Time: Winter, Jinghe Year One, night
Location: Palace of Heavenly Purity
After finishing the last memorial on the canal reforms, Gu Lian could no longer keep himself upright and collapsed over the wide dragon desk, asleep. Candlelight leapt and trembled, painting his weary yet still handsome profile; long lashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, and the sharp lines he wore by day softened in sleep.
Ai Miao finished his own papers and slipped quietly to his side. The brazier burned bright, popping occasionally, which only deepened the hush. He watched Gu Lian's unguarded face and listened to the even, long breaths. The young emperor who commanded the court with sweeping authority now showed a rare, almost fragile calm.
Ai Miao's heart felt as if the softest feather had brushed it. He bent over with movements so gentle it seemed he might disturb a fragile dream. Their distance closed inch by inch; he could clearly see the curve of Gu Lian's nose and feel the warm breath against his cheek.
His gaze finally fell on Gu Lian's slightly pressed lips—lips that could issue irrefragable edicts in court and, in private, whisper searing words. He stared at that sleeping face; his breath faltered, the tight line of his mouth betraying the inner struggle. In the end, feeling edged out reason by the smallest margin.
He moved—swift, light—like a snowflake settling, and pressed a kiss that lasted the instant before parting to those cool lips. Softer than he had imagined.
Having done it, he straightened as if he had committed sacrilege. His heart sped uncontrollably, heat creeping up his ears. He glanced at Gu Lian—still apparently asleep—and let out a barely audible breath.
Careful, he fetched the folded sable cloak nearby and draped it over Gu Lian's shoulders, tucking the edges to keep out the cold.
Just as he prepared to return to his seat, a warm hand seized his wrist.
Ai Miao froze.
Gu Lian, who should have been asleep, had opened his eyes. There was not a trace of drowsiness—only a bright, triumphant smile as he stared at him without blinking.
"Lord Wen'an…" Gu Lian's voice was husky with waking, but his fingers gripped Ai Miao's wrist firmly and pulled him slightly closer; his tone brimmed with playful delight, "My Ai Miao, what were you just doing to me?"
Ai Miao's face flamed crimson, his neck dyed the same. He tried to pull away, but the hold tightened. Avoiding that burning gaze, he forced his voice steady: "Your Majesty… pretending to sleep?"
"If I had not pretended," Gu Lian laughed softly, the other hand tracing Ai Miao's heated earlobe, "how would I have known that my strategist could be so… unable to restrain himself?" He tugged with purpose, drawing the stunned Ai Miao fully into his embrace, forehead to forehead, breaths mingling. His voice dropped, low and tempting:
"Stealing fragrance and jade—surely one should not quit at a taste." "Now, it is mine to reclaim."
Before the sentence left him, he bent and claimed that softness he had long desired—deep, lingering, turning the night's quiet and quickened pulse into a warm, heady current. Outside, snow fell soundlessly. Inside, candlelight reddened the shadows; spring seemed to bloom within the room.
Gu Lian's kiss differed from Ai Miao's earlier touch; it was decisive and fierce with burning heat, as if reclaiming, with interest, that small bold trespass. Ai Miao felt a hum in his skull; all reason and composure collapsed under that kiss. He was forced to tilt his head back; the clear eyes he always kept grew fogged and broke.
At first, mortified at being found out, he tried to retreat, but Gu Lian's arm locked him in place—no escape. Gradually that commanding kiss softened into tender rubbing, full of endless care and cherishing, soothing his startled nerves. Ai Miao's taut body relaxed and began, clumsily and tentatively, to respond.
That faint reply was like a spark on dry wood—it set Gu Lian's deeper desire alight. No one could say how long it lasted. Only when Ai Miao, short of air, pressed weakly against his chest did Gu Lian reluctantly pull back; their foreheads remained touching, breaths mingled and slightly ragged.
"Your Majesty… you are… very calculating." Ai Miao's voice trembled, softer than usual, shaded with post-kiss languor.
Gu Lian chuckled, his fingertip brushing Ai Miao's reddening lips, eyes burning. "Not as skillful as you, Ai Miao—knowing exactly how to take advantage of an opening." He emphasized the last words, pleased to watch the color return to Ai Miao's cheeks.
"I only… saw Your Majesty was tired," Ai Miao tried to retrieve his official composure, seeking a plausible explanation.
"Oh?" Gu Lian raised an eyebrow, teasing. "So Lord Wen'an's way of tending the sovereign is… unique." He looped an arm about Ai Miao's waist and led him to the soft couch in the warm chamber, sitting beside him and still refusing to let go.
"Then how does Your Majesty intend to… punish my trespass?" Ai Miao lowered his lashes, long lashes trembling, accepting that tonight could not be skirted and tossing the question back.
Gu Lian adored this rare show of weakness. He leaned to Ai Miao's ear, voice low, breath grazing the sensitive shell: "Punishment… let me think." He pretended to ponder. When Ai Miao tensed, he smiled slowly. "I'll punish you by forbidding you to steal kisses any longer. Instead, do it openly—whenever you please."
Ai Miao looked up, stunned, meeting Gu Lian's smile-filled, affectionate eyes.
"Well? Do you accept this punishment, Lord Wen'an?" Gu Lian squeezed his fingertips.
A warm current flooded Ai Miao's chest; remaining embarrassment dissolved before such indulgence. He inclined his head slightly; his voice was low but clear: "I… accept punishment."
Gu Lian's satisfied smile deepened as he drew Ai Miao back into his arms. His chin rested lightly on Ai Miao's crown. They spoke no more, savoring the quiet intimacy stolen from the snowy night.
"When you're tired," Gu Lian murmured above him, voice soft but certain, "just rest in the palace. No need to come and go; I won't have to invent excuses to see you."
Ai Miao nestled into that warmth, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling this singular favor, and gently closed his eyes. "Mm."
The wind and snow continued outside but could no longer intrude on the springlike warmth in the room. For Gu Lian, this caught kiss brought greater satisfaction than any victory in statecraft.
On the couch they lay entwined. Gu Lian's hand stroked Ai Miao's back in slow, absent taps; even through heavy winter garments he could feel the lean spine beneath.
"About the canal reform you reviewed earlier—are there parts that need amendment?" Gu Lian asked suddenly, voice still lazy as if speaking casually.
Ai Miao shifted as if to look up but was pressed down gently. "Speak plainly," Gu Lian said. "I'm listening."
Ai Miao ceased struggling, found a more comfortable angle, and after a brief thought began: "Rerouting grain along the Huai River saves three hundred li, but the riverbanks are controlled by powerful clans with private ports and frequent shipping. They may obstruct the plan. I recommend sending capable agents with Your Majesty's sealed orders to conduct overt and covert inspections, clarify interests, and employ appeasement or deterrence as needed. Only then can the reform proceed smoothly."
His voice was steady, his reasoning clear—an entirely different man from a moment ago. Only the lingering rosiness at his ear betrayed the earlier intimacy.
Gu Lian listened, a smile tugging at his mouth. His strategist—no matter the circumstance—kept his mind on the state. "Approved. Let the Privy Council handle it; you choose the personnel." He idly twined a strand of Ai Miao's ink-black hair between his fingers. "And?"
"There are further points…" Ai Miao continued, outlining details of administration and livelihood; Gu Lian assented to each.
When the affairs were settled, the room quieted again. The brazier popped, sending a single spark.
"Ai Miao," Gu Lian called softly.
"I'm here."
"Nothing." Gu Lian chuckled, nuzzling his chin against Ai Miao's hair. "I just think—this is very nice."
This is very nice. When exhausted from poring over memorials, he only had to look up to see that calm silhouette in lamplight; when beleaguered by state affairs, he only had to turn to receive incisive counsel; when loneliness brushed him on a snowy night, he could reach out and draw Ai Miao into his arms—and even catch that rare, lover-like bashfulness.
A vast empire is heavy; the emperor's path is solitary. But with this person at his side, everything seemed bearable—indeed, sweet.
Ai Miao said nothing. He adjusted his posture in Gu Lian's arms and slipped his hand around that lean waist. The silent gesture spoke louder than a thousand words.
Gu Lian's heart stirred; he was about to speak when he noticed Ai Miao's breathing lengthen and even—Ai Miao had fallen asleep against him. Of course. By day he managed military and national affairs at the Privy Council; by night he accompanied the sovereign and assisted with reforms—his reserves spent. The emotional whirl of theft and being caught had drained him further.
Gu Lian bent to study Ai Miao's peaceful face, tenderness welling to the point of overflowing. He adjusted them so Ai Miao could sleep more comfortably, then drew a soft brocade quilt over both of them and tucked it in carefully.
He abandoned the notion of carrying him back to the bedchamber—afraid the slightest stir might wake him.
Let it be, Gu Lian thought. Perhaps emperors skip morning court not because beauty undermines the realm, but because the warmth in one's arms is too hard to relinquish.
He softly extinguished the nearest candle, leaving only a distant, amber palace lamp. In the snow-lit night it kept watch over the couch—and the peace and tenderness upon it.