EHW Ch67

Phoenix Seal.

Although Gu Fangzhi had already guessed it in his heart, when he actually heard Gu Huaiyu say the words “Phoenix Seal,” he still froze for a long moment.

Gu Huaiyu lowered his head again and went on with his calculations, muttering numbers under his breath as before:
“Seven thousand six hundred five… ten… eight, eight, sixty-four… damn it…”

After a while, Gu Fangzhi finally exhaled a long, shaky breath.

He had just opened his mouth to speak when everything went black before his eyes.

[Congratulations, Player reached BE Ending – Wang Xifeng (✗) Wang Xifeng, the Joyous Phoenix (✓)]

Gu Fangzhi: “…”
What kind of nonsense ending was that?

When he reloaded the save, Gu Huaiyu was still at the abacus.

“Damn this carry… add another four thousand… damn it…”

The poor kid had crashed.

His previous save had been from before he showed Gu Huaiyu the seal, but because of the BE ending, he couldn’t go back to it anymore.

So Gu Fangzhi could only comfort his mentally blue-screened little brother.

“Huaiyu.”

At just the sound of his name, Gu Huaiyu calmed himself.

“It’s a good thing. Since His Majesty was willing to give you that, I’m relieved. I thought he’d just keep dangling you along like he did Grand Tutor Sun… Forget it, not the time for that.”

He added, “But can I still call you ‘Brother,’ not ‘Your Majesty’s Consort’?”

Gu Fangzhi shuddered violently at the title. “…Yes, of course you can.”

***

When he returned to his room, his steps were unsteady and all trace of drowsiness had vanished.

He set the Phoenix Seal before him and stared at it for a long time.

A sudden, sharp longing to see Pei Xin struck him.

But it was too late; Pei Xin should be asleep by now.

And Ah-Qi, his servant, would also have gone to bed.
Traveling by carriage at night wasn’t convenient either.

And besides…

Forget it. Forget it, just forget it.

Gu Fangzhi removed his outer robe, dimmed the candlelight, and lay down.

When he came to his senses again, he was already seated in a carriage on its way to the palace.

He lifted the curtain and glanced at Aqi’s back. “Thank you for the trouble.”

“Not at all!” Ah-Qi replied cheerfully. “Thanks to you, sir, I finally got to see real gold leaves!”

When they arrived at the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Yang Luhai was outside scolding a few young eunuchs.

Seeing Gu Fangzhi, he looked surprised. “Lord Gu?”

Gu Fangzhi began, “This humble official came—”

Yang Luhai smiled knowingly. “Lord Gu.”

Of course, he knew about His Majesty and Gu Fangzhi.

At first, he’d thought Gu Fangzhi’s “rashes” were real allergies, and the red marks on his neck were just from insect bites.

Until one day, while tidying the emperor’s study, a piece of paper slipped from between the shelves.

The paper had a few lines of Tea Sutra, a few verses of poetry, some sketches of waves, lotuses, and a strangely shaped fish.
His Majesty always doodled when listening to lectures, but this one was… different.

On the paper was a small figure, hair curled like seaweed, eyes shaped like half-moons.

Pei Xin’s calligraphy was elegant, but his drawing skills were not. To put it kindly, it looked like something a neighborhood child might scrawl on paving stones.

Yang Luhai found the little figure oddly familiar, though he couldn’t immediately place it.
Thankfully, there were words beside it.

Most of them had been blotted out, but the remaining strokes revealed enough:

“Fangzhi.”

“Fang.”

“Gu Fangzhi.”

“Fangzhi.”

When Yang Luhai was young, he’d done something similar, picking up a rock to write the neighbor girl’s name, “Little Hong,” in wet dirt on the street, only to blush and rub it away immediately after.

So His Majesty had reached that age, too.

Yang Luhai said kindly, “His Majesty just lay down. He shouldn’t be asleep yet. You can go in directly. Have you eaten? Shall I fetch something from the kitchen?”

Gu Fangzhi hurriedly waved his hands. “N-no need, I’ll go in first.”

Yang Luhai smiled in that kindly, all-knowing way. “Alright then.”

***
Inside, the chamber was dimly lit. Pei Xin lay on his side, facing away from the door.

Gu Fangzhi stepped closer and peeked over.

Pei Xin’s eyes were closed, most of his face buried beneath the quilt, he looked fast asleep.

Gu Fangzhi tugged the blanket down a little, and still Pei Xin didn’t stir.

In the past, when Pei Xin slept lightly, even Gu Fangzhi turning over on the nearby couch would wake him. But now, tugging his quilt didn’t make him move at all.

Not that Gu Fangzhi had to talk to him, just seeing him soothed that restless, cat-scratch feeling in his chest.

Since Pei Xin was asleep, he planned to load the save from before leaving home and go back, save some gold leaves, too.

He bent down, brushed back his hair, and pressed a kiss to Pei Xin’s forehead before turning to go.

He was already pressing the “Load Save” button when his wrist was suddenly caught in a firm grip.

Startled, Gu Fangzhi exited the page and found himself staring into Pei Xin’s wide-awake eyes. There wasn’t a trace of drowsiness in them.

“….”

Gu Fangzhi flicked his forehead. “You were pretending to sleep?”

“I was just closing my eyes, wondering if Teacher might kiss me while I slept,” Pei Xin said frankly. “I always do that to Teacher, after all.”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

Such an honest scoundrel.

Pei Xin shifted inward, making room beside him, and tugged Gu Fangzhi’s wrist until he sat down next to him.

“Teacher, why come all of a sudden—”

Before he could finish, Gu Fangzhi leaned in close.

Pei Xin’s vision dimmed; black hair fell like waves of moonlight, brushing coolly against his neck.

His eyes widened slightly.

He wasn’t the kind of emperor who lost himself in beauty, yet lately, Gu Fangzhi seemed to grow more beautiful by the day.

His face was the same, but something in his eyes had changed, a gentle, restrained warmth that made Pei Xin want to give him everything good in the world.

As he stared, Gu Fangzhi lowered his head further and kissed him, soft and tender.

Pei Xin: “…?”

Usually, it was he who initiated; Gu Fangzhi rarely did.

Was today some special day? His birthday was long past…

Pei Xin raised a hand, cupped Gu Fangzhi’s head, and deepened the kiss.

They’d both been busy for days, barely seeing each other, and he’d missed him sorely.

Now, with the sweet scent of osmanthus filling his senses, and Gu Fangzhi’s soft body pressed against his, Pei Xin’s reason began to drift.

His hand slipped beneath Gu Fangzhi’s robes, tracing up along his waistline—

Gu Fangzhi let out a faint sound.

When Pei Xin came back to himself, their positions had reversed, he was now on top, Gu Fangzhi beneath him.

Gu Fangzhi’s clothes were in disarray, hanging loose around pale skin mottled with new red marks.

As Pei Xin had once said, he was not an unrestrained tyrant.

So even though his heart felt like it would explode, he politely buried his face in Gu Fangzhi’s neck, rubbing his cheek against the other’s skin and whispering for consent:

“…I want you.”

Gu Fangzhi’s only answer was the hand that wrapped around his back.

Pei Xin kissed him again, then climbed off the bed.

Gu Fangzhi, still breathless and hoarse, asked, “…What is it?”

Pei Xin rummaged through a corner chest. “Found it!”

He returned holding two very familiar books, the erotic manuals they’d bought together not long ago.

Gu Fangzhi: “…………”
Was he seriously planning to learn from the manual right now?

Pei Xin sat back beside him, opened one, and spread it flat on the pillow next to them.

Then he began undressing Gu Fangzhi —

Untying the belt, turning a page;

Removing the outer robe, another page;

Pulling down the undershirt, another page.

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

See? A true scholar will study anywhere, under any hardship.

Even in the wilds, one can still become a Ph.D.

Gu Fangzhi couldn’t take it anymore. The idea of Pei Xin doing that while following along with a “tutorial” was unbearable. Veins throbbing at his temple, he slammed the book shut.

“Stop looking. I’ll teach you.”

Pei Xin blinked. “Teacher knows? Have you been secretly studying behind my back?”

“I at least know what hurts and what feels good.”

Pei Xin made an “oh,” then reached to the side, picking up a jar of jade balm.

He lifted Gu Fangzhi’s waist. “Then I’ll trouble Teacher for more… guidance.”

***
That night, Pei Xin must have asked “Does it hurt?” and “Does it feel good?” countless times.

And Gu Fangzhi had repeated “slower” and “gentler” just as often.

Once, when neither of them could quite figure out what to do, they even reopened the book and peered at it together.

By the end, the candle had burned out. Pei Xin’s fingers locked tightly with Gu Fangzhi’s, sweat dripping onto his chest marked with bites.

Between ragged breaths, Gu Fangzhi whispered, “So… being empress is easy because… you only have to manage one person, right?”

Pei Xin, dazed and overcome, bit down hard on Gu Fangzhi’s shoulder, forgetting all restraint as he thrust fiercely forward.

***

The Next Day.

Pei Xin didn’t know how long he’d slept, he only knew that when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Gu Fangzhi lying beside him.

Gu Fangzhi was staring blankly at the ceiling. Pei Xin leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth… and then frowned.

Something was wrong.

The room was still dark, fine, maybe dawn hadn’t come yet.

Gu Fangzhi was fully dressed, fine, maybe he’d gotten cold in the night and put his clothes back on.

The pillow that had been so wrinkled from last night’s tossing and turning was gone, fine, maybe Gu Fangzhi had tidied it up.

But the feeling in his body, the lingering satisfaction that should’ve been there, was gone.

Pei Xin gritted his teeth.

“Gu. Fang. Zhi!”

He glared at him. “Why did you reload? Are you planning to deny last night ever happened?!”

Gu Fangzhi turned his head to look at him.

The young emperor’s face was stiff, but the wounded look in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.
“You said last night that you liked me, that I was great, that you felt so comfor—”

Before he could finish that horrifying line, Gu Fangzhi scrambled to cover his mouth.

Pei Xin’s eyes, however, continued their wordless accusation.

Gu Fangzhi cleared his throat. “Here’s what happened. When I woke up this morning, I realized I could buy a new save slot.”

He’d spent all his money again buying the extra slot, triggered a BE ending called ‘Died of Heartache After In-App Purchase’, and when he went to reload, he saw the save file from right before he’d entered the palace last night.

“I wasn’t trying to deny anything,” Gu Fangzhi explained helplessly. “I just wanted to… return to the time when I was still… myself. For nostalgia’s sake.”

Pei Xin: “…………”

What the hell was there to be nostalgic about?!

“Return immediately.” he ordered.

So Gu Fangzhi sighed and obediently switched back to Auto Save File No. 4.

Instantly, his arms ached, his throat hurt, and his skin was covered in all sorts of messy marks.

His waist was weak, his legs were sore.

Beside him, Pei Xin slowly opened his eyes.

He arched an eyebrow and said smugly, “Good, Empress.”

There was still morning court today, but since Gu Fangzhi’s back ached so badly, Pei Xin granted him leave to rest.

After sleeping a while and eating something, Gu Fangzhi felt much better.

When Pei Xin returned from court, he massaged Gu Fangzhi’s waist and talked idly with him.

Their conversation meandered, from constellations to jade carving, then somehow shifted to the old canal the late emperor had ordered dug. Apparently, people had been releasing sky lanterns and flower lights there lately, it was breathtakingly beautiful at night.

Pei Xin rarely had the chance to leave the palace; he looked wistful.
Gu Fangzhi said, “Shall we go see it tonight?”

Pei Xin hesitated. “Another day, perhaps. Teacher’s body may not hold up?”

“Actually, I feel fine.” Gu Fangzhi replied. “If anything, moving around might help loosen my stiff back.”

How could Pei Xin say no to that? He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Alright. If Teacher feels unwell, I’ll send you back at once.”

By the time he finished reviewing memorials, dusk had fallen.

Yang Luhai brought them two plain sets of clothing.

Pei Xin picked up a wide-brimmed hat and examined it. “Teacher, come here.”

Gu Fangzhi stepped forward, and Pei Xin, clumsily—tied the ribbon beneath his chin.

Then Gu Fangzhi did the same for him, fastening his hat in place.

They took a carriage to the little street beside the canal.

Pei Xin alighted first and extended his hand to help Gu Fangzhi down, but a small furry paw beat him to it, landing squarely in his palm.

Pei Xin: “……”

Of course. He knew bringing Snowball along would lead to this.

He lifted the fluffy offender by the scruff, glaring. “You! My hand is not for you to touch!”

He wasn’t even rough, but Snowball flailed and twisted dramatically.

And of course, the shameless little dog earned Gu Fangzhi’s sympathy.

“Don’t lift him, it’s not easy for him either,” he said.

Pei Xin: “?”

Not easy? For the mad dog? How in the world was it not easy?

Suppressing his annoyance, Pei Xin reluctantly cradled the dog in his arms as they walked together.

The streets were crowded with laughing young couples; the air was lively and warm.

By the riverbank, sky lanterns drifted upward while floating lamps bobbed on the shimmering water.

Pei Xin bought two river lanterns.

The vendor provided brushes and explained that they could write their wishes on them before releasing them.

Pei Xin stared at his lamp for a long time.

Writing wishes, such a childish thing. Too naïve.

Besides, he didn’t even know what to write.

Maybe just something simple, like “peace and happiness.”

He was still thinking when Snowball suddenly bit into his lamp.

Pei Xin: “……”

Forget it. He wasn’t writing on something that had been licked.

He turned to Gu Fangzhi. “What did Teacher write?”

He half-expected to see something like ‘May I get rich this year!’, but Gu Fangzhi’s lamp was also completely blank.

Gu Fangzhi smiled. “I couldn’t think of anything either. Let’s just release them.”

They walked to the river’s edge and set their lamps afloat.

The two lights drifted side by side, bumping gently against each other before slowly merging into the sea of flickering lanterns, their glow indistinguishable from the rest.

Gu Fangzhi tugged Pei Xin’s sleeve. “Want to get some snacks?”

Pei Xin said, “I’m not hungry.”

“But I am.”

“…Then we’ll eat. Whatever you want, I’ll go with you.”

The stalls were crowded, so they bought two pieces of rice cake to eat while walking.

Gu Fangzhi took a bite, then held it up to Pei Xin’s lips. “Want to try?”

Pei Xin leaned down and took a bite.

He wasn’t fond of sweets, but the taste wasn’t bad—soft, slightly sugary.

Gu Fangzhi hooked his little finger around Pei Xin’s. “Where do you want to go next?”

Looking into Gu Fangzhi’s smiling eyes, Pei Xin suddenly understood—

He knew now why he hadn’t been able to write a single word earlier.

The people were safe and content; his beloved was by his side.

Life stretched long ahead, so long that others couldn’t even imagine it.

It was joy. It was fulfillment.

Then Snowball suddenly licked him.

Pei Xin grimaced. “Teacher, reload.”

At that moment, a group of passersby walked past, chatting—

“Did you hear? The emperor really likes people over seventy?!”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

He gave Pei Xin a sympathetic look and reloaded the scene.

Pei Xin looked out over the water again, regaining his peace.

The people were safe and content; his beloved was by his side.

Life stretched long ahead, so long that others couldn’t even imagine it.

There were strange rumors sometimes, but still—joy. Fulfillment.

Then Snowball licked him again.

This time, the gossip changed—

“They say His Majesty’s doing well lately, but is it true he’s actually blue-faced and fanged?”

Before Pei Xin could speak, Gu Fangzhi automatically reloaded.

Snowball spun in circles, then licked him again.

Nearby, someone murmured,

“Heard the emperor was sick once and suddenly got obsessed with the palace’s golden pillars!”

Pei Xin: “……”

He pinched Snowball’s ear, took Gu Fangzhi’s hand, and gazed serenely into the distance.

The people were safe and content; his beloved was by his side.

Life stretched long ahead, so long that others couldn’t even imagine it.

There were occasional odd rumors, and occasional misunderstandings—

But still, there was joy.

There was peace.

And, just occasionally, a bit of suffocated exasperation.

The End.