Time: Late autumn, early winter of the first year of Jinghe
Setting: Bathhouse, Wen'an Residence (Ai Miao's private estate)
After finishing the last memorial, Gu Lian looked up to find the night already deep. He recalled Ai Miao mentioning earlier that day how his residence had diverted fresh spring water to build a bathhouse. On a whim, Gu Lian left behind his ceremonial escort, bringing only his personal attendant, and quietly made his way to the Wen'an Residence.
The steward of the estate was startled to see the emperor arrive unannounced and rushed to send word, but Gu Lian waved him off. Guided by the faint steam and the subtle scent of herbs, he walked straight toward the bathhouse in the rear courtyard.
Pushing open the half-closed sandalwood door, a wave of warm, moist air greeted him— carrying the crisp scent of pine and unfamiliar herbs, gently dispelling the chill of the autumn night. The bathhouse was softly lit, not brightly illuminated—only a few palace lanterns glowed in the corners, casting a hazy light.
Through the rising steam, Gu Lian saw him.
Ai Miao sat with his back to the door, lazily reclining against the edge of the white jade pool. His ink-black hair spilled down, damp and clinging to his smooth back, making his pale skin—rarely touched by sunlight—appear even more striking. Gentle ripples lapped around him, and the soft light traced the contours of his slender but not fragile shoulders. His head tilted slightly, eyes closed, completely immersed in the warmth and ease of the spring. The sharp, composed gaze he wore in court was hidden now; his long lashes held tiny droplets of water, trembling faintly with each breath. He had shed the calm restraint of the court, revealing a rare, unguarded softness.
Gu Lian stepped lightly to the edge of the pool, not disturbing him at first. He looked down and saw several calming herbs floating in the water— a familiar prescription from the Imperial Medical Bureau. It seemed his strategist not only labored over state affairs, but also knew how to care for his own weary body.
Perhaps his gaze lingered too long— Ai Miao suddenly opened his eyes. Seeing Gu Lian smiling at the edge of the pool, a rare flicker of panic crossed his face. He instinctively tried to sink deeper into the water, then thought better of it, his body stiffening.
"Y-Your Majesty?" His voice was husky from the bath, tinged with languid warmth—so different from usual. "What brings you here?"
Gu Lian crouched down, amused by the flush at Ai Miao's ears. He reached out to stir the warm water and smiled. "I heard your estate has fine spring water. I came to enjoy it." His gaze lingered on Ai Miao's steam-flushed cheeks and neck, his eyes darkening. "It seems my Lord Wen'an knows how to indulge himself."
Ai Miao turned his face away, slightly uneasy. "It's merely to ease fatigue. If Your Majesty wishes to try, I shall—"
"No need." Gu Lian interrupted, not only refusing to leave, but beginning to undo his outer robe and jade belt. "I find this place quite agreeable."
He handed his robe to the attendant who had just arrived at the door, stepped into the pool in his inner garments, and was instantly enveloped by the warm spring water.
He walked straight to Ai Miao's side and sat down. The water rippled gently with his movement, lapping softly against both of them.
Gu Lian turned, gazing at Ai Miao's softened profile, blurred by steam. He spoke low:
"In the future, if you feel weary, come soak more often. But…" He reached out, brushing aside a damp strand of hair clinging to Ai Miao's neck, his tone possessive and firm. "Be sure to send word to me."
His voice dropped further, warm breath brushing Ai Miao's ear. "Such a view—how could you enjoy it alone?"
Ai Miao shivered at the touch, heat blooming from his ears outward. He couldn't tell if it was the spring water or something else. Lowering his gaze, he looked at their reflections in the water— blurred, nearly touching.
He finally murmured:
"…Yes."
The bathhouse was thick with steam and the scent of herbs. Only the soft lapping of water and the interwoven rhythm of their breaths remained. Outside, the autumn night was sharp with chill— but within, warmth bloomed.
Gu Lian looked at this version of Ai Miao—so unlike the man on the court. His heart softened. He leaned in, just slightly. The ripples from his movement brushed gently against Ai Miao's chest.
"This herbal scent is rather distinct," Gu Lian said, scooping up a handful of water. He eyed the floating slices of poria. "A prescription from the Imperial Medical Bureau?"
Ai Miao shifted slightly, trying to put some distance between them— but Gu Lian's arm, subtle and firm, kept him in place.
"…Yes," Ai Miao replied quietly. "I made a few adjustments. Added some arborvitae seeds for calm."
"No wonder," Gu Lian nodded. "I thought I detected a faint cypress note on you during recent court sessions."
Ai Miao's breath caught. He had taken great care to keep the scent subtle— always cleansing before entering the palace. He hadn't expected…
"Your Majesty notices even such minor details."
"When it comes to you," Gu Lian chuckled, "when have I ever been careless?"
His fingers followed the current upward, coming to rest at Ai Miao's tense shoulders. He began to knead—firm, but not forceful. "You're stiff here."
Years of writing, strategizing, and leaning over scrolls had left Ai Miao's shoulders knotted like stone. The heat of the spring, combined with Gu Lian's practiced pressure, drew a soft, involuntary sigh from him. His body relaxed slightly, leaning back.
And in that moment— he leaned fully into Gu Lian's embrace.
Both of them stilled.
In the haze of steam, the sensation of skin against skin was magnified. Ai Miao could feel the steady heartbeat behind him, the quiet strength of the body that held him.
He tensed again, ears burning, instinctively trying to pull away.
"Don't move." Gu Lian's arm wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him in place. His chin rested lightly atop Ai Miao's damp hair. His voice was low, gentle, and absolute.
"If this is to ease your fatigue, then relax properly. I'll keep watch for you."
His palm returned to Ai Miao's shoulders, pressing with steady, soothing rhythm. Each knot slowly unraveled beneath his touch.
At first, Ai Miao remained taut— but under the persistent warmth of the water, the steady breath behind him, and the quiet strength of that embrace, he finally yielded.
His eyes drifted shut. The droplets on his lashes trembled—then fell.
The tension in his body melted, and the exhaustion of many days seemed to rise with the steam and vanish.
Sensing the shift, Gu Lian smiled—quiet and satisfied. He let his hand still, then reached for the wooden ladle resting on a jade tray by the pool.
Scooping up warm water, he poured it slowly down Ai Miao's back.
The stream traced the elegant line of his spine, disappearing into the pool.
"In the future…" Gu Lian's voice was low, magnetic, resonating through the mist, "…this spring is not to be enjoyed without me."
Ai Miao didn't open his eyes. He gave a soft, sleepy hum in reply.
Gu Lian chuckled, pulling him closer, and together they sank into the warmth of the spring.
Outside, the moonlight was cold. Inside, the air was thick with heat and scent. The water rippled gently. The fragrance lingered. And silence wrapped around them like a second skin.
The water rippled gently. Ai Miao's breathing grew long and steady. Just as Gu Lian thought he had fallen asleep, he felt the man in his arms stir slightly.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao's voice was drowsy, softer than usual. "There are memorials… to review tomorrow…"
Gu Lian chuckled. Even like this, he was still thinking of state affairs.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing lightly against Ai Miao's flushed ear. "I've already had Cao Dehai bring them over."
Ai Miao's eyes flew open. He turned to look at Gu Lian, steam still clouding his gaze. "Here? You mean… here?"
Gu Lian raised a brow, gesturing toward the edge of the pool.
There, a low zitan table had been quietly placed— neatly stacked with memorials, alongside a red brush and a pot of tea.
"Didn't you say this place is excellent for easing fatigue?" Gu Lian's arm remained around Ai Miao's waist, his tone perfectly reasonable. "I thought handling affairs here might be twice as efficient."
Ai Miao was momentarily speechless. He tried to rise from Gu Lian's embrace, but was held even tighter.
"Just like this." Gu Lian picked up the top memorial and unfolded it. "You can help me review. If you're tired, rest."
This was… highly improper.
Ai Miao wanted to protest, but the warm water wrapped around his body, and the embrace behind him was far too comfortable. He found himself reluctant to leave.
Gu Lian had already begun reading, occasionally murmuring a few lines aloud, asking Ai Miao's opinion.
At first, Ai Miao sat upright, responding seriously. But as time passed, the spring water and Gu Lian's steady heartbeat became the most effective sedative.
His consciousness began to blur.
No one knew how much time passed. Gu Lian felt a weight settle on his shoulder. Turning slightly, he saw Ai Miao had fallen asleep against him— long lashes resting quietly, the usual tension in his lips softened.
Gu Lian set down his brush, adjusted his posture carefully, letting Ai Miao rest more comfortably.
The sound of water stirred, alerting Cao Dehai outside.
"Your Majesty?" came the attendant's voice through the door.
"All is well," Gu Lian replied softly. "Bring a velvet blanket."
He looked down at the sleeping face in his arms, gently brushing aside damp strands of hair.
In this moment, no empire, no court, could compare to the warmth he held.
When Cao Dehai quietly brought the blanket, he saw a scene he would never forget— the young emperor cradling his sleeping minister, his expression softer than ever shown in public.
"Relay my decree," Gu Lian's voice was barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb a dream. "Court is canceled tomorrow."
The water continued to ripple, reflecting candlelight, breaking and rejoining the image of two entwined figures.
On this mist-laden night, the Son of Heaven willingly became an island of tenderness, guarding his most precious strategist as he drifted into sweet, dark sleep.
The candlelight dimmed. The water stilled. Gu Lian remained in his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of Ai Miao's breath.
Ai Miao slept deeply, even nuzzling unconsciously toward the warmth, his nose brushing lightly against Gu Lian's collarbone.
Gu Lian froze for a moment— then let out a quiet laugh. His strategist only showed such vulnerability in sleep.
The water stirred softly. Gu Lian carefully lifted Ai Miao into his arms. The sleeping man frowned slightly, as if displeased by leaving the warm spring, but soon settled again in the familiar embrace.
"Prepare the bed," Gu Lian murmured toward the door.
The attendants had already made everything ready. Gu Lian laid Ai Miao gently on the bed, wrapped him carefully in a velvet blanket. His ink-dark hair spilled across the pillow, still damp with steam.
Gu Lian sat at the bedside, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers.
Such closeness— in waking hours, it would never be allowed. His Lord Wen'an always upheld the decorum of ruler and minister, even in moments of passion, always with a trace of restraint.
"Only at times like this can I do as I please," Gu Lian sighed, bending to place a kiss between Ai Miao's brows.
Just as he was about to rise and return to the memorials, his sleeve was gently tugged.
Turning back, he saw Ai Miao still asleep, but his fingers had instinctively grasped the fabric.
"…Don't go," came the soft, slurred murmur.
Gu Lian's heart melted into spring water. He waved the attendants away, shed his outer robe, and slipped under the blanket, pulling Ai Miao back into his arms.
"Alright. I won't go," he whispered at his ear.
Ai Miao seemed satisfied, nestling deeper into his chest, his breathing steady once more.
—
The next morning, Ai Miao woke to the familiar scent of dragon musk. Opening his eyes, he was briefly disoriented— this was not his own bed.
Then he saw the emperor still asleep beside him, and memories of the previous night flooded back. The spring, the shared bath, the memorials… and how he had reached out to hold Gu Lian's sleeve…
His ears burned instantly. He moved quietly, trying to rise— but an arm pulled him back.
"Morning court is canceled," Gu Lian murmured, voice husky with sleep. "Stay with me a little longer."
Ai Miao stiffened in his arms. "Your Majesty… this is improper…"
"In my bed," Gu Lian opened his eyes, smiling, "I decide what's proper. And last night, you were the one who asked me to stay."
"I… that was…" Ai Miao faltered.
Gu Lian chuckled, then whispered at his ear: "Since you enjoy the spring so much, why not build a secret passage between your estate and the palace bathhouse?"
Ai Miao stared at him in shock.
"That way," Gu Lian's fingers traced his brow, "I can see you whenever I wish."
Ai Miao was speechless. A secret passage between the palace and a minister's residence— if word got out…
"Your Majesty," he chose his words carefully, "Such a move may invite criticism. The court…"
"If the court knew their Lord Wen'an thinks of policy reform even while bathing," Gu Lian laughed, his fingers now tracing Ai Miao's lips, "they'd praise me for having such a devoted minister."
Ai Miao's ears flushed again. He turned his head to avoid the teasing touch. "Your Majesty jests."
"I never jest." Gu Lian picked up a strand of ink-dark hair, twining it around his finger. "Did you know you murmured about canal reform in your sleep last night?"
Ai Miao blinked. He had no memory of it.
"My Ai Qing," Gu Lian sighed, pulling him close, "even your dreams are filled with the empire. With such devotion, why shouldn't I build you a passage?"
The warmth of the spring seemed to linger between them, rising once more.
Ai Miao lowered his gaze. "If Your Majesty insists… I will comply."
"That's my good minister." Gu Lian kissed the crown of his head, then added with mock sternness: "But one condition— from now on, you must wait for me before bathing."
"Your Majesty!" Ai Miao finally looked up, only to meet a pair of smiling eyes.
That smile— like spring ice breaking, like the first warmth of sun— made Ai Miao momentarily dazed.
Before he could speak again, his lips were sealed with a kiss.
Morning light filtered through the lattice, casting scattered glimmers across their entwined figures.
Outside, the attendants quietly prepared breakfast, and placed the unfinished memorials gently on the desk.
After a long while, Gu Lian finally let go, resting his forehead against Ai Miao's.
"When the passage is complete," he whispered, "I'll come every day to check— whether my Lord Wen'an has properly soaked and rested."
Ai Miao's gaze flickered, then softened into a barely audible reply:
"…As you command."