Ai Miao had noticed—lately, Gu Lian had become unusually restrained in matters of intimacy.
In the past, whenever he stayed overnight at the palace, Gu Lian would always carry a youthful urgency, as if trying to make up for every moment of separation. But in the past two months, even in moments of closeness, Gu Lian's movements had slowed—deliberately, as if suppressing something. Even when Ai Miao responded with rare initiative, Gu Lian would stop, kiss him gently, straighten his robe, and whisper hoarsely, "…Sleep."
Once or twice could be chalked up to concern for his workload. But as it happened again and again, Ai Miao couldn't help but grow suspicious.
That night, after bathing, Ai Miao sat at the edge of the couch in a plain white robe, drying his damp hair. Gu Lian walked over and, without a word, took the towel from his hands and began to dry it for him—his movements gentle.
The candlelight was warm. Ai Miao's hair carried the faint scent of soapberry, blended with the cool ink-like fragrance unique to him. It lingered at Gu Lian's nose, soft and persistent. His fingers slipped through the cool, smooth strands, but his gaze drifted—to the slightly open collar, where a pale, slender collarbone peeked through.
Gu Lian's throat bobbed almost imperceptibly. His hands slowed.
Ai Miao, ever perceptive, noticed the subtle shift in breath, the sudden tension in the body behind him. He lowered his hand, turned, and looked up at Gu Lian. His ink-dark eyes, clear under candlelight, held quiet inquiry. "Your Majesty?"
Gu Lian froze. He looked away, set the towel aside, and replied, voice tight, "…What is it?"
"Have I… done something wrong lately?" Ai Miao asked softly. His tone was calm, but the question was direct, unavoidable.
Gu Lian blinked. "What makes you say that?"
Ai Miao's gaze stayed on his face, missing nothing. "Your Majesty seems… unwilling to touch me."
A flicker of panic crossed Gu Lian's face, quickly replaced by helplessness. He sighed, sat beside Ai Miao, and pulled him into his arms, resting his chin on his head. "Nonsense."
"Then why…" Ai Miao tilted his head slightly, his breath brushing Gu Lian's jaw.
Gu Lian was silent for a moment. Then he tightened his hold and spoke low:
"A few days ago… I was reading confidential archives from the Shadow Guard. There were records from the previous dynasty—a minister who grew too close to the emperor, condemned by historians as 'bewitching the sovereign's heart.' Privately… they called him 'a seducer.'" His voice carried restrained pain, and a hint of quiet grievance. "I don't want… I don't want you to bear even a trace of that kind of stain. Not because of me."
Ai Miao froze. He hadn't expected this.
So that was it. His emperor—in his own clumsy way—had been trying to protect his reputation, shielding him from every arrow, seen and unseen.
His heart softened, aching. He raised a hand, gently cupped Gu Lian's cheek, and made him look at him.
"Your Majesty," his voice was soft, but unwavering. "I don't care if history cuts like a blade. I don't care what others say. I care only for you." His fingers brushed the crease between Gu Lian's brows. "If fear of gossip makes us hide even our truest feelings—then isn't the sovereign's heart too easily swayed by the world?"
He straightened slightly and kissed Gu Lian. Not a fleeting touch—but a kiss full of comfort, and undeniable tenderness. He traced the shape of his lips slowly, deliberately.
Gu Lian's body stiffened at first. Then, under that familiar cool scent and rare initiative, the taut string of restraint snapped. He let out a low sound and kissed back—deeply, urgently, with the fervor of something lost and found.
When they finally parted, breathless, Ai Miao's eyes were rimmed red, gaze shimmering. He looked at Gu Lian and whispered:
"If Your Majesty restrains yourself because of me—then you've truly fallen into their trap. They never feared seduction. They feared… our unity."
Gu Lian stared into eyes full of trust and devotion, and the last shadow of doubt vanished. He laughed quietly, lifted Ai Miao into his arms, and carried him toward the dragon bed.
"I was wrong," he murmured at his ear, voice returning to its usual mix of dominance and warmth. "My Ai Miao—of course I should be the one to cherish you. Why should I care what others think?"
That night, the candlelight in the Palace of Heavenly Purity burned long into the hours. Very long.
Once doubt dissolved, it melted like spring ice—leaving only a gentle, flowing warmth.
Gu Lian no longer held himself back. The emotions he had bottled up for months—longing, worry, and overwhelming love—broke like a flood, tender yet unstoppable, drowning Ai Miao completely.
Ai Miao could feel it clearly—this time, Gu Lian was different. Gone was the youthful impatience. In its place was the steadiness and control of a mature sovereign. Yet in every gesture, there was a reverent care—as if holding something once lost and now regained.
His kisses were no longer acts of conquest, but explorations, comforts. They traced Ai Miao's furrowed brow, his trembling lashes, and finally landed on lips that once spoke cold strategy—now spilling only soft, broken whimpers. Gu Lian's fingertips sparked like fire, igniting shivers wherever they passed. Yet when Ai Miao tensed, he slowed—waiting, patiently, for him to yield.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao's voice shattered, his ink-dark eyes glazed with tears. The calm, calculating man of court was undone—clinging helplessly to the arms that held him.
"I'm here." Gu Lian's low reply brushed his ear, steady and grounding. He gave Ai Miao no room to retreat, no space to think—only a slow, irresistible force that claimed what was his.
Ai Miao tilted his head back, his fragile throat bobbing in the candlelight. All sound caught in his throat, reduced to ragged breaths. He felt like a boat tossed in a storm—and Gu Lian was the anchor. Guiding him. Controlling him. Leading him toward a trembling, unknown shore.
When the tide finally ebbed, Ai Miao lay limp in Gu Lian's arms, too spent to move even a finger. Gu Lian still held him close, one hand stroking his damp back—a gesture of comfort, and quiet possession.
"From now on…" Gu Lian's voice was hoarse, sated, murmuring against his hair, "no more wild guesses."
Ai Miao, eyes closed in exhaustion, let his lips curve faintly. His voice was barely a whisper: "…It was Your Majesty who overthought first."
Gu Lian chuckled, his chest vibrating gently. He tightened his embrace. "Yes, yes. My fault." Then he paused, and his tone grew solemn. "But remember this, Ai Miao—no matter what others say, to me, you are my most precious treasure. The place I willingly lose myself—my haven of tenderness."
Ai Miao didn't open his eyes. He simply buried his face deeper into the warmth of Gu Lian's neck and nuzzled softly.
In that moment, the empire, the court, the world—all faded. Only their mingled breaths remained, and the quiet space between them, filled with trust and love, unreserved.
The candle burned low, its wax slipping silently down the stem, illuminating the entwined figures on the bed—close, inseparable, with no barriers left between them.
The next morning, Ai Miao woke at his usual hour—his body clock precise as ever. Just as he was about to rise, the arm around his waist tightened, pulling him back into a warm embrace.
"Morning court…" Ai Miao murmured helplessly, his voice still husky from sleep.
"I've had it delayed by an hour." Gu Lian, eyes still closed, nuzzled into the crook of his neck. His tone was lazy, but left no room for argument. "Stay with me a little longer."
Only then did Ai Miao notice the sky outside was still dark. The bedchamber was unusually quiet— Even the attendants who usually waited outside had made no sound.
He understood. Gu Lian had arranged it all in advance.
So they lay there, quietly entwined. Morning light gradually filtered through the lattice windows, Casting soft patches of gold across the canopy.
Gu Lian's fingers idly played with Ai Miao's ink-dark hair, scattered across the pillow. Then he spoke, voice low:
"Last night… did it still hurt?"
Ai Miao's ears warmed. He turned his gaze away. "Your Majesty… has improved quite a bit."
The words carried a hint of teasing, But Gu Lian heard the acceptance— And the indulgence—beneath it.
He chuckled, Chest vibrating with quiet satisfaction. "So from now on, I needn't 'restrain' myself anymore?"
Ai Miao didn't answer. He simply reached out, And gently embraced him in return.
That silent gesture spoke louder than any reply.
The last trace of uncertainty in Gu Lian's heart vanished, Leaving only warmth.
He knew— His Ai Miao, His strategist, His beloved—
Had finally opened every door to him. Even the ones no one else had ever seen— The softest, most guarded corners of his heart.
An hour later, in the Hall of Golden Radiance.
Gu Lian sat upon the dragon throne, expression solemn, listening to the ministers' reports. When a few elder officials once again quarreled over the matter of imperial exam reforms, His gaze shifted— To Ai Miao, standing quietly to the side.
Today, Ai Miao wore his usual cool-toned court robes, his demeanor composed. But Gu Lian noticed the faint trace of fatigue at the corner of his eyes, And the way he stood just a little straighter than usual— A subtle effort to mask a soreness that could not be spoken aloud.
Thinking of the "unrestrained" night before, Gu Lian's lips curved ever so slightly, A quiet satisfaction blooming in his chest.
"This matter has already been thoroughly considered by Lord Wen'an," Gu Lian said, voice steady and decisive. "We shall proceed as agreed in yesterday's council. He will oversee it in full."
He gave no room for further debate. His gaze swept across the court— A silent declaration: This man, I protect.
Ai Miao stepped forward to receive the decree. As he lowered his gaze, He and Gu Lian exchanged a glance— Silent, knowing.
After court, Gu Lian deliberately slowed his pace to walk beside Ai Miao.
"Still holding up?" He asked softly, concern undisguised.
Ai Miao maintained his formal composure, But the tips of his ears flushed faintly. "Your Majesty… mind your words."
Gu Lian laughed quietly. When no one was looking, His fingers brushed beneath Ai Miao's sleeve— A fleeting touch.
"Tonight, I'll be reviewing memorials. I'll need you beside me."
It was not a request. It was a gentle, possessive invitation.
Ai Miao did not refuse. He simply nodded.
Sunlight spilled across the long palace corridor, Stretching their shadows— Tangled together, inseparable.
The road ahead might still hold storms, But in this moment, They had each other. And that trust, that love, Was enough to weather any cold.
That night, Ai Miao came as promised to the imperial study.
Gu Lian was buried in memorials. When he heard footsteps, he looked up, Set down his red brush, And reached out instinctively.
Ai Miao placed his cool hand in Gu Lian's palm, Letting himself be pulled to the brocade stool beside him.
"Military report from the northern border," Gu Lian said, pushing a document toward him. "Take a look."
They sat side by side beneath the lamplight, As they had on countless nights before. But tonight, the air between them carried a different kind of intimacy.
As Gu Lian reviewed documents, His arm would occasionally brush against Ai Miao's. As Ai Miao explained policy, Gu Lian's gaze would drift— To the softened lines of his face under the light.
Midway through, Ai Miao frowned slightly, Adjusting his posture with subtle care.
Gu Lian noticed immediately. He set down his brush. "Are you uncomfortable?"
Ai Miao lowered his gaze, Long lashes casting shadows. "It's nothing."
Gu Lian didn't accept that. He pulled him into his arms, Placed a warm palm on his lower back. "Here?"
Ai Miao stiffened, Then nodded faintly.
"My fault," Gu Lian murmured, But his hands moved gently, Massaging with practiced ease.
Years of martial training had made his touch precise. The pressure was just right.
Ai Miao, tense at first, Gradually relaxed under the soothing rhythm. He even leaned into the embrace without thinking.
Gu Lian felt that rare dependence, And his heart softened completely.
He bent down, Kissed the crown of Ai Miao's head. "If you're ever in pain, Tell me."
Ai Miao closed his eyes, And gave a quiet "Mm."
In that moment, He was not Lord Wen'an, the strategist. He was simply a man, Resting in the arms of the one he loved.
Just then, a palace attendant quietly brought in supper—two bowls of steaming rock sugar bird's nest.
Gu Lian picked up one bowl, scooped a spoonful, blew it gently to cool, and held it to Ai Miao's lips. "Try it."
Ai Miao hesitated. Such intimacy was acceptable in moments of passion, But here, in the brightly lit imperial study, It made his ears flush red.
After a brief pause, he opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful.
The sweetness melted on his tongue— And seeped quietly into his heart.
"Is it sweet?" Gu Lian asked, gaze intent.
Ai Miao lowered his eyes and nodded lightly.
Gu Lian chuckled, Took a spoonful from the same bowl, And tasted it himself. "It is sweet."
One bowl of dessert, shared between them— One spoonful at a time, Stretching into half an hour.
Gu Lian would occasionally lean in, Brushing away nonexistent traces from Ai Miao's lips with his fingertips, Drawing quiet waves of indulgence and helplessness in those ink-dark eyes.
When the attendants came to clear the table, They saw the emperor reviewing memorials, And Lord Wen'an quietly reading beside him— As if everything were as usual.
Only the two empty porcelain bowls bore silent witness To the tenderness that had just passed between them.
Late into the night, Gu Lian set down the final memorial and rubbed his brow.
Ai Miao rose to take his leave.
"Don't go." Gu Lian caught his hand. "Stay here tonight."
This time, it wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Ai Miao looked into his eyes, Saw the quiet hope there, And nodded.
On the dragon bed, Gu Lian embraced Ai Miao from behind, Encircling him completely.
The posture was possessive— But it gave Ai Miao a rare sense of safety.
"Sleep," Gu Lian whispered at his ear. "I'll wake you in the morning."
Ai Miao adjusted into a comfortable position within his arms, And soon drifted into sleep.
For the first time in years, He slept soundly on unfamiliar bedding.
Gu Lian listened to the steady rhythm of his breath, And closed his eyes in quiet contentment.
In that moment, The vast empire rested in his arms.
Before dawn, Ai Miao woke at his usual hour. Just as he moved to rise, The arm around his waist tightened again.
"It's still early." Gu Lian's sleepy voice came from behind, Warm breath brushing his ear.
Ai Miao sighed. "Your Majesty, it's time to prepare for morning court."
Gu Lian reluctantly loosened his hold, But still twirled a strand of Ai Miao's hair between his fingers. "Just fifteen more minutes."
In that quarter hour, His fingers drifted from hair to collar, Meticulously straightening a robe that was already perfectly neat— Slow, almost teasing, Full of quiet affection.
"Will you join me again tonight to review memorials?" Gu Lian asked softly.
Ai Miao lowered his gaze. "If Your Majesty requires."
"Not require," Gu Lian corrected. "I want."
Outside, the faint sounds of attendants preparing for the day began to stir. Gu Lian finally let go, But as Ai Miao rose, He gently squeezed his hand. "After court, come have breakfast with me."
After morning court, Gu Lian waited in the side hall. The table was set with light dishes— All of Ai Miao's favorites.
"Sit." Gu Lian personally served him a bowl of polished rice porridge. "I asked the physician. Your digestion is weak. You should eat something warm in the morning."
Ai Miao looked at the bowl of pearly white porridge, And felt a quiet stir in his chest.
He had been frail since childhood. Even he barely paid attention to such details— But Gu Lian remembered them all.
During the meal, Gu Lian occasionally picked dishes for him, So naturally it felt like he'd done it a thousand times.
When Ai Miao reached for a distant dish, Gu Lian had already placed it in his bowl.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao couldn't help but speak.
"Mm?" Gu Lian looked up, eyes gentle.
Ai Miao lowered his gaze. "I can serve myself."
Gu Lian smiled. "I want to."
The breakfast passed quietly, But warmly.
Sunlight streamed through the carved window lattice, Flowing gently between them.
That afternoon, Several senior ministers gathered in the imperial study to discuss border trade.
The Minister of Revenue and the Minister of War clashed over their views.
Gu Lian turned to Ai Miao, who had remained silent. "What does Lord Wen'an think?"
Ai Miao stepped forward, Calmly analyzing both sides, Weighing pros and cons, And finally offering a compromise— One that balanced national revenue with border stability.
As he spoke, Gu Lian's gaze never left him, Full of open admiration.
When Ai Miao made a particularly sharp point, Gu Lian tapped his fingers lightly on the desk— His habitual gesture of approval.
The elder ministers exchanged subtle glances. The emperor's trust in Lord Wen'an… Was deeper than they had imagined.
When the meeting ended, As the officials prepared to leave, Gu Lian called out.
"Stay, Ai Qing." He pointed to the stack of memorials. "These proposals on the new reforms— I need you to review them with me."
Once the others had gone, Gu Lian walked over, Took Ai Miao's hand. "You've been standing a long time. Are you tired?"
Ai Miao sighed. "Your Majesty, I'm not that delicate."
"In my eyes, you can be." Gu Lian lifted his hand, Gently massaging his knuckles. "You spoke well today. Even those old stubborn men were convinced."
Ai Miao watched him, Felt the warmth in his chest. He knew— To this emperor, He was not just a minister. He was a cherished companion.
That night, Ai Miao came again to the study.
Gu Lian was reading urgent reports from the border. When Ai Miao arrived, He handed him a memorial. "Take a look."
They sat side by side beneath the lamplight. Gu Lian's arm naturally wrapped around Ai Miao's waist, Pulling him closer.
The gesture was overly intimate— But it made the tedious work of reviewing documents feel warm.
As Ai Miao focused, Gu Lian's gaze drifted from the text To the softened lines of his face.
He leaned in, Placed a kiss on Ai Miao's cheek.
Ai Miao's hand paused, Ink blooming on the page.
"Your Majesty…" He turned, helpless.
Gu Lian laughed, Wiped the ink away. "Continue."
But moments later, Another kiss landed on the back of his neck.
This time, Ai Miao set down his brush. "If Your Majesty has no mind for state affairs…"
"Who says I don't?" Gu Lian pulled him into his arms. "I'm handling the most important matter of all."
He kissed the lips that usually spoke calm strategy, Silencing all protest.
Memorials scattered across the floor. In that moment, The emperor wanted only to tend to his most precious treasure.
The candle burned low, Its flame flickering between kisses.
Gu Lian held Ai Miao, now asleep, Brushing damp hair from his forehead.
His heart was full— Peaceful in a way he had never known.
He had once believed that a ruler must restrain himself, That a lover must let go. But he had forgotten— For someone like Ai Miao, proud and perceptive, The greatest wound was the distance born of "good intentions."
True care was never about pushing someone away, Or hiding them behind walls of protection. It was about holding their hand— Through storm and sun— And standing side by side.
His restraint had been his armor— But it had also been a blade.
Ai Miao's honesty had gently removed that armor, Allowing their hearts to meet without barrier.
Gu Lian bent down, Placed a solemn kiss on Ai Miao's forehead.
From this day forward, In court, they were ruler and minister— Allies in governance.
Within the palace, They were simply Gu Lian and Ai Miao— Each other's light, Each other's home.
To meet truth with truth, To break down walls with sincerity— That was their way of loving.
Unrestrained.