems you have found your answer.” Xiao Chen drops his eyes to Zhang’s blade. He always knew this day would come, ever since Zhang started the revolution. It has been a long two summers. “I wish you well on your new reign, General Zhang.”
Zhang steps back, releasing Xiao Chen from his shadow, as he folds his arms. His gaze is unreadable. “You would be so cowardly?”
“Is it cowardly to bend one’s neck for one’s crimes?” Xiao Chen lifts a shoulder, indifferent. “If it is, then so I am one. What does it matter to you anyway?” He fixes his gaze on the healing scar along the general’s chiselled jaw. “I should be gone by the end of this week. Your most honourable sensibilities will never have to be vexed by my shameless tendencies again.”
“You are so sure?” Zhang prods, though Xiao Chen isn’t quite sure what he’s prodding for, what he wishes to find further in conversation with a lowly prisoner. “Not going to beg for your life? Not going to prostrate yourself at my feet just like you did with Hao Jue Yi to curry his favour? Not going to give me any one of your clever reasons as to why you should be let to live?”
Ah. Xiao Chen sees what this is. Sentiment has always been Zhang's downfall. Too often, he allows it to cloud his judgment at the last critical second; now, he's allowing it to hesitate him from his most practical convictions.
“I have no reason to give to you, General. Whatever I say or don’t, it will make no difference. You will decide what you want to do with me all on your own. Unless,” Xiao Chen lets his eyes dance in taunting amusement. “– you require my advice on how to deal with my own life?”
The angry cloak drapes itself back over Zhang’s shoulders. His face darkens as he storms out of Xiao Chen’s cell, slamming the gate on his way out.
Xiao Chen releases the breath he’d been holding since Zhang entered. If he is smart about this, if he plays his cards right, if he vexes Zhang just the right amount, he will be for the axe. All the horrors he has been made to suffer – all of it, all of it would be over soon.
Xiao Chen will do his best to absolutely infuriate Zhang, in the meantime. That cannot be too hard.
If Xiao Chen had to describe his previous relationship with the former Second General Zhang, he'd probably liken it to a pair of mirrors throwing constant stones at each other, but always narrowly missing. They infuriate each other like no one else can, but they also know that without the other, their battles against the West would not be nearly as effective.
The parts that vex Zhang about Xiao Chen are also the parts that allow them to thrive together – and vice versa. Zhang's strong notions of justice and fairness, his need to proclaim goodwill wherever he went – it sickens Xiao Chen to the point of retching, but he also knows that Zhang’s honour is what foundates the essence of his strength.
He is not afraid to fight for his ideals. Xiao Chen, staring at his sorry bowl of porridge with his knees huddled to his chest, certainly cannot say the same.
Xiao Chen is spending the better part of his seventh moon in captivity pondering this, when he hears the jingling of keys. Unsteady footsteps that can only belong to a drunk man, walking into the dungeons.
He looks up. It is Qi Da, one of the younger soldiers from the previous Second Army. He had been one of the first to join Zhang’s banner.
Xiao Chen doesn't remember much about him, other than the fact that he was never particularly polite to members of the First Army. He hadn't been anything to worry about, then – just a boy with too much hate, that's all.
Now, as Qi Da hazily stabs his key into the lock of Xiao Chen's cell, with slurred mutterings, like disgusting Hao-loyalist dog and First General who can’t fight for shit and I'll make you pay for all those deaths , Xiao Chen can't help but feel that he should be more than a little worried.
He's not. Even when the young Qi Da hauls him up from the ground, rains his fists, his boots down upon Xiao Chen's curled up frame. Even being the recipient of rage no doubt pent-up from years of discontent – Xiao Chen doesn't feel fear. He feels relief. The axe hasn't yet fallen, but at least this pain is predictable. At least now Xiao Chen doesn't have to keep holding his breath for what is to come.
The humiliation of being beaten by someone who he once held rank over chips away at the last bits of his pride. Good. What use has he for that here anyway?
He could fight back, if he wanted to, even in this emaciated form. But what's the point? If this is the punishment the new Emperor Zhang has arranged for him, what can he do except accept it in silence? If he's lucky, the kid might even get a really good kick on his head and leave him bleeding to death out of his skull.
Xiao Chen doesn't so much as move to dodge Qi Da's violent hits. He curls into a ball on the ground, arms protecting his abdomen and clenches his teeth as furious hellfire rains upon his body. He closes his eyes, and prays for respite.
When Xiao Chen next wakes, it is with a rapidly sinking pit in his stomach. Not because of the jagged ache in his limbs, or the piercing strain in his neck – but because his body has once again betrayed him by failing to cease function despite his very own wishes.
The cot he's been moved to is warm, the pillows his head rests upon plush and soft – which sets all sorts of alarm bells ringing in Xiao Chen's head as he forces his eyes open. He finds himself facing up at the sight of Zhang scowling down at his face. What Xiao Chen could have done to aggravate the new Emperor while unconscious, is anyone's guess.
A distinctive crown rests upon Zhang Zhe Sheng's head, immaculate in its black and gold beauty. The huang guan looks much better on him than it did Hao Jue Yi.
It fits him well. Xiao Chen decorates his face with a polite, wan smile. “Congratulations on your ascendance, Emperor Zhang.”
“Cut the horseshit.” Emperor Zhang snarls, and Xiao Chen raises his eyebrows at the impulsive vulgarity. “You know how to fight back. You should have fought back. Why didn't you?”
Xiao Chen cocks his head against the pillow, bemused. “Why should I have?” Why should you care?
“Why should–” Emperor Zhang looks close to bursting a vein, but collects himself just before he does. It's fascinating to watch. “You were left with a dislocated shoulder and more bruises than fingers on the Thousand-Armed Deity. Qi Da never stopped his drunken assault on you until early this morning.”
“I am your prisoner.” Xiao Chen reminds the emperor calmly.
“We don't torture our prisoners without probable cause. That is not the way of the Sunshades.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is dishonourable – we either kill our enemies or we imprison them according to the Code. No one is allowed to prey on the defenceless without reason. We do not torture our captives, not unless there is something crucial that we need from them. Even then, we have strict limits.” Emperor Zhang crosses his arms with no small amount of ire. “Qi Da crossed those limits considerably – he has been sentenced to fifty lashes for his actions.”
Xiao Chen's eyebrows shoot up. That's an absurdly high number for the alleged crime committed. He forces himself half-up, not having the arm strength to sit up fully just yet, but not wanting to have this conversation lying down either.
He eyes the huang guan on Zhang’s head, but barrels through his prickling anxieties anyway. “You would punish your man over transgressions on a known enemy?”
“Anyone who disobeys the Code will face punishment,” Zhang declares, ridiculously resolute. “Otherwise, how different are we from the noble scum we ousted from this nation?”
There he goes again, with his shiny ideals and impenetrable resolve.
Xiao Chen sneers. “And you are sure all the soldiers in your precious Sunshade Army feel this way? The families who lost their children in the war?” A burst of innate irritation that only Zhang could ever have the ability to incite bubbles at the bottom of Xiao Chen's unfed stomach. “All the constituents of your land that admire you for the liberation they think you will bestow upon them – what do you think they will say when they realise their Emperor has punished their own just for landing a few good hits on the man who has served directly under the late Emperor Hao to terrorise their families, their homes?”
“I am Emperor. My rules are meant to be law,” Zhang says, but even he must admit he sounds less sure of himself than those words belie. All his furious gusto, dissolved in the face of a single monologue.
Xiao Chen regards him with an exceedingly dry look.
Zhang turns his head to the side, eyes shaded by his brand new huang guan. “If you really cared so much about the people of Tian, you should have joined our cause long before.”
Xiao Chen tries not to let the echoes of melancholy in Zhang's voice affect him. He combs his fingers, idly, through his long white hair – it is clean and smooth. Someone must have washed it while he was unconscious. His clothes have been changed too, no longer the grime-filled prison smock. It had probably been too bloody to justify tainting the bed on which Xiao Chen now laid upon.
“I couldn't have, could I?” He smiles wryly at the grey sleeves of his commoner's robe. He wonders who handled his unconscious body bare. “I was but a dirty, useless noble with no heart to speak of. How could one like me possibly fight on behalf of peasants and common folk?” He wonders how they touched him.
“Then what are you now, Xue Xiao Chen?”
“You tell me, Emperor Zhang.” Xiao Chen raises his head to stare up into Zhang’s fiery golden gaze. Like the sun itself, blazing everything in its trail. “What am I now?”
“My soon-to-be private advisor.”
The answer, dropped so caustically, is shocking as it is petrifying. Xiao Chen's head rears back. “Pardon?”
“There will be limits placed upon you.” Zhang's mien is a stern cloud of controlled calm, emotions from his earlier outburst now eradicated. “You will stay in this room. You are not allowed to leave these chambers without at least two supervising guards. The windows must be shut at night.”
Of course. The windows must be shut at night. Of course. He's on a bed. You will stay in this room. Someone changed his clothes while he was unconscious. Of course.
Xiao Chen hands wring tight against his sheets, shaking. “What happened to being for the axe?”
“You don't deserve that honour. You don't deserve to run away from your sins.” Emperor Zhang sneers, leaning against the frame of Xiao Chen's bed as his voice dips a dangerous notch lower. “You don't deserve to be free of this, Xue Xiao Chen. It would be too much of a waste to let you die.”
The last of Xiao Chen's anger fizzles into despair. Too much of a waste. He turns his head down so his white hair can shield himself from the Emperor's eyes. He can't believe he's found himself back in this position again. Helpless. On a bed. Trapped in an over-glorified cell.
He should’ve taken his own life when he had the chance.
“My Council decided this unanimously.” Emperor Zhang declares.
Of course they did, Xiao Chen thinks bitterly. Everyone knows I spread my legs for Emperor Hao. Why should I not do the same for this one as well?
“No one can deny the merits of your mind. Tian only really started to prosper once that greedy hog appointed you as his official advisor.” Emperor Zhang continues, completely inert to Xiao Chen's splintering mind. He directs another pointed glance at Xiao Chen. “If only you could have gotten him to share at least half that prosperity to his subjects.”
Xiao Chen had tried, before. Positing rational thought to persuade Emperor Hao into maximising public satisfaction – but the late Emperor never cared to listen to Xiao Chen when it came to the welfare of his people.
“They'll live,” was what he always said, even though most of them didn't. The only way Xiao Chen could get more money to the people of Tian was if he made Emperor Hao richer. The percentage referred to Tian's subjects was stagnant at a measly two-tenths – but Xiao Chen had at least tried to make it two-tenths out of a bigger portion than less. He had tried.
He feels the sting of guilt from the emperor's reprimand anyway. Clearly, he hadn't tried hard enough. His shoulders hike up to his ears.
“Advise me on matters of the state.” Emperor Zhang repeats, tone losing its sharper edge. “That is all you have to do to enjoy these comforts.” He spins his finger in a circle around the room, as if pretty chambers can somehow make up for everything he will do to Xiao Chen. “Certainly better than the dungeons, yes?”
Xiao Chen flexes his jaw. He thought Zhang would at least be honourable enough to make his intentions clear, but then again, he'd also thought Zhang would honourable enough to not do this to him.
He'd thought that, despite their mutual animosity, the former General would at least hold a modicum of respect for Xiao Chen over the years fighting alongside him. He'd thought he'd never find himself sentenced to another lifetime on a bed again, legs spread for the pleasure of yet another emperor.
Then again, Xiao Chen should have known. The lingering looks Zhang left him after duels. The brief, errant touches they used to share in the throes of battle-planning. He should have taken those signs as they were, and realised that at the end of a day, Zhang was simply just a man with desires. And everyone knows an emperor has power to do whatever he wants with his desires. It is his right.
Honour has no place for the likes of someone like Xiao Chen. This is all that he's good for.
He closes his eyes and bows his head as best he can with the ache in his neck. “Yes, Your Highness, thank you for your magnanimity.” He hears his own dull voice in the oppresive air between them. “I will perform as you wish, for my life is in your hands.”
Emperor Zhang has every right to use Xiao Chen as he likes. A lowly prisoner of war could have nothing to plead from the ruler of a country.
The world spins and spins, round and round we go – but here still we find ourselves, stuck at the same starting spot.
Emperor Zhang opens his mouth, like he wants to say more, but in the end, he chooses only to leave Xiao Chen in silence. Thank the deities. What more can he say, after irreversibly ruining the rest of Xiao Chen's life? What else can Xiao Chen say in return?
Xiao Chen stares at his hands. A barred cage for yet another gilded one, this time without even the ability to wield a blade for himself. He buries his face into the treacherous softness of the bed sheets. No noise comes out. Tears fall.
He must resign himself to this lot in life. There is no escape. This is the role he was always meant to play.
The screams of his parents as they burned on a pike were sounds that would haunt him for eternity.
There, Xiao Chen knelt, half-naked and a bare thirteen by the execution pole, the blazing heat and licks of fire curling up the writhing feet of those who once called him ‘sweet child’ and ‘little menace’. (He didn't understand, then, but the Emperor had caught them out for correspondence with a neighbouring enemy. All he knew was that his parents were dying, and he was soon to follow after.)
The Great Emperor Hao stood just a few feet away, his entourage solemn behind him. Xiao Chen was hauled onto the wooden dais, in chains, about to be tied above the ashes of his parents when suddenly, the Emperor held up a hand.
Xiao Chen’s head whipped up in fervent hope. He had been too young to care about revenge, too young to know how dishonourable it is for a son to cow to the murderer of his parents.
He just didn't want to burn like his parents did. (He had always been a selfish, selfish boy.)
Emperor Hao ordered his handler to bring Xiao Chen over. His pudgy fingers pinched at Xiao Chen's cheeks, turning his head this way and that. He told him to open his mouth. Xiao Chen obeyed.
Emperor Hao graced Xiao Chen's mouth with his fingers, ran it along his teeth, the sides of his cheek, and then told him to suck. Xiao Chen, afraid and shaking, did as he was told.
“Hm,” The Emperor clicked his tongue. “Your eyes are pretty.” He plucked his thumb out of Xiao Chen's mouth and smeared it across his tender cheeks. “It would be a waste to let you burn.”
Xiao Chen batted his lashes frantically. The Emperor smiled and allowed him his life. Xiao Chen was grateful.
Emperor Zhang visits Xiao Chen's chambers not two days later. This time, Xiao Chen is ready. He does not labour under the ridiculous notion that Emperor Zhang will somehow treat him as more than he is, that Emperor Zhang's code of honour would somehow apply to him.
It had all been a ruse, last time. Lull Xiao Chen into a sense of security, and then spring reality upon him like a cloaked dagger to make sure he really knows his place.
He hadn't expected Emperor Zhang to be so calculatedly cruel, but things can change over two summers. Things can change over war. For all Xiao Chen knows, Qi Da had been rewarded for his bold initiative of pummelling Xiao Chen to dust, and all that talk of punishment was just to catch Xiao Chen off guard.
His body still aches.
So he will keep all his thoughts and feelings for Zhang Zhe Sheng the Second General in a neat crate and sink it down the river in his head. He will serve Emperor Zhang just as he served Emperor Hao. Men with power are all the same, in the end.
Xiao Chen greets the Emperor on his knees, prostrating himself till his nose touches the floor. The Emperor's feet grow closer, and then halts.
He hears Emperor Zhang scoff overhead. “Such theatrics.” When Xiao Chen remains still, he snaps, impatient. “Get up.”
Xiao Chen gets up, but only to his knees.
Emperor Zhang scowls. “You're being deliberately obtuse.” Xiao Chen fights hard not to flinch. “ On your feet , Xue Xiao Chen.”
Xiao Chen hurriedly rises to his feet, hands held placidly in front of his abdomen, a servant's waiting pose. His eyes are kept respectfully downcast.
There is silence, like the Emperor doesn't quite know what to do with Xiao Chen's obedience. Well. If he had been looking for a reason to punish Xiao Chen, he certainly doesn't have to wait for anything. Just Xiao Chen's existence here is sin enough for him to be beaten.
After a few moments, Xiao Chen hazards a guess that he is meant to slice the thickness of this tension himself. “How may I be of assistance, Your Highness?”
The Emperor lifts his hand. Xiao Chen sucks in a silent breath. He shouldn't have spoken first. He should have waited for the emperor's word. He hunches down, bracing himself.
No fists come for him. Xiao Chen raises his gaze. The emperor is holding out towards him a parchment of paper, his expression inscrutable.
Xiao Chen stares.
The emperor's lips purse together. “I have urgent matters of state.” A pause. “We are to discuss it.”
So they are keeping up with this ruse, then? Xiao Chen would laugh, if he hadn't resolved to be as unobtrusive and expressionless as ever so that the emperor would eventually lose interest in toying with him.
“I am honoured, esteemed Emperor.” Xiao Chen plays along, accepting the papers respectfully, with both hands. “Of what matters do these papers concern?”
Xiao Chen doesn't expect the Emperor to have actual matters to discuss with him, so when he gives a short two sentences about the Council's dissent over the allocation of food stores throughout the country, and raises questions on how best to remedy the issue and when the papers appear to actually show the portions being allocated to each district, Xiao Chen is mildly surprised. He eyes the emperor from the side, cautious. “Your Highness is certain that he would appreciate the words of an enemy convict?”
The Emperor quirks a brow. “Are you planning on using this information to Tian's disadvantage one day?”
Xiao Chen lowers his chin and returns the papers to His Highness. “Sincerest apologies. This one would never dare.” He tries not to think about the way Emperor Zhang casually dangles the hope of one day in front of Xiao Chen's eyes – as if he would ever be free. As if he would ever be allowed to even speak with anyone other than the emperor.
“Just tell me what you think, Xue.” The emperor is using his coaxing tone, just as he once did when he really needed Xiao Chen's opinion on how best to adjust his battle formations, and how to most efficiently infiltrate enemy lines.
Endearing, whispers the part of Xiao Chen that hasn't quite caught up to reality. Irresistible, it croons.
Xiao Chen slams that thought, kicking and screaming, into its designated crate. “The lords in dissent – are they primarily influenced by Lord Xu and Lord Ming?” He keeps his tone clean, impersonal.
“Yes.” The emperor nods. “How did you know?”
Because they're predictable, obviously. “They were influential members of the Second Army, and they were always at odds for some reason or another. Your Council might splinter into two factions if this issue is not resolved quickly.”
Emperor Zhang rolls his eyes, and instinctively, Xiao Chen's insides curdle at the sign of an emperor’s displeasure.
“I know all that.” The emperor crosses his arms. “Just tell me how to fix it, if you're capable.”
Now, Xiao Chen could choose to offer the emperor no substantive advice. He could make himself out to be so useless that the waste of resources required to maintain his life will eventually outweigh the actual beneficial value that he could provide to Emperor Zhang's rule. Once the emperor realises that there is no real use Xiao Chen can offer him, he might be more inclined to remove him from this country.
But Emperor Zhang's order brings with it a familiar note of challenge. A dare, for Xiao Chen to prove himself as more than what he is.
Foolishly, that is enough to lure Xiao Chen into speaking. “Are both lords on equal footing in terms of rank, Your Highness?”
The Emperor nods. “In my council, all warriors are equal. There will be no rigid structure of hierarchy like there was before.”
“And therein lies your difficulty.” Xiao Chen shifts his hands politely behind his back, the stance of an advisor, or a soldier. “The animosity between Lords Xu and Ming has always been a reflection of their sensitivities against each others’ strength of influence. With the First Army now eliminated, the only worthy opponents they have now are each other. With a system that prioritises absolute equality over all else, they have no measure by which to compete with each other.”
“But what does any of that have to do with the allocation of food stores in Lu Zhong and Nan Ren?”
Xiao Chen squints at Emperor Zhang for a brief moment, before remembering himself and looking away. “Your Highness.” He pauses there, hoping Emperor Zhang would manage to arrive at the answer on his own.
He continues to stare at Xiao Chen blankly.
Goodness. Xiao Chen tries his best not to sound exasperated. “Lord Xu is from Lu Zhong; Lord Ming is from Nan Ren. Outwardly, they are advocating for their home provinces. Impliedly, they are competing with each other to see who earns the most favour from Your Highness.”
Emperor Zhang's brows furrow. “You are certain about this?”
“I am certain that it is at least a possibility, Your Highness,” Xiao Chen says, even though he really wants to say, I am certain because it is obvious, you politically ignorant lout.
As if sensing Xiao Chen's unspoken condescension, the emperor scowls. “What should I do about it, then? I don't plan on changing my system of council any time soon.”
Xiao Chen drops his head quickly, respectfully, swallowing the anxious lurch at the base of his throat. “If it pleases you, Your Highness, I suggest reminding everyone in the next council discussion about who is truly at stake at the moment – the people of Tian who are in need of great assistance after the war. Those of the Second Army are already more understanding of Tian's difficulties. It should not be too onerous to remind them of such.”
“Hm,” Emperor Zhang scratches at the growing beard on his chin. “What of allocations, then?” He flags the folded parchment of paper in his hands. “What should I propose to my Council that would make it fair for my people?”
Xiao Chen takes a moment to think on this, before giving his answer. “It may be helpful to allow all the provinces a lower tax rate and higher percentage of incentives in light of the war, Your Highness. Divide their portions based on the estimated province population. Then as the years go by, slowly adjust these rates according to the ebbs and flows of each province's economy.”
This was what should have been done when Emperor Hao started getting richer. This was what Xiao Chen should have pushed for all along, had he been more brave. More principled.
Emperor Zhang frowns. “But then the numbers would not be equal, would it not?”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, homogeneity cannot be expected to work in every context.” Xiao Chen knows he sounds dangerously close to reprimanding his Emperor, but if he should be punished for something (which he already will be anyway), he thinks the people's welfare a good cause to be punished for. “Strive for justiciable equity, not absolute equality. True fairness comes from maintaining proportionality between the needs and capabilities of Tian's people to the availability of Tian's current resources.”
Emperor Zhang falls silent, digesting Xiao Chen's words. After a short moment, the Emperor acquiesces, just as Xiao Chen knew he would. “That’s… actually good advice.”
Xiao Chen tips his head back down. “Honoured to be of service, Your Highness.”
The Emperor considers him for another long moment. Xiao Chen wonders if this is it.
With business now concluded, the Emperor can finally turn his mind to satisfying his desires. Xiao Chen digs his nails into his palms, still resting cordially behind his back.
And then, the emperor remarks, offhandedly, “You haven't cleaned yourself, have you?”
Xiao Chen can't hide his full-body shudder. His head goes as low as it can, cheeks heating as he mutely shakes his head.
He thought he'd be immune to humiliation by now, but apparently, he still has some dignity left to spare.
“Well?” The Emperor prompts, uncaring. “Why haven't you?”
Xiao Chen's current chambers are attached to a private bath. It is not nearly as luxurious as the one he was allowed to use under Emperor Hao's employ, but it is of a high enough calibre to make Xiao Chen draw pause. He knows from experience that things like scented soaps and oils are meant as rewards, indulgences afforded to him only by the benevolent will of his emperor.
“This one apologizes,” Xiao Chen murmurs, his earlier performance of political expertise stripped in an instant. “He should have anticipated that your Highness would prefer this body clean.”
The Emperor's frown tightens. “That was not my question.”
Xiao Chen's shoulders hike up to his ears. You would make me say it? The Emperor looks at him expectantly.
Xiao Chen sighs to himself. Evidently so.
“I did not wish to presume liberties, Your Highness, and erred on the side of caution.” He shifts nervously between the balls of his feet. “But I have clearly underestimated your Highness’ magnanimous generosity. Thank you kindly for–”
“I don't want your flattery.” The Emperor's frown steels into something harsher. “Is that why I hear you’ve not been eating as well? Because you think you are not allowed?”
Xiao Chen doesn't think his head can go any lower and he wishes he could be on his knees for this, just as he used to be in Emperor Hao's presence. At least then he didn't have to face the humiliating torture of being so close to watching the emperor's face dissecting him in real time.
Xiao Chen mumbles a soft yes.
“But why?” It is impressive how well Emperor Zhang can fake his bafflement when he is the one making Xiao Chen admit all the things that are under His Highness’ control. “Why else do you think I ordered the servants to send food up to your chambers regularly?”
Xiao Chen closes himself up in the crate he sunk his feelings for Zhang in and recites tonelessly, “To teach me my place, Your Highness. That every aspect of my life is in your hands – for which I must be grateful.”
“You… you're not lying.” Emperor Zhang is still faking his incredulity. Xiao Chen never knew he had such a cunning side to him. “You truly believe this.”
As if he would ever dare lie from his position.
“Well.” Zhang scrubs one side of his face, weary in a way Xiao Chen hasn't seen before. “I will let you know here as your emperor that you will not be begrudged for keeping yourself clean and healthy. Food, drink, hygiene – these are all things afforded to you. When you fall ill or injured too, you will be given medicine and cared for, even as a prisoner. That is the Sunshade Code.”
Xiao Chen almost asks why, but thinks better of it at the last second. Of course Emperor Zhang would want Xiao Chen to be clean and healthy. He is not Emperor Hao. He does not appreciate fucking dirty, lifeless husks passing for a man lying beneath him. He has higher standards than that.
Xiao Chen murmurs his endless gratitude to the emperor, and asks if His Highness would like him cleaned or fed first. The emperor's brows knit even closer together, but he says it doesn't matter to him, so Xiao Chen decides to get himself clean first. That way, he can get his services for the emperor over and done with, without too much messiness.
He cleans himself perfunctorily, choosing the lavender and ashwood scents because he knows from memory that those are the scents which occasionally linger in the emperor's previous sleeping quarters as a soldier. He even spends some time stretching his blossom with lithe fingers, in anticipation for how big the emperor will be when he takes him. When he comes out, though, the emperor is nowhere to be found.
He goes to his knees and waits. And waits. And waits.
It is only when the sun sets that Xiao Chen realises that the emperor is not coming back. He'd made him go through all that preparation for nothing.
Xiao Chen covers his eyes, and laughs. Angry and bitter, he laughs like a madman, until there are tears streaming down his eyes. And then he cries, for no particular reason at all. He thinks his eyes will become ridiculously red if he continues on like this. He curls into a ball by the foot of his bed.
Pathetic.
Emperor Zhang returns to him three weeks later. By then, Xiao Chen has grown used to the routine that has been set for him.
In the mornings, one of the emperor’s cold-faced serfs would bring him his meals for the day. Nothing luxurious, but not as plain as those bowls of gruel from the dungeons either. Xiao Chen would ration the meal so it lasts him for the day – only because the emperor expects him to be healthy – and then by evening, someone else would collect the wares from his chambers without looking at him.
Sometimes, every two to three days or so, the soldiers stationed outside Xiao Chen's quarters would order him to take a walk in the garden, as that is what the Emperor wishes. Xiao Chen would do so in quiet obeisance, wrists bound and neck bent. He would take two spins around the Emperor's well-tended garden, watched by two warriors who had the authority to strike him down if he so much as stepped a toe out of his designated boundaries.
Anyone with the misfortune of seeing Xiao Chen while on his mandated walks never bother to hide their contempt from him, of course. Most of them choose not to acknowledge him, but the ones that do usually do it with a cold sneer on their faces, or a taunting smirk, or a loudly shouted, why, hello there, Hao's bitch.
It is another way of humiliating him, parading him around palace grounds like that. Thankfully, though, no one ever takes it upon themselves to do what Qi Da did to Xiao Chen, so the emperor may not merely have been trifling when he last spoke with Xiao Chen about the matter.
It makes sense, Xiao Chen supposes. In the early days, Emperor Hao too had a thing for making sure that Xiao Chen was left untouched by no other hand except his own, even if that touch was only violent and barely sexual in nature.
Overall, though, Xiao Chen's captivity is a wholly comfortable existence. He is not beaten, he is not starved. He is given moments to stretch his legs. He is even allowed books every now and then, switched out periodically by the servants who give him food.
Xiao Chen knows how thankful he should be, when there is so much that could have been done to him. So when the soldier outside his chambers suddenly announces the Emperor's arrival, Xiao Chen makes no hesitation falling to his knees in gratitude, just as he did the first time.
Emperor Zhang only sighs loudly again, distinctly unimpressed. “This again?”
“Your Highness.” Xiao Chen bows, but does not go so far as to touch the ground. He remembers Emperor Zhang's distaste for that then.
The emperor waves his palm upwards in an impatient gesture, still unhappy. Xiao Chen rises to his feet, and follows behind his emperor who walks towards the wooden chaise situated beside Xiao Chen's perpetually unopened windows. (Xiao Chen can't be bothered opening them knowing that he must close them at night.)
The emperor sits as Xiao Chen stands.
Xiao Chen clasps his hands politely, in front of his stomach as a palace attendant does, eyes lowered to the fur rug at his feet. He tries hard not to position his head such that he is looking down upon the sitting emperor. Things would be so much simpler if he could just stay on his knees.
Fortunately, the emperor does not make Xiao Chen guess whether he should break his silence first this time. “Your advice regarding Lords Xiu and Ming.” His Highness says haltingly. “It was effective.”
“I am glad to be of use, Your Highness.”
“I've implemented the system of equity we discussed as well. It is perhaps too soon to predict what will come of it, but I have high hopes that it will come to great fruition in the next few summers.” The emperor sounds more subdued than the last two times he spoke with Xiao Chen. Less angered, somehow. “The people seem happy now, at the very least.”
Perhaps he now knows Xiao Chen no longer has any will left to defy him, and thus has no need to antagonise him. Xiao Chen hopes that means he will be spared some pain when the emperor eventually decides to make use of his body.
Xiao Chen's head dips humbly. “May Your Highness’ wishes be soon realised in its entirety, then.”
The emperor tilts his head to the side. “You don't have anything else to say?”
Xiao Chen stiffens. What is he supposed to say? Is he supposed to say anything, or is it just a rhetorical question?
“Not going to gloat?” Despite his words, there is no heat to the emperor’s tone. “Preen on about how my rulership could never be favourable without your gracious insight, perhaps?”
Xiao Chen's eyes skate up in fright, but fly back down once they find the full weight of his emperor's testy gaze fixed upon him.
Once upon a time, when making fun of Zhang Zhe Sheng held no more repercussions than an annoyed growl, Xiao Chen might have enjoyed the light chirping that went on between him and the Second Army General. But here, faced with that same man turned Emperor sitting with one elbow casually propped atop his knee, scrutinising him with intense eyes, Xiao Chen’s shoulders can only curl inwards. His heart drums frenetically.
His mouth moves of its own accord, desperate. He has been treated well thus far, for a bed slave. He really doesn't want things to change.
“This one would never dare, Your Highness, for he is of no place to criticise Your Highness’ ways.” He hears himself say. “Your Highness’ esteemed reign is battle-won and hard-fought, and you will make a tremendous ruler indeed for the people of Tian. There will be no better–”
Emperor Zhang clicks his tongue. Xiao Chen falls swiftly silent. “Again, if I wanted flattery, I would have asked for it.”
The emperor's displeasure is sudden as it is cutting. Xiao Chen curls in further on himself.
The emperor lets out a deep sigh. “Calm yourself, Xue Xiao Chen.” He sounds tired. He gestures at the length of space beside him. “Sit.”
To sit at the same level as one’s emperor is preposterous. But Xiao Chen cannot quite bring himself to refute the emperor's direct order, so gingerly, he takes his seat at a moderate distance from the emperor. Not so close as to offend the emperor, but still within grabbing range should the emperor wish to make use of him.
The emperor turns to look out the window. They sit in silence for a while longer, before the emperor asks, without looking at Xiao Chen, “What do you want?”
“Your Highness?”
“You've provided me with advice that has well benefited me and this nation, so you should be rewarded.” Emperor Zhang's eyes are affixed upon the vast blue sky overhead. “So what would you like your reward to be?”
“I could not presume to–”
“You're not presuming.” Emperor Zhang snips. “I'm offering. What do you want, Xue?”
Slowly, carefully, Xiao Chen raises his eyes just enough to study the emperor from the side. He does not appear to be joking.
Is this another ploy to lull Xiao Chen into a false sense of security? Or has he perhaps tired himself of the effort it takes to maintain Xiao Chen's health? After only a good few weeks?
Whatever the emperor's reasons, Xiao Chen has long since learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth, when given the opportunity. Just in case, though, he thinks it appropriate to confirm, “I am allowed to ask for anything, Your Highness?”
Emperor Zhang gives a brusque nod, still not looking at Xiao Chen. “Anything at all.”
Xiao Chen worries the bottom of his lip, chews the insides of his cheeks, before letting his answer fall from his tongue.
“Then with an abundance of respect and overflowing gratitude, may this one humbly ask to be relieved from the pitiful entrapment that is his own mortality?”
Emperor Zhang's head snaps over to Xiao Chen, like a cracking whip.
Xiao Chen hurries to fill the gaps. “A public execution of the First Army General would be most welcome for the new people of Tian, you see. It would symbolise your dedication to eradicating the new Tian of pests of old, to rule without a hint of the past looming over your people.” As the emperor stays more silent, the hopeless pit in Xiao Chen's stomach grows. “And it would be beneficial too, for your Highness’ reign. Grateful as I am, lingering in your palace halls serves the adverse impression that Your Highness would still keep a piece of the late Emperor Hao in your gloriously just rule.”
The emperor opens his mouth, and then closes it. And then opens it again, in palpable shock. “Anything you could possibly want, anything you could possibly ask for, and you ask me for death?”
Xiao Chen tips his head to the ground. He does not think it a wholly unreasonable request, given the circumstances. “Only if my emperor wishes for it as well.”
“I do not– I do not wish for that.” The emperor shakes his head, vehement. “Ask for anything else, and I will grant it. Anything else. Your death would not– No. Goodness, Xue Xiao Chen, have you gone mad ?” He looks at Xiao Chen imploringly, desperate for something Xiao Chen doesn't know to give. “Tell me something else that you wish for.”
No. Xiao Chen cannot let his hopes be played like this again. He cannot keep letting Zhang do this to him.
“I have no other wishes, Your Highness.” He lowers his head till his chin is tucked all the way against his chest.
“Really?” Emperor Zhang shoots up from his seat. “Really?”
He starts pacing around Xiao Chen's room, quick-stepped and frenetic, as if looking for a way out, even though he is the one keeping Xiao Chen in here. “You could ask for your freedom. I would give it, if you asked.” The sentence is dropped carelessly, thoughtlessly, like the emperor truly cannot comprehend why Xiao Chen would have no place to go other than the great beyond.
“I could not go, Emperor Zhang.” Xiao Chen mumbles, body tense. “I live by your word.”
“You could run! There have been so many chances for you to run! Your soldiers give you a wide berth whenever you take your strolls. Your windows can be opened during the day.” Emperor Zhang whirls in on Xiao Chen, getting more and more agitated as he speaks. “So many leeways for you to escape, and yet you've never once tried to take it.”
Xiao Chen had been wondering about that. He'd thought it was some sort of test, some sort of way for him to show his loyalty to the new Emperor.
“I know you have the ability to – I've seen you fight. None of my soldiers could defeat you, if you truly exerted yourself.” The emperor starts walking towards where Xiao Chen is wedged against the wall. “You're stronger than this, former First Army General Xue.”
Xiao Chen holds his breath as the emperor towers over him entirely, just as he did in those dungeons so many suns ago.
Emperor Hao stands over Xiao Chen, towers over him entirely – heart, body and soul, all of Xiao Chen, below His Highness, his rightful place. His hand ripping into Xiao Chen's hair, his loins stabbing into Xiao Chen's throat, in, out, in, out–
Is this how things will start? With Emperor Zhang furious over an infraction Xiao Chen cannot change? Will he push him down now, and take what is already his? Or will he wait until Xiao Chen has debased himself fully, wait until Xiao Chen strips himself bare of all clothing, all finesse, and presses him until the only thing left of Xiao Chen is a shadow of who he once was?
Is that what Emperor Zhang wants?
“Answer me, Xue Xiao Chen.”
Xiao Chen jolts. He does not understand the point of such questions. He does not dare raise his eyes. His emperor is waiting. Xiao Chen does not know what to say.
Emperor Hao hates waiting. Earlier, from his private training days, Xiao Chen had come back to his chambers late, exhausted from the day's physical activity, only to find Emperor Hao glowering at him from across the room. He hadn't known Emperor Hao was expecting him.
The punishment he received was thorough and merciless – Emperor Hao pushed his member deep and hard into his gaping blossom without oils for the first time. Xiao Chen bled as he cried.
There was nowhere he could go, no one he could tell – for who would dare speak ill of an emperor who makes use of his traitor's son?
“I am yours, Emperor Zhang. My life is yours.” Xiao Chen tries, but the emperor’s face only grows more murderous. “I– there is nowhere for me to go. The people would tear me to shreds the second I step outside Your Highness’ palace and I… I beg that his Highness does not put me to such a fate?”
Is that what Emperor Zhang wants? Blatant begging?
“Why do you say that like it's a question?” Emperor Zhang narrows his eyes. “Is that really what you mean?”
Yes. Yes, that is what Emperor Zhang wants. Of course it is. He has never stopped at anything to claw for Xiao Chen’s full and total humiliation before, even back when they were privates. Always looking for a chance to duel, for a chance to best Xiao Chen in battle.
Not going to beg for your life? Not going to prostrate yourself at my feet just like you did with Hao Jue Yi to curry his favour?
Of course that is what he wants. Xiao Chen slips to the floor, back on his knees. He gently clasps the emperor's ankles as he lowers himself to the ground.
“Please, Emperor Zhang.” He infuses his voice with all the fear he feels, all his vulnerabilities splayed open to appease his emperor. “This one begs Your Highness not to leave him to the justice of your great people, for they are rightful in their anger, and their wrath would be no less than this one deserves, but please–” Xiao Chen presses his trembling lips to the emperor's boots. “Please, this one knows he is of no place to beg his emperor for anything, and that he is not deserving of the honour of an execution, but please, may he be subjected to a fate less cruel than the pain that he deserves to receive in this life. Please, may the scourge that he is be rid from this world by the cold, clean cut of an axe, and not the burn of flesh, please–”
“Stop, Xiao Chen.” The emperor's voice is low and subdued. He is not pleased, but he is not as angry as he was before either. That is good. That is progress.
Xiao Chen huddles at his emperor's feet, his rightful place.
The emperor crouches down beside him, and still, Xiao Chen's forehead stays on the ground. His hands stay clasped on the emperor's ankle.
“Raise your head.” Xiao Chen takes a beat too late to comply. The emperor nudges his shoulder, but it is with barely any force at all. “Raise your head and look at me. Please.”
Xiao Chen obeys. His eyes draw slowly from the emperor's boots to his face and what he sees there– what he sees there sends him back to when they were both just privates training in Emperor Hao's army.
“Xue Xiao Chen! I challenge you to a duel!” Zhang Zhe Sheng stabs his broadsword into the ground, yelling at the top of his lungs. Raucous. Determined.
“Again, Private Zhang?” He asks, even though he is already unsheathing his own blade, swinging it in the air with thoughtless grace. “Hungering for more of your own defeat, are we?”
Zhang Zhe Sheng puffs out his chest, holding his chin high. “My blade will find its victory today, pretty soldier.”
Xiao Chen lifts a cool brow. The moniker is familiar, but somehow, it feels less offensive when Zhang says it, like he doesn't quite know the weight that name holds. He is a year younger than Xiao Chen, and he's only just been enlisted into the palace military for training. He knows very little.
Xiao Chen raises his blade. “Come at me, then, little tiger.”
Zhe Sheng grins, and charges forward. Full of determination. Full of strength. Full of sincerity.
Zhang Zhe Sheng looks at Xiao Chen in that same way now, sans the glee. Xiao Chen cannot fathom why. He is no worthy opponent any longer – Zhang Zhe Sheng has taken his victory. He has won. Xiao Chen has tasted and is tasting his defeat.
So why is Zhang looking at him like there is some battle left still to be conceded? What more could Xiao Chen possibly give to him?
“I will not kill you.”
Xiao Chen feels his shoulders deflate. He feels himself looking away. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Hey, hey–” The emperor's fingers press against Xiao Chen's chin, tilting it back. Xiao Chen freezes for a moment, but relaxes when the fingers do not seem poised to press harder. “– listen to me, Xue. I will not kill you, but I will not leave you out for the wolves either. I… it is clear that in your own way, you care for the people, even if you did not show it in the war. Such a fate is not for you.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Xiao Chen resists the urge to bow, mostly because the emperor hasn't allowed him to yet, but partly because he secretly likes the contact between the emperor's absurdly light fingers against his skin. It is warm. Gentle. (Xiao Chen has not been a recipient of such a touch in a long, long time.)
“Do you remember what you said to me, Xiao Chen? In the dungeons?”
Is Zhang planning to punish him for that now ?
“You asked me how I would know the ways to rule Tian. You asked me if I needed your advice on whether to kill you or not.”
Xiao Chen strengthens his jaw, waiting for Zhang's grip to tighten. “My apologies.”
“No, that's not what I–,” The emperor blows out a puff of breath. “I chose not to kill you because I knew I needed you, Xiao Chen. Do you get it? I needed you. Without your mind, I would not know how to manage the political ailments of running a country. I would not even know where to begin looking for those ailments.”
Xiao Chen tries to deny Zhang's senseless thoughts, because anyone who knows how to plan for war will eventually be able to see the subtleties of political battle. Zhang, with his bright, determined mind would surely–
Emperor Zhang shakes his head once, and Xiao Chen's mouth snaps shut.
“Xue Xiao Chen, you have the upper hand here. Do you not see it? You have what I need.” At Xiao Chen's tightly confused expression, the emperor rattles on. “You can bargain with me for more. For a better life here. I would– I am Emperor now. What I say is what goes. If I deem you pardoned, so you will be.”
Xiao Chen scrunches his nose. Why is the emperor saying such ridiculous things? “The people would not be happy with that, Your Highness.”
“I know that.” Emperor Zhang rakes a rough hand through his hair. “But I– I hate to see you like this, Xue Xiao Chen. This was never the fate I wanted for you.”
Ah, so that's what this is. The crease in Xiao Chen's brow clears. Sentiment. Some things never change.
Zhang Zhe Sheng had always been this way. Some backwater enemy village could not be razed because an old man there gave him fish once, for instance; or, a battle would need to be called off because there were only child soldiers left in their opponent's armies.
Xiao Chen had forgotten just how much sentiment factored into his decisions. Not executing the general who served directly as Emperor Hao's watchdog, who ordered battles that caused almost two hundred Sunshades’ death because of some prior history and a belief that Xue Xiao Chen somehow deserved better? That sort of logic is preposterous. Impossible, even.
But Zhang Zhe Sheng had always been an impossible man. It makes sense that that will be who he is now as emperor.
Nevertheless, if that is what the emperor wants, there is little harm in complying. He wants Xiao Chen and him to feel more like equals. He wants what they once had. He is not cruel enough to take someone that is so thoroughly beneath him, but he wants Xiao Chen all the same.
He just wants to take Xiao Chen in circumstances suited to his sentimental tastes. The answer to this conundrum is simple.
“Marry me, then.” Xiao Chen says, the solution easy on his tongue.
Emperor Zhang snatches his fingers away from Xiao Chen face. “What?”
Xiao Chen lifts his shoulder in a way that he hopes looks enticing. “Your Highness is caught between sentiment for our history and the need to do right by this country. If we are wed, you could still keep me here as your advisor, but we would be more like equals. That is what you desire, yes?”
Emperor Zhang nods slowly, as if testing out Xiao Chen's words in his mind's eye.
“It could also help the nation too, if we do it right.” Xiao Chen muses. “I trust there are still Hao loyalists amongst the people – if they see our union as a symbol, they might be soothed that not all tradition will be lost.”
Xiao Chen realises how bold a statement that is only when it leaves his mouth. Instinctively, he ducks his head away in anticipation of a reprimand, a blow, anything – but the emperor doesn't even raise his hand. He only urges Xiao Chen to finish his thoughts with a strange, gentle hum.
Xiao Chen’s hands press together in his lap. “It would be a marriage between old and new. A symbol for peace and unity amongst the people, should that be what Your Highness wishes for.”
“It is,” Emperor Zhang concedes, and Xiao Chen could melt with the relief that courses through his body with the knowledge that he is finally getting things right. “And that is what you truly wish for? Our union?”
Xiao Chen studies the emperor's expression. His eyes are wide open, his pupils dilated, his cheeks flush with anticipation. It is clear that the emperor is eager for this, and It would be beneficial for his nation. Not just from an angle of peace, but also from the fact that those who despised Xiao Chen's as First Army General would have the satisfaction of seeing him officially brought low to the position of private consort, a lifetime of serving their emperor.
So a union would be good, for Zhang Zhe Sheng as an emperor of this nation.
In the spirit of experiment, Xiao Chen lets an approximation of the cocky smirk alight his features, similar to when they were privates. “Of course, Your Highness. It would be an honour.”
Emperor Zhang lights up with the full force of his blinding handsomeness. He is finally satisfied.
Xiao Chen's smirk softens into a half-smile. So this is how he is supposed to act. Similar to who he was before the Revolution, but still respectful of the emperor's novel status. The line between companionability and insolence will be a delicate one to toe, but Xiao Chen is confident he will become adept at managing it.
He has to.
The emperor walks into Xiao Chen's chambers three suns later, gives him a cursory glance, and then frowns. “What are you still doing in here?”
Xiao Chen blinks up from the book in his hands. “Was I expected elsewhere, Your Highness?”
He has learnt that the emperor does not like it when he kneels and bows. The emperor likes it when Xiao Chen affects a sense of normalcy. The emperor likes it when Xiao Chen does not show his fear.
The emperor bites his lip. “The tailors need to measure us for our matrimonial wear.”
“Ah, I see. My apologies.” Xiao Chen places the book away, and slips from the bed to his feet. Since their last conversation, he has been granted more variety of silks and patterns of clothing – they all look beautiful. A lot of them bear resemblance to the morning sky. He knows the servants must have picked it for him with Emperor Zhang's tastes in mind, so it is only a lucky coincidence that he and the emperor share the same preference in colour.
Emperor Zhang stares at him, looking slightly perplexed, but offers an arm anyway. Xiao Chen takes it gracefully, linking his arm into the crook of the emperor's elbow. A docile lamb, willingly placed into the tiger's trap.
As they walk out, the emperor asks, “You know you are not bound to your chambers anymore now, right?”
“Your Highness?”
“No more guards.” The emperor is speaking to him slowly, cautiously, like handling glass. “You can roam about this palace freely, without supervision. You are no longer in captivity.”
“Oh.” Xiao Chen blinks in surprise. “I did not know that, Your Highness.”
Emperor Zhang's steps grow a little heavier as he walks. “You are my betrothed now.” His tone is clipped. “I would not do that to you.”
Of course. There is no need to keep Xiao Chen confined to one space anymore, now that the emperor knows that there is nowhere for Xiao Chen to go.
Xiao Chen weaves his lips into a sultry smile, fluttering his lashes in a way he hopes the emperor will like. “And I suppose I have Your Highness to thank for convincing the Council of this little change in protocol, then?”
Zhang looks away quickly, a tinge of red colouring his cheeks. Xiao Chen wonders why he bothers to hide his attraction at all when he already has every right to act as he pleases.
Zhang coughs lightly into his free hand. “The Council has been assured that despite your choice of allegiance during the Sunshade Revolution, your thoughts have always been for the people.”
“Your Highness is gracious indeed,” Xiao Chen demurs sweetly.
When he next looks up, the blush in Emperor Zhang's cheeks is suddenly all gone, replaced by a dour expression, like he's just swallowed something particularly unpleasant. He says nothing more than a simple I know, even though it is clear that he is unhappy about something.
Xiao Chen tries to parse out what he'd said that had so offended his emperor's sensibilities, but even after their measurements have been taken, even after Xiao Chen has been escorted to his chambers, even after he turns their conversation in his mind over and over again – He still cannot figure it out.
It leaves Xiao Chen anxious and apprehensive. He does not like being confused about things. He sincerely hopes these types of confusion do not become a constant in his future role as his emperor's pet consort.
The emperor seems keen on making this marriage seem like a real one.
He orders for swathes of red cloth and silks to be brought into the communal halls, for the best meat in town to be brought in for the feast, the best chefs in the palace to be in charge of the meals. The luxuries he asks for are not at the expense of his citizens, for they are all happy to bring to their new emperor his whimsical demands. Emperor Zhang had done his due diligence by ensuring that the palace's wealth and food stores were enough to cover this level of indulgence (which they were, considering Emperor Hao's hoarding tendencies) before issuing his letter of invitation to the nation.
Everyone is happy for the emperor. Everyone is happy to serve him.
Xiao Chen, however, cannot walk two steps out of his chambers without encountering some leering servant, some snickering soldier. He knows he should be used to it. People used to do it all the time when he laid beneath Emperor Hao, just not to his face. It is easier to ignore crude cruelties when they only live behind your back.
Xiao Chen supposes he deserves this, though. He chose his side in the war, knowing full well of Emperor Hao's injustices. He made his own bed.
“The bed you lie upon, it is mine. The clothes you wear, it is mine. The air you breathe, it is there only because I granted you life,” Emperor Hao whispers into Xiao Chen's right ear as he pounds him into dust, his member slicking in and out of Xiao Chen's well-used hole. “Never forget that.”
Xiao Chen would never dare forget who granted him his life, even though he is not particularly fond of it. Which is why, when Emperor Zhang bids for him to join him in the training arena, Xiao Chen can do nothing but nod and follow. When Emperor Zhang hands him a wooden sword, he can do nothing but take it and stare.
When Emperor Zhang tells him to fight, he can do nothing but allow his body to move against his better judgment.
Zhang's swordsmanship has always been objectively skilled. His foundational footwork comes to him as easy as lightning, and his broad weight is used to his advantage, pushing Xiao Chen into a corner, time and time again.
Except, Xiao Chen is good at slipping through the cracks. He is wily, swift, and small. He dodges Zhang's heavy blows, sidesteps his heavy weight, stealing his way into the emperor's weak spots, letting the game roll on.
He never deals the finishing cut, at first. There had been two openings for him to do so, but he lets Zhang regain the upper hand, then continues dancing out of reach. He makes Zhang feel satisfied, but not to the extent of actually besting him.
The third time when Xiao Chen doesn't take an opening, Zhang notices. He stops entirely. Xiao Chen slows his steps with a thud in his heart.
Had he acted too boldly? Was he supposed to be less skilled in the face of his emperor's kind indulgence?
“You're holding back,” is what his emperor says instead.
“I have no idea what you're talking about, Emperor Zhang.”
Zhang scowls. “Don't lie to me.” He throws his wooden sword to the ground. “Fight as you would normally. I don't need to be coddled.”
A glimpse of Zhang, baby-faced private, yelling at Xiao Chen not to take it easy on him. Rising to every challenge with raised fists, fiery scowls.
Xiao Chen feels his own eyes soften. Still the same with every fight. “Very well. Thank you for the honour, then.” Here, he speaks as a warrior.
Zhang nods, and they resume their sparring in earnest. It is satisfying.
Xiao Chen is lucky that the emperor enjoys a good fight more than anything else. Xiao Chen is lucky that he himself does too. That for a few moments, he is allowed to feel as he once was – respected. Valued.
When Zhang leaves him in his chambers for the night, Xiao Chen resists the urge to hold him back by the hand. He resists the urge to say, stay . I would give everything to you, Your Highness. You are already a far better man Hao Jue Yi could ever hope to be. Stay.
He cannot say anything, for it is not up to a prisoner to dictate his emperor's affections.
He is in his chambers, in the middle of explaining to the emperor how crucial it is for the invited Tian commoners to receive some token of appreciation for their contributions to the wedding – red packets filled with coin or sweet pastries they can bring home to their families – when the emperor asks his question. “Why didn't you pick our side?”
Xiao Chen freezes mid-sentence. He glances up at the emperor cautiously. His emperor's brows are only furrowed in consternation, though, not displeasure.
“You obviously care for the people, and you knew what we were fighting for,” The emperor continues. “Why would you continue serving that man when you understood, perhaps more than anyone else, the atrocities he was committing?”
It is a direct inquiry, one that is impolite for Xiao Chen to refuse. He fiddles with the hems of his new robes. “Your Highness would like the truth?”
Emperor Zhang nods, solemn. “The truth is the only thing I ever want.”
“I served him,” Xiao Chen replies, hoping that could encapsulate everything it was that he did for the late emperor. Hoping that Emperor Zhang would accept that statement as it is. Hoping that he would not ask for more stories of Xiao Chen's debasement.
He had to have known the role Xiao Chen played for the late emperor. It had been an open secret amongst everyone who worked for the palace. He has to know. He doesn't need to hear Xiao Chen recount the sordid details of his sorry past.
Emperor Zhang continues staring at him quizzically.
“I pledged my loyalty to him, to his crown. I could not leave –” Xiao Chen's shoulders hunch forward. “– I could not leave the rest of the nobles to fend for themselves. The younger ones. I had to make sure they got to safety, before… well. Before you eventually took over.”
“It took you two years to get them to safety?” Mercifully, he does not ask where safety is. Xiao Chen does not think he could tell him that, even if he were tortured.
“Their families were stubborn.” Xiao Chen rubs his forearm, tilting his neck to the side. “I tried my best.” He averts his gaze to the bed.
A pause. “You always thought that I would win?”
A rueful smile, unbidden, tugs at the corners of Xiao Chen's lips. Still so eager for praise, after all this time. “There was never any doubt about that, for me.”
“You made it easier for us, at the end.” The emperor comments. “When we infiltrated the palace. You made it easier for us to enter, didn't you?” He asks it like a question, but he says it like a statement he already knows is true.
Xiao Chen stays silent. That is probably answer enough, he thinks. The emperor smirks at him, a sly sideways grin, before patting him on the shoulder as he leaves.
He thinks the emperor is happy with him, against all odds. That is good. Surely, it is a sign that his emperor will be merciful to Xiao Chen on their wedding night.
The wedding is a wonderfully grand ordeal. The decorations are elaborate, the gifts are exquisite. Xiao Chen is pretty sure someone came in with a sculpture of Emperor Zhang crafted out of pure gold. The people adore their ruler to pieces.
Xiao Chen is not foolish enough to expect for that adoration to be extended to him. They tolerate his presence, at most. Their brisk nods at him when they come to congratulate their emperor on his blessed union is the most respect Xiao Chen can think to receive.
When it comes time for Emperor Zhang and Xiao Chen to exchange bows, they bow once as a couple to the gods, and then twice to each other.
Both of them have no family. They are the last standing representatives of their ancestors. When they look across at each other from their respective ends of the dais, a world of understanding passes between them. But when they rise back to their feet, their true places are made apparent once again.
Emperor Zhang sits upon his golden throne, fanned and fed by his row of attending servants. Xiao Chen sits upon a grey stone-backed seat, one step lower than his emperor, as is custom. He smiles demurely at the happy processions being presented before them.
The people are keen on showcasing their many talents. Archery. Fan dances. Swordsmanship. Lion dances. Martial arts. Tian is a magnificent nation indeed, full of talents that will only flourish under Emperor Zhang Zhe Sheng's rule.
His emperor must be so proud.
Behind His Imperial Highness, is a mountain of expensive gifts. Beside Xiao Chen, is a single paper flower some commoner's child had deigned fit to bestow upon him.
The child's mother had been embarrassed, but Xiao Chen assured the child, with a serious hand on his heart, that he would keep this flower till the end of his days. The young girl beamed at his words, but her mother shot Xiao Chen a scathing look and ushered the child away. Xiao Chen keeps his smile plastered on his face anyway.
He deserves no more respect. He is only a concubine, after all, and a publically despised one at that. To secure his reign, the emperor will eventually have to take a wife. A royal empress, who will secure him many an heir, and who will rule Tian with her husband, side by side.
His Highness may favour Xiao Chen now, and Xiao Chen is lucky to be able to go from prisoner to pet consort, but he knows it will not last forever.
He is grateful nonetheless, for his Highness’ mercy.
The people whisper, their tongues unravelling as the ceremony progresses, but their thoughts are nothing new to Xiao Chen. Nothing he cannot handle.
I always knew he wasn't worth anything more than what he could give our emperors behind closed doors.
He won't last a single summer with His Highness, I'm sure. The Emperor's honour could never be so tainted by that thing's treacherous nature.
He graduated from being the Hao dog's whore to our esteemed Emperor's ornament. I hope the Emperor teaches that pretty thing well.
That last one, voiced a little too loudly, reaches the emperor's ears and causes him stand from his throne. A cloud of darkness looms across his face, and quickly, Xiao Chen stands with his husband to mitigate the consequences.
The emperor looks down at him, and Xiao Chen could kneel instantly in obeisance from the transparent look of anger written upon his face, if it wasn't for the enraptured audience before them and the knowledge that a scene would greatly disadvantage his emperor's position with his people. So instead, Xiao Chen smiles serenely, placing a steady hand on his emperor's upper arm, guiding him a slow step down to his level upon the dais.
He cranes his neck up to whisper something into the emperor's ear behind a closed palm, and then leans away to bow respectfully. The picture of someone who has the emperor's favour, but also knows his place.
The people are watching, Your Highness. This is not the place to make a scene. I'm sorry.
Emperor Zhang fixes his face into a more presentable expression. “Thank you for the festivities tonight, people of Tian. I shall retire with my husband for the rest of our night.” With that, he guides Xiao Chen away, an arm upon his waist.
Someone, in all their infinite wisdom, decides to mutter right as the emperor is exiting the halls, “From one bed to another, how easily his legs spread .”
The emperor's eyes flick over to the shameless gossiper like a hawk. It is Qi Da, sullen with a frown, face flushed with drink. Xiao Chen closes his eyes, murmuring a prayer to the skies and all its gods.
Before the emperor can open his mouth, Xiao Chen beats him to it. He must look quite the picture, snow white hair adorned with red ribbon and little rubies, forehead graced with scarlet ink petals, reprimanding a soldier while draped across the emperor's right arm. “Young soldier,” He lets his voice ring cold and calm. “I pray you do not mean to question our emperor's will with your careless words.”
Qi Da glares up at Xiao Chen, but he must catch something on Emperor Zhang's face when he looms closer to Xiao Chen's side, because the young soldier smartly prevaricates. “I did not… that was not my intention.” He looks away, bowing quickly in Emperor Zhang's direction. “My apologies, Your Highness.”
“Hm.” Emperor Zhang's hum makes it sound like he has more to say, but Xiao Chen nods and subtly guides his emperor out the halls before the scene can be exacerbated further.
The emperor cannot risk looking unappreciative of his subjects on this day. He cannot risk losing his temper and having the subjects’ loyalty in him waver. Not at Xiao Chen’s expense, at any rate.
The emperor leads them to their wedding chambers with a furious look on his face. He is unhappy. Xiao Chen remains as still as he can, walking by his side.
Eventually, they reach the emperor's chambers. It is the same one Emperor Hao used to inhabit. The emperor lets Xiao Chen enter first. Xiao Chen feels his own breaths quicken as he does.
As soon as the door closes, the emperor bursts into his tirade. “The nerve of these people. To say those things right in front of us. At our wedding!”
Xiao Chen’s hands clutch each other behind his back. Squeezes onto the festive red sash tying his outer robes together by the waist. The emperor does not like kneeling, and so Xiao Chen cannot do so.
“How can you stay so poised still? So calm?” The emperor waves an incensed hand at Xiao Chen. “Are you not– do those words not positively infuriate you?”
Xiao Chen bites at his lower lip, looking down. “I'm sorry, Your Highness.”
The emperor stops in front of him. Even standing, he towers over Xiao Chen's slight frame. His hands are large and rough when they reach out to shake Xiao Chen's shoulders.
“Why are you sorry?”
“For causing Your Highness’ deep dishonour.” Xiao Chen cannot help but avert his gaze. “This one's history is… it is indeed unsavoury.”
“Wait.” The emperor pulls back. There is astonishment in his tone. “You… you were actually in Emperor Hao's bed?”
Xiao Chen's head swivels up. His heart pounds. “Your Highness was not aware?” How? How could he not have been. Everyone had been talking about it, all the way back since they were privates.
“ No , I was not aware! I thought everyone was jealous of you, so they made up stories to tell each other to pass the time!” Emperor Zhang roars in fury.
In the past, when Zhang Zhe Sheng raised his voice, Xiao Chen at least had his sword to defend himself. Here, adorned with pretty silk and floral patterns, he is powerless. Defenceless. He is not allowed to fight back.
Emperor Zhang's arm swipes up in the air, and Xiao Chen barely manages to hide his flinch. “Oh, lords, you were the late emperor's lover! That’s why you could not leave him, why you were so loyal. You loved him.”
What? Love? Xiao Chen knows nothing about love.
All he knows is that when the emperor told him to open his mouth, he opened his mouth. When the emperor told him to clean his foot with his tongue, he cleaned his emperor's foot with his tongue. When the emperor told him to choke on his cock, he choked on his emperor's cock.
Was that love? Xiao Chen doesn't know, so he stays silent.
The emperor snarls. He grabs at Xiao Chen's shoulders again, but this time, Xiao Chen fails to stifle his flinch. The emperor doesn't care. He snatches him into his arms, merciless, boxing Xiao Chen in against his chest as he shoves his way to their matrimonial bed.
Xiao Chen feels the back of his knees hit the frame of the bed. He steels himself, making himself as soft and pliant as can be in the emperor's grasp.
His husband strips him of his ornamented headwear first, making his pale white hair flow messy and unkempt. A man's honour, so easily shed. He strips him of his red outer robes next, the ceremonial wear from their facade of a wedding removed to reveal the pale white robes underneath.
Xiao Chen's throat makes no sound, but the beating from his heart is deafening. He should have known that it would come to this.
He should have known that, no matter how hard he tries, he will always fail to keep his emperor happy. All his efforts, all their progress – it was always going to be for naught.
The emperor did not know the extent of his depravity in serving Emperor Hao. He did not know how shameful a being he has been forced to partner with.
There will be no gentleness in this affair. No kindness. Xiao Chen knows he is deserving of none, but he had allowed himself to hope anyway.
Xiao Chen feels himself being thrown back. The back of his head bounces against the cushion of His Highness’ bed. His legs, spread apart by his emperor's strong thighs; his hands, raised overhead and pinned by his emperor's merciless grip.
A keening whine escapes Xiao Chen's throat, half-theatrically. His eyes squeeze shut. He is ready.
The emperor stills above him.
Xiao Chen freezes. Does he prefer silence in sex? He is about to launch into his apologies, when suddenly, feather-light fingers come to caress his cheeks.
Xiao Chen stiffens up, but he does not pull away. He is not allowed to. He knows his place. He is his emperor's to will, his emperor's to touch. He cannot move.
A thumb brushes softly across the bottom of his eye. “You're crying.”
Xiao Chen's breaths hitch in panic. Does the emperor not like tears? He cannot imagine making his husband more angry than he already is now, he cannot imagine the pain that would ensue.
“I'm sorry, Your Highness. Please, please,” He begs nonsensically, with no idea of what he wants. Perhaps it does not matter. Perhaps Emperor Zhang wants only this, to see him beg under his mercy. He reaches up with both hands, broken as he is. “I will perform better for you, Emperor, please, I promise, I promise. I can be good for you, I can please you, my emperor. Please. ”
The emperor shoves at Xiao Chen, sitting up, away from him. He clutches his head in his hands, a wrangled cry ripping through his vocal cords, his shoulders trembling.
Xiao Chen slowly sits up after his emperor, out of sheer shock more than anything else. But the emperor says nothing. Xiao Chen's heart continues to rabbit frantically from a respectable distance. The emperor remains frozen and statue-like in his bowed form.
Xiao Chen ventures a cautious, “Your… Highness?”
“Why?” Zhang spits out, sounding peculiarly close to tears himself. “Why would you ask for a marriage, when it is abundantly clear that you do not want it?”
That's a strange question. “I do want it.”
“Liar,” Zhang says, but it sounds too tired to be angry, too choked to be anything but mournful.
Xiao Chen scrubs at his eyes, ridding himself of the tears that so triggered his emperor, muscling down the lump around his throat.
Emperor Hao always liked it when Xiao Chen allowed his vulnerabilities to show – which was easy for him, considering how he was usually scared enough of Emperor Hao for his tears to be real.
But his tears here seem to upset Emperor Zhang too much. It makes sense, when Xiao Chen thinks more closely on it. Emperor Zhang is a kind man, even since his training days – it makes sense that he would not like to see his bed mate in pain.
Xiao Chen will learn to hold his distress back for the emperor, if that's what he wants. He would learn everything that Emperor Zhang likes and more, if given enough time.
And what his emperor likes is for Xiao Chen to… want… this? But how can Xiao Chen want anything else but what is good for his country? His emperor? Xiao Chen wants to give everything to Emperor Zhang. Of course he does.
He tells the emperor as much. And his emperor raises his head, eyes red-rimmed. “So much so that you would let me take you without your consent?”
“Of course,” Xiao Chen nods earnestly. He is determined to make this better. He does not like seeing Zhang cry. “I am yours to have, Emperor Zhang. You must know that. Even though I am a poor excuse for a wedded companion, I will try my utmost to serve your Highness however your Highness wishes.”
Emperor Zhang's brows cross into each other, his lips trembling, eyes confusedly moist. “However I wish?”
“Yes, Your Highness, however you wish.” Boldly, Xiao Chen moves in closer. Some part of him calls to comfort a past comrade. “Emperor Hao only had me in certain ways, there will always be ways for Your Highness to have me that are different to him.” He smooths a hesitant hand down Zhang's broad back, as he once did when they'd first started out in true battle, when Zhang still hadn't quite grasped the cruelties of war. “Or you could have me in the same ways, if you liked. I would serve you with as much loyalty as I served the late Emperor Hao, I promise.”
To Xiao Chen’s continuous dismay and bemusement, his attempt at assuaging Zhang's jealousy towards Emperor Hao, is met with an increasingly more crestfallen expression.
“Why do you… why do you speak of sharing a bed as if it is some unavoidable duty that you must fulfill?” Zhang's voice sounds more and more horror-filled by the second, and Xiao Chen is desperate to figure out why.
“It is my duty.” Xiao Chen answers, matter-of-fact. “It has always been my duty. Or my penance, perhaps.”
“Penance?”
“For my parents,” Xiao Chen explains simply, but Zhang does not seem to understand, so he continues. “Perhaps only the older nobles are aware, though I'm sure the servants would have spoken of it – but my late parents, may our ancestors guide them, were traitors to the crown.”
“I have… heard of that. Before.” The emperor's mind is still ticking. He must still think too highly of Xiao Chen.
“The emperor bade that I served him, Your Highness. And so I did, even though he had just killed my parents before my eyes.” He cringes at the narration of his own cowardice. “But it was the correct thing to do, yes? To serve for my father's sins.” It was the easier thing to choose.
Realisation gradually dawns upon the emperor. Xiao Chen knows the image he used to cultivate for himself as a warrior on the fields. Smart, conniving, no-nonsense, strong.
He wonders how much of that image is cracking in Zhang's mind right now. He wonders how little Zhang must think of him now.
“No.” Zhang holds a hand over his mouth, eyes glistening. “You were always serving him? Even since…?”
“I was only able to train as a warrior because I impressed him with my services.” Xiao Chen decides he must bare himself completely. He does not want any revelations to catch his emperor off guard and enrage him further again. “It was never because I was actually skilled, I suppose, which you must despise me for. It was only because the emperor thought I would look handsome fighting for him.”
“You could not have been more than a boy.” Zhang's voice shakes with physical terror, choked with emotion.
“Oh, Zhang,” Xiao Chen sighs. “I thought you knew. I wouldn't have suggested this if I didn't think you already knew how dishonourable I truly am, I promise.” Zhang's breaths are getting heavier, louder. “I'm sorry that I am not who you thought I was. I'm sorry for being the shameful thing you have been made to wed.”
“Don't say that.” Zhang snaps, but he doesn't seem to be registering any of the words coming out of his mouth at all, with the way he swipes a frenetic hand through his hair. “Oh lords, what have I done?” He shakes his head, distraught. “What have I done.”
Xiao Chen winces. He knows acutely how it feels to be trapped in circumstances not by your own making. “You would not be confined to this, Zhang, I promise. It is not uncommon for emperors to take multiple lovers. I am only your concubine – you can always cast me aside whenever you wish. You will be wed to a beautiful woman, in the future. Your Empress, the mother of your children, who will be the love of your life–”
“You, Xue Xiao Chen.” Zhang's tears are spilling in free flow now. “I love you. I have only ever loved you. I wedded you as my husband and prince consort. I love you. Did you not know?”
Xiao Chen stares at Zhang, a little lost. He reaches only to wipe Zhang's face dry with his long sleeves. “You cannot regard me in that way, little tiger. I'm sorry. I am not made for such love.” Even just the word feels misplaced on Xiao Chen's less than worthy tongue.
Zhang catches his wrist. His eyes are tinged with sudden heat, teary as they are. “I should have killed that hound slower. I should have taken him apart. I should have made him suffer.”
“He would have been just as dead as he is now,” Xiao Chen says. “It does not matter.” He presses his chest himself against the emperor's side, suggestive. “Will you allow me to serve you now, Your Highness? I promise to make everything feel better.”
Sex is always a good way to bring someone's mood up. Xiao Chen would be glad to serve Zhang in that way, if that was what he wanted. He looks so sad.
Zhang looks at him, almost physically pained, but he pulls Xiao Chen into his arms, and leads him further into the bed. Xiao Chen tries to mouth at his emperor's neck, but Zhang pushes him back, hands absurdly gentle.
“You don't have to…” Zhang falters off. “Let us just lie together, alright? Just to sleep?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Xiao Chen positions his head against the crook of the emperor's neck instead. “Whatever you wish.”
The arm around his shoulders flexes, and Xiao Chen almost tenses with it, but the emperor only presses his lips to the crown of his head. “Thank you,” He murmurs quietly, and a long moment later, as Xiao Chen drifts off the cliffs of slumber, he hears the emperor whisper the tail end of an apology, and his last waking thought can only be a question – Why?
The next morning, the first thing the emperor asks when Xiao Chen wakes is if he wants to stay. Which is a strange thing to ask, considering Xiao Chen has nowhere to go.
“I would let you go.” Zhang says quietly, to the top of Xiao Chen's head, even as his fingers idly twirl around in his Xiao Chen's pristine locks. “I would make sure that you got to safety, and that you had a reasonably well life. If any part of you fears me at all, I would let you go.” He lets go of Xiao Chen's hair. “So I want you to think of yourself, and only yourself, when you answer me this: Do you fear me, Xue Xiao Chen?”
Xiao Chen thinks carefully. And then he brings his emperor's unoccupied hand to the left corner of his chest, so he knows that Xiao Chen's heart beats steady. “I don't fear you,” He says simply. “I know your strength and what you are capable of. I know your honour, and am learning to trust it as true. I cannot fear you.”
Zhang breathes out a relieved sigh. “And… do… do you love me?” His voice is hesitant on that last syllable.
Xiao Chen falters. He does not want to lie, not to Zhang, but he doesn't want to displease him either. “I'm not sure, Your Highness.” He peers up at the emperor apologetically. “I don't think I quite know what that means. I'm sorry.”
Zhang's expression flickers, but he cradles Xiao Chen close anyway. “That's alright, Xue.” His breath is warm against Xiao Chen's neck. “You don't have to apologise for anything. I, I should apologise.”
Xiao Chen flicks his neck up, stunned. “Whatever for?”
“For the world of pain that I have caused you until now. For how I treated you last night, for how I led you to think –” Zhang chokes off again. “I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?”
Xiao Chen turns away, leaning his cheek against his emperor's chest, savouring his warmth and indulgence. “It is not my place to offer forgiveness, Your Highness.”
“That's alright,” Zhang says, sounding resolute. “We'll work on it.”
Xiao Chen hums in agreement. He and Zhang Zhe Sheng work best when they were of one mind, even with their tenuous rivalry from before. Everything they worked on together never ended in a failure.
Whatever it is that the emperor wishes to achieve, they can manage it together. Xiao Chen is sure of it.
And so, Zhang Zhe Sheng starts bringing him things. Nothing extravagant, nothing over the top – just small, inconsequential things. He brings Xiao Chen a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots, his favourite flowers.
“I remember you looking at them fondly, once.” Zhang Zhe Sheng tucks a stem into Xiao Chen's hair, against his ear, smiling softly. “Saw them being sold at a market on a walk earlier today. They reminded me of you.”
Xiao Chen's brows furrow together. “Why?”
Zhang Zhe Sheng's expression melts entirely. “Because I love you, my husband.” He strokes the side of Xiao Chen's cheek. “This is love.”
Xiao Chen doesn't really understand it, but he accepts the flowers graciously. They are his favourite flowers.
Zhang Zhe Sheng brings him a great many things after that. History books, clay pottery, green tea – all things he knows Xiao Chen likes. Xiao Chen hadn't even realised he'd had that many things that he liked.
Then, Zhang Zhe Sheng starts giving him choices and calling him sweetly by his first name.
“Would you prefer the golden hairpins, Xiao Chen, or the silver ones?”
“Would you prefer the sweet tarts, Xiao Chen, or the red bean buns?”
“If you could go to anywhere in the world, Xiao Chen, where would you go?”
Xiao Chen had been hesitant to make a choice then, because who in the world would think to take anything but what their emperor bestowed upon them? But Zhang Zhe Sheng is persistent. He asks, and he asks, and he keeps asking, and eventually Xiao Chen makes his choices.
He likes the silver pins. Sweet tarts and red bean buns aren't his usual go-tos for dessert, but if he had to pick, sweet tarts would be his choice. He prefers the fluffy texture and colourful variety of fa gao.
He doesn't know where he would go, but he thinks he might enjoy some time in the valleys between Tian and their neighbouring ally nation, Yuan. The views there are scenic, and it is not too cold.
“Hm,” Zhang nods thoughtfully. “We should go there some time. The both of us.”
Xiao Chen squints at him, uncomprehending. “Why?”
Zhang smiles at him this time. “Because it would make you happy. Because I love you, Xue Xiao Chen.” He touches him on the shoulder, chaste and gentle. “This is love.”
After a meeting with the council, where Xiao Chen spends most of the time agreeing with Emperor Zhang, and whispering strategies in his ears that others cannot hear, one of the Lords comes up to him.
It is Lord Xu. “Always a way up for you, isn't there, Concubine Xue?” He leers.
Xiao Chen has weathered worse comments than that before, and is fully prepared to laugh it away gracefully, when all of sudden, there Emperor Zhang is by his side. He places a hand on Xiao Chen's shoulder, drawing him back behind him. His eyes are furious.
“He is my husband, and my most immediate right-hand. He will not take such manners from you, not from anybody.” His voice is loud as it is stern. Everyone is listening. “Address him as you would me, for we are wed and we are one. Am I clear?”
Lord Xu turns a violent shade of red.
“Am I clear, Lord Xu?”
Lord Xiu takes a deep bow behind his sleeves. “Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” And after prolonged eye contact, he bows shortly to Xiao Chen, muttering his apologies.
After the entirely mortifying ordeal, Xiao Chen tries to offer his apologies to the emperor for causing him dishonour, but Emperor Zhang raises a hand to silence him.
“I did not reprimand Lord Xu because I was offended. I reprimanded him because I did not like to see you so mistreated.” He picks up Xiao Chen’s empty hands and fills it with his. “And before you ask, I will tell you why. It is because I love you. I hate to see you in pain, and would do anything to relieve you of it, because I feel your pain as acutely as I do mine. I am only sorry that I failed to stand firm for you sooner.” He presses his lips to the back of Xiao Chen's palms, simple and chaste. “This is love.”
Xiao Chen stares at Zhang Zhe Sheng like he's grown a second head, but voices his thanks anyway.
Zhang Zhe Sheng shakes his head. “You do not have to thank me. I have already caused you more pain in this lifetime than I should have.”
“So have I, I think, if we're keeping score.” Xiao Chen slips his hands from Zhang’s grasp to smooth back a particularly annoying strand of hair peeking out against his husband's forehead.
“Ah, but you are not the one wearing the heavy huang guan, are you?” He says that now, and yet he is also the one who'd carefully asked Xiao Chen if he would be comfortable referring to Zhe Sheng just by his name, both in private and public.
And when Xiao Chen had asked why, he had responded with some asinine variety of this is love and In love, we are both equals. Xiao Chen hadn't really understood it, then, but he thinks he's starting to get the idea now.
Their first major argument comes by way of Zhang Zhe Sheng and his astronomical stubbornness. His head acts like a mule and his mind thinks only in squares.
“Zhang Zhe Sheng, my most esteemed lord husband, Great Emperor of Tian, I am begging you to see reason: You have to be prepared to find a wife.” Xiao Chen gestures emphatically at Zhang's stupid, unaffected face. “Without an heir, your reign will not be secure. All this effort to take the throne from Hao Jue Yi would go to waste in a matter of years.”
“No,” Zhang actually pouts. “I will not. Women are kind and wonderful, but I am not of that nature. They do not interest me like you do.” He crosses his arms, sulking like a literal child. Xiao Chen cannot believe this. “Besides, it would not be a waste. I am with you now, and we are happy. How can that be a waste?”
“Good lords above!” Xiao Chen throws his head heavenwards. “Save this nation from your utterly incurable bull-headedness.”
Zhang sits straighter in his seat. “You know why, right?”
Xiao Chen groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.
“It's because I love you.” Zhang says, like Xiao Chen doesn't already know where this is going. “You are the only man for me. I want no one else.” He opens his arms, beckoning Xiao Chen closer – not a command, just a plea. “I want to spend my days only with you.”
Xiao Chen rolls his eyes. “Sentiment.” He grumbles, even as he walks over to receive Zhang's embrace. “You always let it cloud your judgment.”
“No, my dear.” Zhang's arms wrap along Xiao Chen's waist, pulling him close as his forehead nuzzles against Xiao Chen's stomach. “My sentiment is my judgment, and you, you are the height of my clarity.” He looks up, chin against Xiao Chen's abdomen, eyes twinkling and impossibly warm. “This is love.”
Xiao Chen huffs. Ridiculous, ridiculous man. “Well, love doesn't solve the issue of your next heir, does it?” He cards his fingers idly through Zhang's messy, mid-length hair.
Zhang hums. “We could always adopt. Set up a home for the many orphans out there. Take care of them. Teach them to be little warriors or scholars, whichever suits them best. Find the ones most suited for rulership, and guide them for it. Our chosen heir would be unstoppable, armed with my strength and your wit.” He tilts his head for a while, thoughtful. “And it would be nice to have a family with you, I suppose.”
Xiao Chen's heart has never skipped a beat before in his life, so when it does what it does upon hearing Zhang's words, Xiao Chen almost thinks he's going insane.
“I do like that you're losing your temper with me, though.” Zhang grins up at Xiao Chen who is still furiously trying to hide the flush in his cheeks with a light cough. “Proves that you care.” Proves that you're not scared.
So they end up going with Zhang's orphanage idea. Of course, Xiao Chen is the one who arranges the practicalities of things, like setting up the foundation and individual caretakers for each child, but Zhang is the one who spends most of his time interacting with the children. Playing with them, teaching them.
He loves them. Xiao Chen understands. He would do anything for those rowdy band of brats too.
It is two full summers later when Xiao Chen finally makes his move. The tides have calmed down a bit, now that the public is assured that Xiao Chen isn’t a conniving villain out to rid them of their most beloved emperor. There are still dissenters of his position, of course, but they are not nearly as numerous as when he first started. Things are getting better.
It happens during one of their weekly sparring sessions, a quiet night. Zhang Zhe Sheng had tumbled to the ground when Xiao Chen hooked his ankles with a feint to the left. Xiao Chen laughs at him, a low chuckle, and holds out a hand to help him up.
Zhe Sheng sulks back, but takes his arm anyway. When he rises to his feet, the moon reaches her tendrils through windows overhead, casting sweet luminescence over his husband's well-cut figure, and he looks–
Ridiculous. Majestic. Childish.
Kind.
Xiao Chen leans in for a kiss.
Zhe Sheng gasps, eyes blowing wide, almost jerking back, but Xiao Chen holds him in place. One hand on the back of his neck. Their lips, inches apart, drift close enough that their breaths mingle in the nightly air. The mirrors, looking directly at one another, no stones to throw.
“This is love, Zhe Sheng,” Xiao Chen says quietly. “Trust me.” He presses his forehead against his mighty husband's. “I forgive you.” His breath ghosts against Zhe Sheng's lips. “I love you.”
The way Zhe Sheng's expression folds in on itself, the way he dissolves entirely in Xiao Chen's arms as if he's been waiting so, so very long for this – Xiao Chen savours every moment of it.
He has never known want like this, has never yearned so deeply to be moulded against another's soul. It must have been hard for Zhe Sheng to resist this for so long.
Xiao Chen can barely restrain himself now. He cups his husband's chin and drags him down so his husband has to bend down to meet his lips.
Their tongues weave into one another, desperate and longing, trading between them a dozen decades of quiet yearning.
Zhe Sheng has loved him a long time. Xiao Chen presses into him, pushes him back against the wooden walls of their training quarters, slips a thigh beneath his robes. Instinctively, his husband thrusts up against him.
Xiao Chen grins, light and vicious. “You like that?”
“Mmn,” Zhe Sheng is beyond words now. He is content to have Xiao Chen take the lead. He is content to have what Xiao Chen is willing to give.
What a beautiful, beautiful man. Xiao Chen would give him everything. He loves him.
Zhang Zhe Sheng is a good man, Xiao Chen decides, as he whisks Xiao Chen up into the night, bridal-style, towards their chambers. He relaxes his arms over the broad strength of his husband's shoulders as they walk.
He is the best emperor Tian will ever know, and he will have the longest reign out of all his predecessors. Xiao Chen will make sure of it.
For now, though, Xiao Chen will let Zhe Sheng throw him face first onto their beds with open laughter. (It is a different bed now. Once Zhe Sheng heard about the ghosts that so haunted Xiao Chen in the emperor's chambers, he'd spared no time dismantling it, ordering for a new one to be built, with foreign designs and configurations, void of old reminders.)
He will let Zhe Sheng cover his slighter frame with his muscular body, he will let Zhe Sheng mouth along his jaw, his neck, his back. He will let Zhe Sheng maneuver him however he likes, let him have the fun they should have had on their wedding night. Not because he has to, not because this is what Zhe Sheng wants, but because this is what Xiao Chen wants. Because this is what they both want, untainted by spectres of the past.
This is love. Zhe Sheng's generous tongue meets his blossom, and Xiao Chen arches into it with a breathy, happy whine. He understands now.
This is love. Xiao Chen will be loyal to Zhe Sheng, now and forevermore, just as Zhe Sheng will be to him. There is no other option for them, and there never has to be.
“I love you, Zhe Sheng,” Xiao Chen moans into the sheets, just in case Zhe Sheng doesn't know. He's been telling him this so many times, but only now, Xiao Chen understands.
Zhe Sheng mouths along the cleft of Xiao Chen's luscious peaches, breathing hot against his skin. “I love you too, Xiao Chen.” He presses his lips firmly against the thin scars, worn from battle, coiling up Xiao Chen's back. “I love you.” His hands are warm as they reach under Xiao Chen to roam along his chest, pinching lightly once they reach the tips of his rosebuds.
Xiao Chen makes a shuddering noise. He had no idea things could feel like this.
Zhe Sheng engulfs Xiao Chen’s body entirely, his sturdy front to Xiao Chen's elegantly arched back. He nibbles at Xiao Chen's right ear, whispering, “Is this comfortable for you?”
Xiao Chen laughs again, and pats up blindly at his husband's cheeks with one hand. “Yes, my little tiger.” He pulls Zhe Sheng down to invite another satisfying kiss. “I am comfortable.”
Zhe Sheng obliges his desires enthusiastically, tilting his neck down to kiss Xiao Chen's lips until they are rosy and red, panting with need and want. Zhe Sheng gives him what he needs. His hands slips down, down, down and down–
and he strokes. Xiao Chen gasps, startled. No one has ever stroked him before.
He whimpers, he keens, he writhes – and it is all with pleasure, all with the same recurring phrase: I love you, I love you, I love you. He spills into Zhe Sheng's hands with a blessed cry.
Zhe Sheng's triumphant, smug face is the first thing Xiao Chen's mind registers as his post-climax high ebbs away.
“That good, huh?”
Xiao Chen huffs, turning away from him, a little petulant. “Incorrigible,” He mutters.
Zhe Sheng, with his arms boxing Xiao Chen safe against the bed, moves his annoyingly handsome face over to Xiao Chen's side. He grins, lines crinkling at the sides of his eyes. “Yet still, you love me.”
“Mm.” Xiao Chen smooths his cheeks against the wondrously soft sheets. It feels good now. Safe. “Know what would make me love you even more, though?”
Zhe Sheng quirks a brow and leans down to listen.
Xiao Chen traces his reddened lips with his own thumb, flicking his eyes slyly at his husband from under his lashes. “If your stem parched my thirst.”
Zhe Sheng jumps, all greedy and wild-like as he clambers to the front of the bed, enthusiastic as can be. Xiao Chen gives Zhe Sheng's tip light, teasing flicks at first, until he is arching with pleasure and pleading for Xiao Chen to please, take him deeper, please. Xiao Chen flutters his lashes slowly up at him in a way he knows will drive Zhe Sheng mad, and then swallows him all the way down to his hilt without choking, like it's the easiest thing in the world. It is the easiest thing in the world.
Zhe Sheng moans, and it is music to Xiao Chen's burning ears. His hands rest gently on Xiao Chen's head, neither pushing nor pulling. He lets Xiao Chen set the pace, lets him hold his waist down with one hand, lets him do whatever he wants, and oh, does Xiao Chen want. He smirks lazily around Zhe Sheng's now hardened cock, slapping it against his own cheeks, before taking it in his mouth once more.
Zhe Sheng groans, low and primal. They are happy.
This is how the rest of the night will be, Xiao Chen decides. This is how the rest of their days will pass. He will be Zhe Sheng's and Zhe Sheng will be his.
Judging by how quickly Zhe Sheng spills in his mouth, Xiao Chen has pretty good authority to be sure that he feels the same way. Xiao Chen drinks him in with a smug look on his face. Zhe Sheng smiles back down at him, a little loopy as he extricates himself from Xiao Chen to return with a cool, wet cloth.
Xiao Chen raises a bemused brow at him. Zhe Sheng's face is unbearably soft as he approaches Xiao Chen's sprawled figure.
“Let me,” He whispers. He wipes Xiao Chen cleanly, reverently, tenderly.
Xiao Chen closes his eyes and runs a hand through his husband's tangled locks. It is his most favourite thing to touch these days. Comforting.
His husband leans down to peck him lightly on either side of his cheeks. He is loved. They are happy. That is more than he could have ever wished for.